Review: SPUNK at Dallas Theater Center - Bryant Hall is Must See Theater

When American author and activist Alice Walker first coined the word womanist in 1979, derived from a Black folk expression “woman-ish” used by mothers to describe a young black girls and teens acting like they were grown, it is conceivable she had in mind the late Zora Neale Hurston, a writer, folklorist, and cultural anthropologist.

The creation of the word was preceded by a pilgrimage Walker made to Florida to find the unmarked grave of her literary idol based of their shared love of chronicling the lives of southern blacks, particularly woman in their work down to the rich cultural landscape in the midst of legal segregation and the rural vernacular of the time.

Walker’s travel was detailed in a 1975 article published by Ms. Magazine entitled “In Search of Zora Neale Hurston” and created a transcendent bond between both women in that Walker was able to paint a deeper picture of Hurston by standing on top of the ground where her remains were,  estranged from her biological family and speaking with residents who knew Zora and the life she lived.

That experience not only reintroduced this Harlem Renaissance legend known for hosting informal gatherings at her New York City brownstone for other literary figures, including Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, Dorothy West, Richard Bruce Nugent, James Weldon Johnson, and Wallace Thurman where she would serve up her legendary southern fried shrimp, it would become the impetus for multi award-winning playwright and director George C. Wolfe to pen “Spunk,” an adaptation of three folktale by Hurston.

In the hands of Soul Rep Theatre Company who is producing “Spunk” in a short run through November 1st, Hurston’s work comes alive in a brilliant way with excellent directing by Anyika McMillan-Herod and Dee Smith, tight acting ensemble, standout performances, minimalist stage design, use of lighting that envelopes the audience and punctuated human emotions, and percussion sounds from musician Len Barnett that is the PULSE of the production.

Bringing the audience into Hurston’s world is orchestrated by the extremely talented Yolanda Williams as Blues Speak Woman, whose sharp comedic timing and command of the stage was a hoot but could tone it down when the mood was more solemn. When she proclaims emphatically “Aint a law on earth that can make a man act right if it aint in him,” you immediately know you’re walking on the hallowed ground of Hurston and her focus on black women.

In the first folktale entitled "Sweat," we find Delia, a washer woman played with emotional depth by the incredible Tonya Holloway, and her bully of a husband Sykes played with absolute intention by stage veteran Douglas Carter.

If you have never witnessed, been a victim of domestic violence of, or lived in a household where it has occurred, you will know how it FEELS after the first folktale is finished.

In the first standout performance of the evening, watching Holloway lose herself into Delia’s plight was akin to witnessing a masterclass in acting. With every facial expression and physical move, defiant and compliant stance, or determination and absolute fear about her safety and her life, she draws you delicately into black womanhood as a voyeur of the plight that has plagued black women in this country since the beginning of slavery.

Carter, to his credit delivers an authentic portrayal that makes you hate him because of his abuse and infidelity, want to protect Delia, and wish God Almighty will reciprocate with the same level of physical, mental, and psychological cruelty he doles out to his wife regularly. In the end, everyone’s prayers are answered.

The mood lightens up in the next folktale called “Story in Harlem Slang” featuring the male members of the ensemble with Kadrick Session in the role of Sweetback, Jacobie Thornton as Jelly, and Carter and Gerald Taylor as co-narrators.

Sweetback and Jelly are street pimps but nothing like depictions we see in television and film that are opportunistic, mean, and violent to the women in the quest to manipulate women for commerce. You actually like these hustlers who take on the persona of barbershop customers engaging in a perpetual game of “Playing the Dozens,” a traditional African-American game of verbal combat and insults are hurled around until a victor is crowned.

The second standout performances occur within this context as Sweetback and Jelly try to best each other’s wardrobe choices, who can recruit the next unsuspecting girl into their respective stables, and whose women are the prettiest or ugliest. A highlight of this story is when Sweetback and Jelly go into the audience and hilariously try to draw certain members into their nonstop antics. Each actor could have easily made their characters caricatures, but they didn’t, especially Thornton who elevated ‘pimphood’ to an art form.

In the final folktale “The Gilded Six-Bits” featuring Autumn Robinson as Missie Mae and Thornton as Joe, and Carter as Sleetmore Cobb, a seemingly rich man on the prowl, the mood turns serious again as the subject of marital infidelity is front in center but with a twist: Missie Mae is the perpetrator, not Joe.

The young married couple begin this story happy, playful like newlyweds, and completely in love. Missie Mae presents as the perfect wife who loves her husband and the Penny Candy he tosses on the doorstep announcing his arrival home after a long day, but you can sense it’s all a façade because it seems she wants more than life has to offer her and other Black women during that time.

Their marital bond faces its steepest test when Sleetmore puts the moves on her with his flashy ways and financial resources and the unthinkable happens. When Joes discovers this by accident, he remains in the home but completely shuts down mentally.

This is where the final standout performance occurs with Thornton delivering a knockout portrayal of the wounded husband. What Holloway did in the first folktale in her role, Thornton brings the same quiet intensity to the role of Joe.

Society frowns upon men who show emotions when faced with challenges and traumas. Men are conditioned to “choke it up,” “be a man,” less they hear the standard admonishment, “real men don’t cry,” not understanding men are human and humans do cry.

Thornton illustrated this dynamic so delicately that you could literally feel the tension in his walk, his body, his face, and the few words he spoke when talking to Missie May, knowing that inside of him was a cacophony of chaos residing with extreme sorrow.

When a man steps outside of a monogamous relationship, partnership, or marriage, it is expected because that’s what men do, society will tell you. And she has her family and girlfriends to help her pick up all the broken pieces and move on.  

But when a man is the victim of marital betrayal, he internalizes it silently in a way that is not visible to the eye. An erosion of self-worth takes place, intense rage emerges, withdrawal and isolation begins, feelings of sexual inadequacy set in because she belonged to HIM, and whether he should stay or leave.

Thornton navigates this emotional terrain like an expert, and you feel empathy for him as determines his next move, with Missie May remorseful but allowing her husband space to process.

It is at the end of this folktale that the luscious, deep, and melodic voice of Kadrick Session rings out like a soothing salve, invoking the tenacity and strength of the ancestors who faced similar and often more challenging life situations with the call and response refrain, “The sun came up, yes it did, and the sun went down.”