survivors
by Douglas Messerli
Lorraine Hansberry A Raisin in the Sun / the performance I
saw was February 18, 2012 at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, Culver City, California
I had not previously seen a stage
performance of the original Lorraine Hansberry play, A Raisin in the Sun, although I had long ago seen the film version
with Sidney Poitier and Ruby Dee, and I had read the play some time in college,
as well as seeing the sentimentalized musical version in its premiere on May
30th, 1973, my 26th birthday at Washington, D.C.'s Arena Theater. So I thought
it only fitting that I check out a new stage production at the Kirk Douglas
Theater in Culver City, just a short drive from my Los Angeles home.
Although the well-made play of political and social concerns is not
generally my kind of theater, I thought it might be interesting to see how the
play has stood, to use a tired cliché, "the test of time." And the
fact that my previous physician, with the strangely appropriate name of Dr.
Redcross, was married to a niece of Hansberry's, who was very involved in her
aunt's estate and interested in theater, made the visit an even more
appropriate event.
When I mentioned my attendance of this play to an intelligent and highly
esteemed friend, her response was: "I couldn't possibly ever see anything
so sweet. If that makes an elitist, so be it."
Although at times A Raisin in the
Sun may be bittersweet, I would never characterize anything in this gritty
story of the Younger family as "sweet." Even the mother, Lena (Kim
Staunton), played to type as the sort of reaffirming, religious center of
family life, is rarely joyful. And the rest of the family, Walter Lee (Kevin T.
Carroll) and Beneatha (Kenya Alexander), particularly, battle it out in a
Chicago ghetto world that has little room for anyone but survivors. The
youngest of the Younger family, Travis, is forced to sleep on the couch, and is
sent out of the house to play whenever there is a serious family discussion or
argument—which occurs at regular intervals throughout the play.
Walter Lee's wife, Ruth (Deidrie Henry), is again pregnant, and given
the condition of their apartment and the family squabbles, is considering
having an abortion. Her husband, an incompetent dreamer, is so belittled by his
chauffeur job that he is near the level of despair suggested by the title's
quote from the Langston Hughes poem, "A Dream Deferred."
What struck me as particularly interesting in this play is the fact that
the issues it raises are still current. The most interesting character of the
drama is Beneatha, a strong young woman determined to make a success through
education, an opinionated being who is also fascinated by her lost African
roots. When her education money goes missing, she is still determined to travel
with her friend, Joseph Asagi (Amad Jackson) to his homeland in Nigeria, in
order to experience new worlds and sights.
The final straw that breaks this family is the racist reaction of the
"welcoming" committee to their new home, represented by the white Mr.
Karl Linder (Scott Mosenson), who tries to skirt the issue of racism by
describing a sense of community difference from their own: this community is
even willing to buy the house at a higher price than they have paid! At first,
all family members join in their disdain of the proposal, quickly showing him
the door. But the saddest moment of the play comes when, having lost the
remaining money, Walter Lee, completely giving up their dreams, decides to
capitulate, agreeing the Clybourne community's offer.
The only problem with the version, directed by Phylicia Rashad that I
attended was some of the character's attempts to play to the obviously
sympathetic audience. The character of Walter Lee, in particular, was often
played for humor. There is indeed irony, if not outright humor, in many of
Hansberry's lines, but to milk that in a role centered upon despair defeats the
playwright's purpose. Since Beneatha, in her more sophisticated thinking, is
almost an outsider to her own family, she was saved from these winking asides,
and was the stronger figure for it.
Yet overall and over all these years, Hansberry's A Raisin in the Sun remains a strong American statement of faith
and strength against the daily travails of innercity life. If that means these
characters or this play are somehow "sweet," then call me a
populist—something no one has ever described me as being before.
Los Angeles, March 14, 2012
Reprinted from USTheater, Opera and Performance (March 2012).
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