Psalmayene 24 and Jabari Exum in Dear Mapel — Photo: Chris Banks
A heartfelt ode to fathers and sons, finding your voice, and growing up hip-hop, Psalmayene 24’s epistolary drama Dear Mapel (★★★★☆) also profoundly honors the lost art of letter-writing. That distinctly direct and intimate mode of expressing what’s most deeply felt, and saying what often can’t be spoken, serves as Psalm’s chosen means of addressing the father he barely knew.
Via letters to Mapel, the award-winning performer and playwright vividly evokes his own coming-of-age enriched by art and music, while examining the main thing, or person, that went missing.
For this world premiere production, director and production designer Natsu Onoda Power engulfs Mosaic’s Sprenger Theatre stage in a sweeping deluge of paper missives. Dozens more balled-up sheets of paper litter the floor, stray thoughts rejected or reconsidered.
The setting suggests a flood of stories, emotions, unaired grievances, and unshared joys, more than could be contained in a thousand letters, or however many it might take for the writer to feel some sense of closure.
The calm center of the storm at his writing desk, Psalm admits that closure remains elusive. But, as he quotes his Jamaican granddad, “nothing beats a failure but a try.”
So the show — which opens with Psalm’s beautifully written “I Am” poem introducing himself as an “incorrigible, nonconformist Jamerican…fly-ass motherfucker” — constitutes a powerful attempt to reach someone who can no longer respond. Though perhaps Mapel, as much as the audience, can still somehow receive the message.
That metal writing desk, the only piece of furniture onstage, turns out to be quite the adaptable supporting player as Psalm enacts fond reminiscences of growing up in Brooklyn, losing his virginity, founding the dance troupe Subtle Motion while attending Howard U., and growing from aspiring actor to accomplished artist.
His truest support along the 90-minute journey is actor-percussionist Jabari Exum, also brilliantly adaptable, whether stepping in to play backup dancer, bandmate, or various other roles.
Most often, Exum, also known as Jabari DC, supplies inspiring musical accompaniment on drums and percussion, as Psalmayene brings to life his search for self, and for flagrant womanizer Mapel. Some stories register as pleas to his dad, who was barely around when Psalm was a kid, became estranged as Psalm reached adulthood, then died before the two could firmly put their differences to rest.
Other tales from his life — including a fateful turn on Amateur Night at the Apollo, and an eye-opening stint as the only Black cast member in a European touring company of Pinocchio — illustrate tests of character that he could only have faced alone.
Warmly open in his interactions with the audience, Psalm entertains as a storyteller, while also transmitting layers of pain and grief, with hints of regret but no bitterness. And he uses humor effectively to handle sensitive subjects like the overwhelming anxiety of a Black man trying to choose a watermelon in the supermarket without looking like a stereotype.
These well-chosen bits and passages tend to offer modest stakes, definitely more life lessons than life or death. But we already know what’s at stake for fathers and sons, and we can feel for this artist, now a devoted husband himself, what’s at stake for him in every letter, real and imagined.
The letters themselves are the conversation and its record, poignant reminders to speak what can be spoken while you have the chance.
Dear Mapel runs through Feb. 13 at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St. NE.
Video-on-demand production will be available for streaming Feb. 14 to 27.
Tickets for in-person performances are $68, and individual tickets for streaming are $40. Call 202-399-7993, ext. 2 or visit www.mosaictheater.org.
Oh! If only we could trade in real-world troubles for the confectionery town of Schmigadoon. Granted, we're not sure exactly where it is, nor do we have a clue as to why everyone is dressed in prairie dresses, Edwardian suits, or chore coats. And sure, it's problematic that there will be an auction at the social where women are auctioned off for a date. "Somehow we're ok with this," the townspeople sing in winking fashion. There is so much mystery around this fantastical place that has just landed on Broadway.
What we do know is that most of the residents in the town are cheerful, jaunty, squeaky clean, and they can't stop singing about, well, anything and everything. And by the final curtain, even cynics who loathe musicals will exit the Nederlander Theatre with elation, humming the tunes and buzzing with joy.
A Confederate flag in a casket makes for a provocative and profoundly satisfying parting image in Studio Theatre's potently funny production of Purlie Victorious (A Non-Confederate Romp Through the Cotton Patch).
Satisfying, because as a nation, the U.S. has been trying for 160 years to bury the Confederacy and the slavery-based economy for which its proponents fought and died.
Provocative, because as we're reminded every election cycle all these years since the Civil War, those same Confederate principles, rooted in white supremacy and Black oppression, persisted in the Jim Crow South, and, apparently, still animate the politics of a too-large swath of our fellow Americans today.
Following closely in the wake of courtroom drama Inherit the Wind, Arena opens the forum of its in-the-round Fichandler Stage to another heated debate on the nature of humanity, among other things, in Christoper Chen's The Motion.
A new play by Obie Award-winning writer Chen, The Motion may someday prove to have the lasting cultural impact of Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee's 70-year-old courtroom drama. For now, audiences can weigh its impact nightly, enjoying this gripping production, staged by Arena artistic director Hana S. Sharif.
Sharif uses the space fluently for what begins as a straightforward two-on-two debate between scholars arguing either side of a hot-button bio-ethical issue. Seated at a table in one corner, Dr. Alan James (Barzin Akhavan) and Professor Lily Chan (Peregrine Teng Heard) face-off against Dr. Sarah Matthis (Nikkole Salter) and Professor Neal Bharara (Nehal Joshi), in the opposite corner.
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