Brotherhood

I didn't really know what I was walking into last Thursday night. The only thing I knew about the show is that it was from the same guy who wrote Moonlight (especially since people never forgot to mention this fact when referring to it), and having only seen snippets of the film in a previous screenwriting class I can't say that I was well versed with his work. However, I wasn't expecting anything less than amazing from an Oscar winning writer. I am glad to say that I was blown away by the utter complexity of the show, it managed to be simultaneously comedic yet heartbreaking, real yet abstract, poetic yet colloquial. The characters were so well cast and the acting itself was out of this world. Every movement and change in voice the actors made helped paint a whole distinct world within the line of the white chalk circle. I was truly transported to my home state of south Florida and got to intimately see a whole new human experience through this beautiful Theatrical production.

The Brothers Size @ The Young Vic

Nestled into the Young Vic’s in-the-round theatre, I felt cradled in The Brothers Size’s tender and loving portrayal of a fraternal relationship.  After a stint in prison, younger brother Oshoosi tries to adapt back into his normal life. He wiles away his time sleeping, hanging out with former cell-mate Alegba and being watched by his protective older brother Ogun. Too often we see the same stereotype of the African American man: a macho, aggressive, drug dealer who speaks in drawls and only knows a life of crime. However, Tarell Alvin McCraney (writer of the beautiful, Oscar winning Moonlight) subverts these stereotypes into three men who love each other in different ways. His poetic language reveals Oshoosi as goofy and vulnerable, Ogun as gentle but stern and protective, and Alegba as sly and manipulative.

The performance blended traditional theatre with physical theatre, dance, song and poetry, all performed in a chalk circle dusted with red powder that seemed to radiate heat from a southern state sun. The chemistry and mastery of acting from the three actors was the highlight of the performance. They were so in sync with each other and with the rhythm of the music. Nowhere was this clearer than in Ogun and Oshoosi’s joyous rendition of Try a Little Tenderness -  a scene so blissful that it made me want to jump up and sing along with them. I didn’t, but my foot was definitely tapping along in appreciation.

Any Indecent Exposure? – Although a black female perspective of racial incarceration in southern USA may have provided exposure for a more marginalised group of people, the complete lack of black male stereotypes, and the beautiful relationships made this performance a worthy one to watch.

The Brothers Size - A Folk Tale

As soon as they cast the red dust, I was into it.  Even more when I realized there would be only three actors.  And once Oshoosi and Ogun began singing together, I was in love.  The show, perfectly paced, hit a number of beats that engaged the audience further and further, retracing their movements and emotions just as Ogun retraced his pantomime of getting out from under the car over and over again.  The spare set let the relationships shine and made every movement, every line significant in this intimate retelling of the way two black brothers encounter America.  The dreams, the slow revelation, the folk tale name - it incorporated everything old that is new again (elements of traditional storytelling and folk tales) as well as the ever-present issue of police discrimination against black men and the complexity of a sibling relationship.

I don't think I'll ever forget the scene of the brother singing, completing the trajectory of pure vulnerability just before they are torn apart (potentially forever).  The arc and pacing of the show revealed just enough for us to be engaged and in love and afraid for them that the pay off of the scene engrossed us all, potentially the only time I stopped thinking of myself and others as conscious audience members and became immersed.  Overall,  The Brothers Size is an immersive emotional experience that used movement and minimalism to great effect.

Brothers Size, Sized Up

I arrived at The Young Vic three minutes past 7:30, out of breath. As I approached the doors to the venue, myself and the people I was with were greeted by a terse woman, a bit harshly informing us that we were late and would have to wait a few minutes to be admitted. Two minutes later, we were scurried in and escorted to our seats, far from the stage. I took in the arena-type theater and prepared for...I didn't know what. This appears to be a recurring theme in my theatrical excursions. The show began rather dramatically with the throwing of red-colored powder as a man drew a giant white circle out of chalk and two others danced around him. Interesting...and I'm still sweating from the change from cold to warm. Once I got over a bit of a language barrier, I began to catch on to the plot. The main character, Oshoosi, is fresh out of prison and apparently still trying to get "back on his feet" (literally and metaphorically). At the beginning of the play, I found myself cringing at every vulgar term and the colloquial use of the infamous "N-word." However, 20 minutes in (or so I'm assuming as I was so enthralled time was not actively considered), the harsh language became commonplace. I'm no longer sweating and am comfortable in my bench seat. While there is much to say about the plot, the theatricality, the acting, the singing, the dancing,  etc., what stuck with me most was the atmosphere, accompanied by the reactions of the fellow theater-goers. The quiet gasps, "oohs," "ahhs," and every noise in between actually added to my experience! The final scene ended with Ogun's narration that the play had come to an end, and I was struck. Directly following however, was the abrupt exclamation of an "wow" from an audience member sitting behind me. Chills crawl across my arms and legs and I found myself devoid of all words except for an echoing "wow" myself. I'd pay that twenty pounds many times over to see Brothers Size again. My experience at the Young Vic was breath-taking.

The Brothers Size at The Young Vic

A stage surrounded by tiered seating in the round. We're looking down at the deep pit where, like the matador and the bull, the love between two brothers and the friendship between two inmates will fight until one has won and one has lost. We begin with the fluid movements of three bodies that produce the striking image of a white chalk circle with two thin flashes of red power across the diameter. We learn that Oshoosi has just got out of prison and his responsible older brother, Ogun Size, who owns a car repair shop is looking after him. They squabble and get angry at each other. Elega, a friend who was younger Size's inmate is introduced as a potential trouble maker or good friend. Time passes and the friend appears more and more mysterious. We hear of a sheriff in the town who has something against Oshoosi and his friend. Then younger Size gets found with drugs in his car when in fact they are the inmate's. The two brothers have a strongly emotional argument about how the cops got involved. The following evening they share a singsong and a dance of innocent brotherly joy and in the morning Ogun helps Oshoosi escape with hopes that he will travel the world. On an analytic level there is tension between the brothers over the younger brothers laziness (later revealed as tiredness) and the older brothers parental role that became a little overbearing. The climax comes when the police are once again on the tail of the younger brother and the conclusion ends with the sad yet slightly hopeful resolution of escape. But from my own emotional level it was deeply rich with energy, humour and grit. The choice to stage it in a way that maximised the power of the suspension of disbelief - with no props, no costume changes and with stage directions spoken aloud not only highlighted the actors' talent and allowed the voice of the playwright to be heightened but made every action clear, defined, raw. The focus was on the movement of the bodies that transitioned between scenes with the skill of dancers, the work of art that effortlessly evolved on the floor as the play went on and the expressive musicality of the voices and percussionist. The play spoke to me about a sibling's capacity to love and the eventual insignificance of mistakes and bad decisions. I got quite annoyed at a woman behind me who kept on commenting aloud on moments - 'oh, okay' - because that space and our attention and that silence was for the play only. I didn't want the beauty tainted by someone who had not been involved with its exquisite craft.

THE COMFORTER at The Yard

The Comforter: not a particularly comforting performance, until the last few minutes when I finally sort of understood what the performance was getting at. As part of a trilogy of performances on faith, The Comforter represents Stacey Makishi’s feelings on The Holy Ghost. Alone on stage, Makishi poured her heart out. We heard stories of loss, love, connection and disconnection. We heard Makishi’s opinion that she doesn’t deserve love and that we should ‘choose death’, not life. Like I said, not very comforting. We also saw her sing along to some George Michael songs. There was a clip from Dumbo. There were breathing exercises. There was a suitcase that she was stuffed into. There was a tub of Vaseline, which was prodded by an audience member, which was then prodded into various other audience members’ crevices. All her talk of connection made me wonder where the connection was in her performance. All these elements didn’t seem to match up. Until one silent moment, where Stacey stuffed the duvet, the love she felt she didn’t deserve, under her shirt. She desperately held it close to her body, and we watched silently at her struggle. That simple action clicked for me, and I could have happily watched it for much longer.

Makishi’s performance lived up to its name in the end, with an uplifting message: ‘We’re all worthy of love.’ I just don’t see what that has to do with The Holy Ghost. Or George Michael. Or a Vaseline soaked finger being poked between different ‘holes’.

Any Indecent Exposure?                   Makishi mentioned her queer identity in passing. Love is the same whatever your sexual orientation, and that was refreshing to see.