Clyde's Broadway Reviews

I think what is most powerful about the show, as with Nottage's Sweat, is how convincingly epic it quickly makes the everyday feel. Here are very small lives which seem huge, thanks to brilliant writing and just-as-brilliant acting. It is also notable that Clyde's features a happy ending, for everyone. The temptation with a drama like this is to go 100 percent gray and scratchy realism, but Nottage does not do that. The end brings together all the themes in one sandwich. Until then, each character has struggled to make their personal best, but then the climactic sandwich-the sandwich that may yet undo Clyde-is a creation of them all. And with their signature ingredient deployed, they are free.

What melts away as you get to know the characters are the monumental stigmas attached to jail time. Donovan's Jason is inked to the max with prison tats, some of them racist symbols, but the story behind them reveals something unexpected. Letitia, here called Tish, in Young's smashingly vibrant turn, is all adolescent energy and adult anxiety, the latter brought on as a single mother caring for a sick child. Salazar's hyper Rafael needs an emotional home for his nurturing instincts, as an alternative to his weakness for drugs.

Nottage's delightful new play, 'Clyde's,' which opened at the Helen Hayes Theater on Tuesday, dares to flip the paradigm. Though it's still about dark things, including prison, drugs, homelessness and poverty, it somehow turns them into bright comedy. In Kate Whoriskey's brisk and thoroughly satisfying production for Second Stage Theater, we learn that, unlike Oedipus and his mom, people who may have little else nevertheless have choices.

Sweat asks a bleak question about whether work can sustain us; Clyde's offers a hopeful if fantastical answer. Many of the things that usually drive a play are absent in Clyde's. It's unclear about its stakes, and I couldn't always follow the way action leads to reaction - but as the play lifts off into its final minutes, it enters a realm where conventional dramaturgy doesn't apply. These characters aren't heading for dramatic resolution. They're aiming for a place, reached via sensual delight, of reconnection and reawakening.

Nottage, a Pulitzer winner for the more weighty topical dramas 'Ruined' and 'Sweat,' maintains her interest in illuminating the lives of working class people, but shifts strategies here into broad comedy. The setup has a sitcom quality that's paradoxically inviting, not dissimilar to 'Orange Is the New Black,' for which Aduba won two Emmys; it's easy to imagine stopping by Clyde's every week, with a steady swinging door of short-order cooks working toward rehabilitation. The comedy is situational in both structure and execution, with personalities, incidents and drool-worthy sandwich descriptions making up a bulk of its substance.

Director Kate Whoriskey (who regularly collaborates with Nottage) may have overemphasized the play's broad humor, to the point where it often starts to resemble a sitcom version of 'Top Chef.' But at its best, 'Clyde's' is a relatable, rambunctious, feel-good work that optimistically preaches a path to self-redemption.Director Kate Whoriskey (who regularly collaborates with Nottage) may have overemphasized the play's broad humor, to the point where it often starts to resemble a sitcom version of 'Top Chef.' But at its best, 'Clyde's' is a relatable, rambunctious, feel-good work that optimistically preaches a path to self-redemption.

In fact, halfway through you might be struck by the notion of what an engaging sitcom this play could make, but then you might also realize that it already has. For all its present-day concerns, topicality and up-to-the-minute compassions, Clyde's is Taxi with poetic garnish. It's not hard to imagine Danny DeVito's Louie De Palma sharing tactical advice with Aduba's Clyde, or Judd Hirsch's Alex Reiger offering a sympathetic ear to Jones' Montrellous. Nottage has recast a winning recipe for the post-Trump era, and through sheer determination and heart keeps all but the very edges from a whiff of staleness.

'We have what we need. So, let's cook.' And cook they do, bouncing off each other's rhythms like an expert jazz combo. Jones is a model of soulful grace, and Kara Young and Reza Salazar bring charm and humor to their roles as, respectively, the young mother of a disabled child and a recovering addict with a romantic streak; Edmund Donovan is terrific as a laconic newcomer, tense with guilt and shame, whose racist tattoos testify to a past he can't escape. (Not since Adam Driver has an actor risen so swiftly through the ranks on the strength of troubled tenderness.) But the wonderful Aduba, in her first starring Broadway role, has the plummiest role; she cuts through Clyde's like a serrated knife. The stage is her sandwich, and she slathers it with relish.

'Clyde's' is a battle between the saint and Satan. Rather than treating this extreme contrast as a flaw, Whoriskey embraces it to bring a magical realism to the production. The performances, however, are never as sharp as they are in those first few squabbles over the cutting boards. Only Aduba is able to build on her horrible first impression, and that's because the devil, once again, gets all the best jokes, not to mention couture that would make Kyrsten Sinema blush.

Kitchen workers Letitia, Rafael, Jason, and their guru, Montrellous, spend their shifts dreaming up the perfect Bon Appétit-ready concoction at a purgatory-like Pennsylvania truck-stop sandwich shop named Clyde's, run by the mean-as-a-cobra, tough-as-acrylic-nails Clyde (Uzo Aduba, late of TV's Mrs. America and Orange Is the New Black). They're all ex-cons-something Clyde, who also did time, uses to beat them into submission whenever she gets the chance. 'She might actually be the devil,' muses Jason. And, in fact, she might. Consider the burst of flames she produces periodically.

Frequent Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey (director of Ruined and Sweat) has staged a fine production, with a properly 'liminal' set (as specifically called for by the playwright) from set designer Takeshi Kata and properly mystical touches from lighting designer Christopher Akerlind. Jennifer Moeller, meanwhile, gives Aduba an array of startling costumes that might well chasten Diana over at the Longacre. That desperately doomed princess has more actual costume changes than Clyde, yes; but Diana is 40 endless minutes longer than Clyde's, and several of Moeller's greasy spoon wardrobe choices are strikingly more eyegrabbing.

duba, looking snatched in Jennifer Moeller's perfect costumes-first appears in a tight denim jumpsuit and leopard boots-and wearing Cookie Jordan's hair and wig designs like a parade of crowns, is excellent in a role that is slightly underwritten. Nottage seems interested in the tension between being in-charge and being plain rude, especially as perceived in women, but indulges Clyde's penchant for insults too much to remember to balance her out with much motivation. Perhaps Aduba's exacting performance, in which the venom pours deliciously from her lips, hints at a richer character than Nottage intended, but the result leaves a major gap where there should be a knowing reason.

For the most part Nottage establishes her characters and their troubled pasts and uncertain futures economically and with compassionate nuance. But 'Clyde's' nevertheless also feels schematic, as scenes of confrontation with Clyde (who, incongruously, appears to the both proprietor and the only front-of-house worker) alternate with scenes of communal sandwich-making that bind the kitchen gang together. At regular intervals, we hear revelations about just how the characters ended up behind bars.

In 'Clyde's,' a savory comedy written by Lynn Nottage, better known for her bitter tragedies, Uzo Aduba portrays Clyde, the sexy but heartless owner of a truck stop where all four of her employees are ex inmates, as is she. The chief joke of the play, which is running at Second Stage's Helen Hayes Theater through January 16, is how seriously the employees take the art and craft of sandwich making, especially Ron Cephas Jones as Montrellous, whom the others worship for his culinary gifts. The chief delight of this production, directed by frequent Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey, is the art and craft of the theater making, by an extraordinarily talented cast, and also by the designers, who get whimsical and weird (in a good way.)

In 'Clyde's,' a savory comedy written by Lynn Nottage, better known for her bitter tragedies, Uzo Aduba portrays Clyde, the sexy but heartless owner of a truck stop where all four of her employees are ex inmates, as is she. The chief joke of the play, which is running at Second Stage's Helen Hayes Theater through January 16, is how seriously the employees take the art and craft of sandwich making, especially Ron Cephas Jones as Montrellous, whom the others worship for his culinary gifts. The chief delight of this production, directed by frequent Nottage collaborator Kate Whoriskey, is the art and craft of the theater making, by an extraordinarily talented cast, and also by the designers, who get whimsical and weird (in a good way.)