Performances Elevate CenterStage's "Trouble in Mind"

            In the late 1950's "Colored Theatre" took a giant leap forward with Lorraine Hansberry's A Raisin in the Sun.  While that play continues to be revived, studied and filmed, another "colored" play has gone on to be largely unproduced and is certainly not the cultural touchstone that Raisin is.  That play, Trouble in Mind, by Alice Childress, opened last night at Baltimore's CenterStage.  The reasons for Mind's relative obscurity have largely to do with the very subject of the play - the producers of the play wanted to "whiten" it up, i.e. make it more palatable to Broadway audiences smug in their perceived superiority to minorities.  Like the play's central character, Wiletta, Ms. Childress was being forced to perpetuate sad stereotypes through half-truths and pat endings.  And like Wiletta, she put her foot down and said, "No more."  So, a few years later, A Raisin in the Sun broke through the color barrier, becoming the first Broadway play by an African American woman, relegating Trouble in Mind to footnote status.

            Kudos to CenterStage for finding this piece and bringing it to a new audience.  There is much to applaud here; it features a nearly flawless cast and sharp direction by Irene Lewis.  And, as usual, the technical elements are first rate - the backstage set (designed by David Kornis) is extremely detailed, Catherine Zuber's 50's era costumes illuminate the characters inhabiting them, and the lighting (designed by Rui Rita) creates a colorful theatricality, at times as stark as the action, and at others, just as moody.

            Apparently, there was much discussion as to whether or not the play was still relevant to today's world.  Could a play-within-a-play about a lynching and the play itself about compromise and blatant ignorance about the races be more than a museum piece for CenterStage's cultured audiences?  Surely, some thought, that kind of limited thinking was no longer an issue in the "progressive world" of entertainment.  Well, apparently, word got out and the answer came back with a resounding, "Yes!  It is relevant."  One need only hear the audience laughing heartily and knowingly at the jokes about black characters named after jewels (Ruby, etc.) or flowers (Gardenia, etc.), or the chuckles at the black man answering, "Yassuh.  Dat's right, suh" to his white director, to know that we, as an audience, aren't that far removed from it. 

Sadly, that sense of "that was then, this is now" removal from the ignorance onstage, was on display in the lobby during intermission and after the show, as patrons grouped themselves by skin color; African Americans remembering the days when blacks were in fact only allowed to play maids and slaves, and cheering Ms. Childress for having the guts to write about it; whites looking smugly self-congratulatory at "not thinking that way" and yet griping, "same old thing… it is always our fault."  If there was ever a need for an argument as to why CenterStage needs to continue presenting these plays, this is it!  Clearly, the point was missed by more than a few first-nighters.

            Part of the reason for that smug detachment on the part of some patrons might come from the fact that despite its timely message, the play itself is in many ways hopelessly dated.  Yes, the characters in the "play" are grossly stereotypical and shameful.  But the characters who are "actors" in the "play" are, by today's standards, stereotypical as well.  There is the seasoned black actress who mothers the college grad black actor, who himself feels superior.  Then there is the sassy black actress, in it for the money, and the shuffling, mumbling uneducated black man offering comic relief in an Emitt Kelly kind of way.  Then, of course, the "avante-garde" white director who is a bigoted tyrant, tired of being blamed for every injustice; his mousy, scared-to-death assistant and the white actress fresh from the Ivy League, who has to make it known that she, of course, is opposed to any and all bigotry, yet pines for her mummy and daddy in Bridgeport.  It is these stereotypes that lend a certain distancing between the audience and piece.  Perhaps in the 1950's these weren't stock characters, but today, in many ways it is as described above - the same old thing.

            And yet, this production is thoroughly winning in spite of any script issues, and that is largely due to the uniformly smart, risk-taking performances of the cast and thoughtful use of the stage and brisk pacing of the direction.  Several moments in the play stand out, creating an almost unbearable tension.  In act one, for example, the director of the play crumples a piece of paper and throws it to the floor, then abusively belittles the lone white actress as he menacingly moves her around stage explaining stage directions to her.  Then he makes a comment about trash onstage, at which point the terrifiEd White actress stoops to pick up the paper.  He stops her and demands that one of the black actresses pick it up instead.  Those few minutes are seared into this reviewer's mind.  The sexist and racist cruelty portrayed in that simple moment was at once maddening and astonishing.  Several other such moments help propel this piece of theatre into everything it aspires to be.  One will have to look long and hard to find a more tightly intertwined ensemble.

            Individually, each actor elevates the characters they play with intensity and detail.  In the leading role of Wiletta, E. Faye Butler continues to prove that she is a brilliant actress.  She commands the stage with a grace and dignity that inspires.  Her performance is fierce, no holds barred and yet elegant.  Like a steam pipe full and ready to burst, she builds and builds to a glorious explosion of theatricality in act two, when her Wiletta can no longer sit by the sidelines, mouth closed.  And still, even when she blows the roof of the place, she knowingly brings it back down with a painful sigh of resignation and a quiet, calm reiteration of her point.  Wiletta's primary nemesis, white director Al Manners (perfectly, ironically named) is played with a chilling severity by Craig Wroe, who manages to make smarmy both a repelling and appealing quality.  He spews hate with a searing righteous indignation and a pomposity that infuriates.  Mr. Wroe is one of a few actors who can handle, compliment, and go head to head with Ms. Butler.  Their fireworks are absolutely thrilling.

            In the supporting roles, all stand out as well.  Thomas Jefferson Byrd, as Sheldon, the older black man, plays the role with a quiet dignity, and a miserably sad resignation that things aren't going to change in his lifetime, so why not just do what must be done to get by with the fewest waves made.  Mr. Byrd is equally at home in his dramatic and comedic moments.  Starla Benford, as Millie, the sassy smart-ass actress plays her role with an on-her-sleeve dignity, and with sharp barbs executed with finesse.  Her quieter moments, and those when she observes the action, are exquisite.  It is, unfortunately, rarer and rarer to find an actor with as much invested watching the action as being a part of it.  As the younger, educated black actor, John, LeRoy McClain finds a striking balance between cocky arrogance and being part of the group.  His matinee idol looks and James Earl Jones-like delivery adds a nice pillar of strength to the supporting cast, and he also plays confusion well, particularly when heeding the advice of his castmates to clearly disatrous result.

            Daren Kelly, as the pompous white actor, delivers a fine speech at the start of act two, expertly playing the "character" and the arrogant fool that his actor character is. This duality is both funny and very telling about the piece, the audience, and the themes of the play - style over substance, maintaining the status quo, etc.  Maria Dizzia, as Judy, the Yale grad actress is a wonder as well, navigating the tough fine line between bubble head and intellectual, and her outburst in act two was cathartic for all concerned, even if it was short-lived.  Garrett Neergaard as Eddie, the hapless assistant, is no less than terrific, saying what he really feels wordlessly with his face.  He is sympathetic without being pathetic.  Finally, veteran actor Laurence O'Dwyer gives a touching, wry performance as an aging stagehand, who has seen it all before, and doesn't care what anyone else thinks - he'll like whomever he pleases.  One gets the sense that O'Dwyer isn't that far removed from his character.

            The lone blemish on the otherwise flawless cast is an actor playing an essentially needless character as it is.  B. Thomas Rinaldi, as the stagehand, has the stage as the audience enters.  He is allegedly prepping the space for the first read-through of the new play.  Talk about milking it for all its worth.  He mugs and grunts and mugs some more, occasionally making some kind of noise to draw attention to himself.  Mr. Rinaldi should take a look at how Mr. O'Dwyer and Mr. Neergaard serve basically the same function throughout.  They create character without overplaying.  It seems odd that such a thing is happening in an otherwise minutely focused production.

            Trouble in Mind is a show not to miss.  Ms. Butler and company are first rate, even when the material isn't always.  It is rare, indeed to find theater that is both greatly entertaining and intellectually stimulating.

 

PHOTOS: Main Page: E. Faye Butler; TOP to BOTTOM: Craig Wroe and E. Faye Butler; Maria Dizzia (foreground); The Cast of Trouble in Mind.

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