Neighbors
One of the questions posed in the West Coast premiere of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins stimulating play isn’t “What will the neighbors think?” as it is “What do we really think of our neighbors?” The neighbors in question are the Crow family—a troupe of African-American minstrels in blackface that move into a middle-class track development next door to the interracial Patterson home which sets off a firestorm of deeply-rooted issues about racial identity and perception.
While the blackface may be startling, the overly exaggerated stereotypes are nothing short of shocking. Imagine every possible Jim Crow caricature exposed, personified and played with the utmost seriousness, lacking any self-consciousness in the cast’s total commitment to their roles. Jacobs-Jenkins culls their names as in Mammy (Baadja-Lyne) and Sambo (Keith Arthur Bolden) from racial slurs and archetypes or literary references such as Topsy (Daniele Watts) from Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Zip Coon (Leith Burke) from the folk song, and of course Jim (James Edward Shippy) all with such obvious intent that the effect is at first jarringly overwhelming. The challenge with such a frank and daring distortion lies in the authenticity of the characters beyond the blackface, relating to them without being able to overlook the stereotypes but through them. Nataki Garrett’s exceptionally deft direction along with a sensational cast rises to this challenge and surpasses the difficulties that can otherwise mar a captivating work of mastery and depth.
This is not, however, a play for the easily offended and please note it is not intended for younger audiences given the subject matter and the explicitly graphic sex acts in the minstrel scenes.
What some might find objectionable, particularly the oversized genitals on both the male and female characters, the colorful slang and the N-bomb sparingly but boldly dropped throughout is a rather brusque but effective attempt to illicit a response—no matter how benign or uncomfortable. Just when it seems the envelope has been pushed as far as it will go—it slides completely off the table and takes everything down with it by turning every preconceived notion on its side. The confrontation with the physical manifestation of these culturally saturated archetypes, labels and misconceptions reflects how deep these racially charged roots go, and how they are nurtured over time, leaving an indelible mark that has the insidious ability to define a racial group by a culture, and more subtly supported by members of its own race.
While the Crow family may be in blackface, adjunct Professor of Classics, Richard Patterson (Derek Webster) is wearing albeit less apparent mask—elitism couched in hypersensitivity towards appearances and racial insecurity simmering underneath his scathing prejudice. Before the neighbors have even finished moving in he bristles from behind his blinds, beautifully nuanced by J. Kent Inasy’s lighting, uttering the N-word to the surprise of his white wife, Jean (Julia Campbell). Richard’s struggle to secure a tenured position at the university along with his defining childhood experiences and his obsession to remain beyond reproach slowly collide with the arrival of the Crow clan, whose very boisterous demeanor gives him the case of the willies. As Jean welcomes their neighbors, particularly Zip Coon, into their home with open arms and no misgivings, Richard’s fears become a self-perpetuating and fulfilling prophecy as he watches his carefully maintained world collapse around him. By the play’s tumultuous end, he has become the very thing he despises when his wife slaps him and spits his own slur right back at him.
Throughout the action are minstrel interludes featuring every member of the Crow family. These comic scenes are mordantly clever, if not awkwardly so as some of the sight gags, while humorous, are tinged with the historic impressions that originally perpetuated them. It is unclear whether the gag itself such as Zip Coon’s anal abilities with a horn generates laughs or if the laughs come from sheer nervous tension and revulsion in Sambo’s watermelon scene or Mammy’s wet-nursing a pair of white puppets stuck to her enormous breasts. The execution is superb, nevertheless, although their origins are painfully raw and overshadow these acts.
But the play’s end capitulates to an almost blindingly bitter showdown between the Crow family and the audience—literally staring down each member for at least three to five minutes. In such an intimate space, this sort of staging works in terms of its directness, but it also smacks of an accusation that the play had circumvented. Short of pointing to everyone in the audience, the result is hostile in tone and delivery without even a curtain call for the Patterson cast which was very off-putting. The circularity within the play beginning with a minstrel show and ending it is fine, but without the full cast bow, no one seemed to trust the play’s finale and left puzzled.
And the cast is extraordinary, deservedly so of the long-standing applause it doubtless would’ve received. Daniele Watts and Baadja-Lyne are mesmerizing and perfectly accented with watermelon prints and jewelry along with Mammy’s kerchief garb by Naila Alladin Sanders. Keith Arthur Bolden is electric and enthusiastic. James Edward Shippy stands out in his tender role with a believable innocence that is refreshing. Derek Webster shines in his “Definition of Tragedy” monologue and in his explosive scene with his rebellious teenage daughter, Melody, vulnerably played by Rachae Thomas. Julia Campbell shades a festering nervousness against smoothly debonair Leith Burke—a master with top hats.
Set design by John Iacovelli splits the stage in half with a track housing development façade upstage that succinctly typifies middle-class, anywhere America inside a suburban sprawl.
This will be one of the most talked about and controversial shows this season. The questions Branden Jacobs-Jenkins poses are unanswerable, but the dialogue it sparks is essential. Vital and full of verve, this is not merely an entertaining show, but one that shatters any pretense.
“Neighbors”
Runs through Oct 24
Note: Including intermission, this is almost a 3 hr show. Show times are 30 mins earlier.
Thurs, Fri, & Sat at 7:30pm
Sundays at 2:30pm
The Matrix Theatre
7657 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, 90046
PH: 323-960-7774
www.plays411.com/neighbors
*Not advised for younger audiences