Reviewed
by Jerry Kraft
August
Wilson has a
very special place in Seattle theatre. Nine of the ten plays in his epic,
African-American Century cycle have been produced here, as well as his only
solo performance. He lived on Seattle's Capitol Hill for many years, and was
frequently seen in the lobbies of local theatres. His passing last October felt
to many of us like a death in the family, and this production of his final
play, "Radio Golf" is both valedictory and memorial. Happily, it is also
one that celebrates all the best of his gift for creative, entertaining drama
with sharp, distinctive characters and a passionate need to express the
outrage, hope, conflict and enduring strength of the African-American
experience.
In
a beautifully acted, briskly paced production, under the expert direction of Kenny
Leon, the
century concludes in the late 1990's, in a small real-estate office located at
the blighted center of Wilson's familiar Hill District of Pittsburg. Harmond
Wilks is a real
estate developer who is now running for mayor. His campaign slogan is
"Hold Him To It" and the play slowly enriches our understanding that
what he is being held to is a personal connection with the history of this
city, of this community, of his people, and of his own integrity. The office is
the only intact business nested in a towering cityscape of blackened ruin,
brilliantly realized by set designer David Gallo.
Rocky
Carroll is terrific
as Harmond, making him likable and admirable, but also giving dimension to his
personal conflicts and depth to his responsibility toward the people who have
come before him. Throughout this play, Wilson fills this decrepit neighborhood
with real ghosts, real pain and real authority that can be ignored only at
great cost. By making Harmond a man of substance, both in wealth and in
character, the first of Wilson's protagonists to be firmly in the upper
middle-class carries privilege and responsibility in equal measure.
At
issue is a major development to revitalize the Hill district, but in order to
proceed they must first demolish the near ruin of a house at 1839 Wylie, where
many of Wilson's previous plays have taken place. Questions of rightful ownership,
potential compromise, progress and abandonment of heritage all are embodied in
a "worthless" home, apparently of value only to the irascible Elder
Joseph Barlow. Harmond's desire to "save the city" seems possible
only at the cost of a moral and ethical compromise he is unwilling to make. His
distinct if ill-defined connection with this powerless old man is also his
connection to a family relationship, and a cultural relationship, lost in the
rubble of the past. The vivid characterization of Barlow by Anthony Chisholm draws a firm line through all of
the preceding characters and stories of Wilson's epic, and links his identity
with the essential identity of Harmond. "If his life don't mean nothin',
then my life don't mean nothin'," another character says about an Army
buddy, and about all of the others in this play.
For
Harmond's ambitious and successful partner, Roosevelt, the only history that
really matters is the tally at the end of today's ledger. James A. Williams gives the character a nice blend
of swagger, greed, pride and accomplishment, making his pragmatism as sensible
as it is soulless. He is the passionate golfer who finds in a perfect swing the
absolute freedom that rises above all circumstance of race and society. When
his race is used in order for partners to buy into a "minority owned"
radio station, he broadcasts a program of golf advice, adding yet another layer
of separation from the reality of his game. When Harmond tries to stop the
development, Roosevelt uses his newly found financial power ruthlessly. The
junk on the Hill is going to give way to new, upscale apartments and trendy
businesses. And Roosevelt will have an even more expensive car to park on the
street, and try to protect from "those people."
Completing
the ensemble is John Earl Jelks, as Sterling Johnson, an honest tradesman who has to be
his own union in order to get a fair job. His authority and integrity
underscore the compromised "labor" of Harmond and Roosevelt, and also
connect the real identity of the hill to the plans for the future. Denise
Burse plays
Harmond's wife, Mame, with elegance and urbane sophistication, making it clear
that her vision of both the Hill's, and Harmond's future is one of capitalistic
modernity. She is unsentimental and motivated, and whether Harmond will go
forward with her, or she will go forward without him, is entirely his decision.
At
times August Wilson can simply be too verbose, too enamored with the wonderful
monologues and disputations of a first-rate mind grappling with important and
complex questions. But in "Radio Golf", he seems to be at ease with
the action of the play, the interaction and conflicts of the individuals. He's
also willing to give us simple pleasures, the light moments and revealing
gestures of commonplace life. It's a substantial story about familiar and
significant characters leading us to insights about vital subjects. I don't
think you get to ask much more from the drama.
Whether
all of the plays in Wilson's cycle will endure is a question only time can
answer, and almost certainly some are considerably better than others. But the
entire work is a singular and towering achievement, both more ambitious and
more fully realized than anything else in contemporary theatre. We don't get
very many truly great playwrights in a lifetime. For me personally, to know
that I was able to sit in a theatre with him a couple of rows away, to listen
to him talk in post-play discussions, and to see almost all of his writing
produced on local stages is one of the highlights in my theatre-going life.
August Wilson cast a very big shadow.