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A CurtainUp Review
No Niggers, No Jews, No Dogs By Kathryn Osenlund No Niggers, No Jews, No Dogs is a pretty provocative title for a heartwarming play. The Philadelphia Inquirer didn't even print the full title in its Lively Arts section, calling it "No *******, No ****, No Dogs." (No joke.) I heard that the cast referred to it during rehearsals as "The No Play." The play, which had its world premiere on January 31 in Philadelphia, is not what you would expect. It is not even remotely in-your-face. Rather, it is nostalgic. Although it is about race, it is about larger issues of hate, love, vengeance and forgiveness, things that can be talked about in a number of ways and that have been getting said for a long time. These are safe things to say now. Like the author, John Henry Redwood, who spoke at Barnes and Noble recently, the play is warm, comfortable (although certain incidents are not), unaffected, and positive. The play opens and we hear a hummed song and crickets. There is a very small frame house you can almost see through. Behind it are long, sheer curtains partially obscuring a woods. There's a pump with running water and a tree stump. The set remains the same throughout the play. All the action, if you can call it that, takes place in front of the little house. There is little actual action. Maybe three scenes of real-time, story-moving import take place in front of our eyes. The rest is reported and we are looking at reactions. It is not just the remote past that is talked about. Characters come in and report on what has just happened to them. Key events take place off stage. This kind of theatre is understandable when a character must report on huge battle scenes with casts of thousands. Obviously the choice was made to narrate, but it wouldn't have been too hard to show action. It would have involved more actors, and heaven knows you don't want to have too many actors in a production if you want to see it produced. Still, add another three or four small parts, and the action of the play would have been action. We hear of a church with a windy preacher and lively singing; there is an important incident involving a yarmulke and some rednecks; we only hear of a rape, which could have been suggested visually with one extra character. Finally, a violent scene is related, part of which might have been shown instead of told. The characters talk at length about events of long ago, filling us in on the back-story. In one scene Yaveni Aaronsohn (Jack Aaron), a Jew, recounts the very long story of his life and love, his denial and his guilt, and the monologue seems to fill half the act. Still, he is a sympathetic character, sensitive and insightful -- who loves pork chops. He's the character who gets to talk about the (real) sign that was posted in Mississippi and for which the play is named. For our modern sensibilities, it seems that a truly well balanced play should involve more show than tell. This play just tells. Some of the very good things about the play are the characters and the actors. The playwright, in building a central woman character, has managed to avoid that easy Black Mama stereotype, seen in so many musicals and TV shows, and getting tiresome. Here the central woman character is an individual who comes across as a believable person and not a paper cut out. Mattie Cheeks, admirably played by Elizabeth Van Dyke, is a force for civilization, with concern for manners, respect, and forgiveness. She is trying to preserve dignity in her family and she manages to do it with charm and grace. The husband, Rawl Cheeks (played by Marcus Naylor, a fine actor), must leave town and go "bury dead white folks," leaving his wife to manage at home with her two young daughters, Matoka and Joyce, delightfully played by Charis M. Wilson and Adrienne Carter. They live in Halifax, South Carolina, and by all accounts the place is not safe for colored people. It seems like a KKK kind of place and it is incredible that the wife insists she wants to live there when her husband, who is feeling not only the effects of prejudice, but also stifled in the rural setting, wants to move on. A question is raised about right and wrong, what should be told to someone and what should not be told, and the ramifications of that question echo throughout the play. It also about marriage, and Mattie says that every colored woman knows that she must "take on the rage her man can't let loose anywhere else." There is a powerful scene about love where she begs her husband to stand with her in their marriage It is a racist time and, and when something bad happens, Mattie says that it "ain't right," but "right don't count for us." Aunt Cora (Rayme Cornell), an important character, a kind of wraith, dressed all in black with a large black hat and veil, carrying a lantern and humming, picks up a basket on the step and talks to no one --a repeated motif. She is just passing through, but not without being reminded by Mattie that she is loved. Near the end, in a climactic scene once removed and related by description, there is a too-slow recounting of a violent act. It appears to be intended to be heavy, agitated, and dramatic, but the audience laughed. Had it been shown somehow, perhaps behind a curtain, it may have carried the horror and solemnity it seemed intended to bear. Mattie, the wife and mother, and the teacher of others, does learn some lessons herself, and one is that perhaps Halifax is not the kind of place in which she should be living and bringing up her daughters. Other characters learn lessons too; however, it is noted that in a play with an overriding message of acceptance, it is a good dose of vengeance that solves the problem. To my mind there is a flaw in the otherwise very suitable set design in that we can see virtual entrances and exits just as clearly as the characters' 'real' entrances and exits. For example, we clearly see characters who are supposedly in the house actually exiting to the back and side. A discreet opaque screen behind the house and trees would help make such exits invisible, and this real distraction would disappear. In the end, behind a pretty daring title, the play is more about story telling than action. It is more about love than vengeance. It is steady and affirming. And there is always room for a playwright who writes about forgiveness. There is so much to forgive. Links to other John Henry Redwood plays reviewed at CurtainUp The In-Gathering The Old Settler
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