Tuesday, 27 February 2007 05:11 pm
(no subject)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deckardcanineMy latest Arena Stage ushering night was for one of August Wilson's later plays, Gem of the Ocean. My previous Wilson experience consisted of one reading of Fences and one viewing of The Piano Lesson at Arena. I knew to expect a focus on an unhappy African-American household with at least a hint of something spiritual late in the game.
More than in the previous plays I mentioned, this one is about interracial relations. The setting is 1904 Pittsburgh, but they could easily have fooled me into thinking it was the South. Black men talk of being paid less than promised, of having to go into debt for "room and board" that includes no board, of desperate food thieves getting killed by a well-off officer who happens to be Black and claims that the law is all that matters. They even have to be stealthy to leave town. There is one White character, a shady traveling salesman who nonetheless seems quite racially tolerant.
Like in many plays in the Fichandler, the staging is interesting. The floor is made of irregularly shaped, almost spirally arranged boards with blue and orange coloring (not as hard on the eyes as I make it sound). Above are three two-dimensional staircases and a window hanging in the air, apparently to give us some idea of the second floor. There are two winding staircases to the basement, but I don't recall more than one being used by the actors.
The most visually interesting moment is a young man's ritual "voyage" on the folded paper boat Gem of the Ocean. It reminded me of the Rasta ganja sequence in Rule of the Bone, partly for its evocation of slavehood.
What made this play most unusual for me was the fact that I liked it and yet it felt as long as it was -- 2 hours and 45 minutes, plus an intermission. The length was really the only gripe anyone had. Kinda reminded me of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man that way. Maybe Wilson would have gone back and pared it down if he found the time.
The audience, naturally, had a far greater proportion of African-Americans than usual. Too bad it was so small, even if that did make things easy for us ushers.
More than in the previous plays I mentioned, this one is about interracial relations. The setting is 1904 Pittsburgh, but they could easily have fooled me into thinking it was the South. Black men talk of being paid less than promised, of having to go into debt for "room and board" that includes no board, of desperate food thieves getting killed by a well-off officer who happens to be Black and claims that the law is all that matters. They even have to be stealthy to leave town. There is one White character, a shady traveling salesman who nonetheless seems quite racially tolerant.
Like in many plays in the Fichandler, the staging is interesting. The floor is made of irregularly shaped, almost spirally arranged boards with blue and orange coloring (not as hard on the eyes as I make it sound). Above are three two-dimensional staircases and a window hanging in the air, apparently to give us some idea of the second floor. There are two winding staircases to the basement, but I don't recall more than one being used by the actors.
The most visually interesting moment is a young man's ritual "voyage" on the folded paper boat Gem of the Ocean. It reminded me of the Rasta ganja sequence in Rule of the Bone, partly for its evocation of slavehood.
What made this play most unusual for me was the fact that I liked it and yet it felt as long as it was -- 2 hours and 45 minutes, plus an intermission. The length was really the only gripe anyone had. Kinda reminded me of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man that way. Maybe Wilson would have gone back and pared it down if he found the time.
The audience, naturally, had a far greater proportion of African-Americans than usual. Too bad it was so small, even if that did make things easy for us ushers.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject