A CurtainUp Review
Andersen's tepid drama is not devoid of turmoil, but it bespeaks mayhem in miniature. Its discord plays out on a smaller scale. And the recurrent ToasT(s) of the title tend to distract from, rather than add to, the drama.
Rap recitals are de rigeur in ToasT— ToasTing personal histories, listless legends, the prison experience, and the overall vagaries of life. Urban verse is delivered directly to the audience or woven into dialogue by the six inmates on whom the play concentrates. They live in Cell Block D, designed by Alexis Distler. White-barred jail cells with only one or two physical sides nicely suggest the fully realized variety while enhancing the flow of the prisoners' movement. The cells flank a central open area where the inmates play cards and socialize.
Dolomite (Keith David) has been in prison twenty-three years and has become "the Man" of the cell block. He will soon be released. Phillip James Brannon, wearing a kerchief reminiscent of Hattie McDaniel in Gone with the Wind, is Annabelle Jones. She (Everyone refers to her in the feminine, and no one has a problem with her sexuality.) is in love with Dolomite and furious with him for not telling her he was leaving. Brannon skillfully shows us her simmering anger and complex personality. Quick on the uptake, she's always watching. She's a victim with a reservoir of strength.
Hobo Ben (Jonathan Peck) and Stackolee (John Earl Jelks) are older, seasoned inmates, similar in personality except for Stackolee's slightly more prickly temperament. Armando Riesco plays Jesse James, a relatively new recruit and the only non-African American among the prisoners. He tries to ingratiate himself with the others with mixed results by imitating "black" speech and behavior. He's impetuous, naïve, and unafraid. He's also funny. Andersen has given him a little more dimension than most of the other characters, and Riesco colorfully fills in the blanks.
The only character reminiscent of Attica as we know it is Hard Rock (F. Hill Harper). He runs around to meetings, prepares a list of demands, solicits signatures, and talks to anyone who'll listen (as well as sadistic prison official Sheriff Jody (Dan Butler), who won't). Harper succinctly captures the activist's zeal and boundless energy, as well as his descent into feeblemindedness when Jody puts him in his place before the riots have even begun.
Elise Thoron's direction is skilled but doesn't save ToasT from itself. Ultimately, the play doesn't work because its marriage of fact and fantasy is a cheat. That's not to say the two can't coexist, but there needs to be a relationship of some sort between them. It's not clear what the playwright's intention is, but he sends out a reality vibe and then backs it up with make believe with no point or point of reference. Hard Rock complains about inhumane conditions, but the prisoners float in and out of their unlocked cells with impunity. And Hard Rock seems to wander all over the prison unrestrained.
And then there are the ToasTs. Some, like Annabelle's reciting the chain of events that led her to Attica, ring true and add to the narrative. But others, like Jesse's rap about a lion, a monkey, and an elephant, are completely jive. Except for the four-letter words, it's a children's story. It's hard enough to accept that a felon behind bars would tell other inmates a story about talking animals, but it's even harder to believe they'd encourage and applaud his efforts.
The most authentic thing about ToasT is the prisoners' relationship with Sheriff Jody. He has no sympathy whatsoever for their gripes, believing that the crimes they committed deprive them of the right to be treated like anything other than animals. His disdain for the inmates is palpable, and it comes right back at him. They're most alive when reacting to his patronizing contempt. It's a dynamic that brings real conflict to the stage — something that's sorely missing from the rest of the play.