Review: COCONUT CAKE at The Ensemble Theatre

Coconut Cake hits its fifth and final stop on its rolling world premiere. Written by playwright Melda Beaty and directed by The Ensemble Theatre’s Artistic Director Eileen J. Morris, this slice-of-life play shines a spotlight on the narrative of five older men, figures who are often background characters in the stories we tell. Here, they are front and center as Beaty weaves a thoughtful web around them, and we begin to understand not only the bonds that tie them together, but also their deeply held views on life, race, money, and women.

While this may be the last stop in the play’s two-year rolling world premiere, it feels more like the beginning of something enduring. Set in modern-day Chicago (with no specific date mentioned) the themes are absolutely universal. These men are familiar and recognizable archetypes, but real drama and heart, unfold through their interactions. The men meet weekly at McDonald’s to catch up, shoot the breeze, and play chess. When a mysterious woman moves into a house nearby, things get a little sticky. She’s planning to open a bakery, but she may be serving more than just coconut cake.

Jason E. Carmichael plays Eddie, a slick and stylish ladies’ man whose own retirement (and philandering) are cut short when his wife, Iris, also retires. Things are not working out well at home, and when Iris accosts him in the kitchen with a butcher knife, he’s the first to fall under the spell of the new neighbor’s “Creole wiles.” Carmichael’s charm is on full display, and he walks a fine line between bravado and vulnerability, offering a layered performance that blends humor with genuine pathos. 

Kevin Daugherty plays Hank, a recently widowed man now under the ever-watchful eyes of his adult daughters. He’s the meekest of the five and seems to be there primarily for the chess, though his bond with Marty gives his character emotional weight. Daugherty’s performance becomes more compelling as the show progresses and Hank opens up. He brings unexpected warmth (and some sick dance moves) to the stage. In the end, we are left to guess how his story ends, which is a shame, because the foundation is there for a deeper resolution

Troy Anthony Hogan brings a wealth of screen experience to the role of Marty, but there’s no place to hide in live theatre—and he doesn’t need one. As the God-fearing deacon, devoted husband to Mary, and arguably the most emotionally generous of the bunch, Hogan serves as the play’s moral anchor—right or wrong. He is so grounded and emotionally present that I felt like it was me was sitting across from him at the table, sipping coffee. He delivers the comedic highs with ease and anchors the play’s climax with palpable emotion.

Real estate businessman Joe, played with fire and force by Alex Morris, is loud, opinionated, and unapologetically brash. He has no love for Hank, either because of race, political standing, or both. As we learn more about Joe, it becomes clear that he’s less the industrious developer and more of a neighborhood slumlord, though his concern for the community and desire for respect from younger generations ring true. Morris is a commanding presence, whether storming the stage, vacillating between swagger and vulnerability, or rooted in stillness telling his own stories.

Last, but certainly not least, is James West III as Gotdamnit, the homeless man who regularly disrupts the others’ daily view of the young woman who passes the McDonald’s each morning. Though mentally unwell, he functions as both truth-teller and prophet, offering flashes of insight and unexpected views into the other caharacters' lives. He also provides key exposition in a way that feels organic and earned. West may have the least stage time, but his transformation is unforgettable, and his presence lingers long after any of his scenes.

What I find very interesting is how clearly these men are shaped by the women in their lives, especially since none of them ever appear onstage. Despite their physical absence, their presence is felt in the conversations, jokes, and moments of tension.

Yes, these men are archetypes. But that just means we all know them: older men who gather at the same place, at the same time, every week to laugh, complain, reminisce, and ponder life’s big (and small) questions. And in that routine, and the quiet rhythms of friendship, Beaty has found a rich, resonant story worth telling.

These men may be specific, shaped by their city, their habits, and their histories, but they also each represent a kind of Everyman. You don’t have to be retired, religious, or a regular at McDonald’s to recognize their personalities or to feel connected to them and their stories. This universality is what makes COCONUT CAKE land so effectively, and it is a testament to the writing, direction and performances that we, as the audience, stay engaged—laughing, gasping, affirming, and reacting throughout. It is clear that what was happening on stage struck a nerve, and in the most real kind of way. This play resonates because it reflects us back to ourselves, flaws and all, with truth, heart, and a little sweet humor on the side.