In the darkly comic mythological fable Cracking Zeus, playwright Christopher T. Hampton brings a vengeful goddess down to earth. But while the play, inventively staged by Reginald L. Douglas, reaches for divine comedy, Spooky Action Theatre’s production remains earthbound.
The angry deity in question is Hera (Nicole Ruthmarie), who deigns to set foot on Earth for the sole purpose of exacting revenge on one of her husband Zeus’ many mistresses by punishing the progeny of their affair.
That mistress would be Momma Jo (Lolita Marie), the founder, owner, treasurer, and pastor of a street corner chapel in the ’90s inner city, and her son Baniaha (Charles Franklin IV), the congregation’s youth group leader, is the ill-fated son of Zeus. Although, Baniaha doesn’t know who his father is.
He also doesn’t know that, like many a Bible thumper, Momma Jo didn’t use to walk the straight-and-narrow. But Rufus (DeJeanette Horne), the so-called “crackhead” who squats on the sidewalk outside the church, he knows. He claims to know a lot about Jo’s life before she found Jesus, while she does her best to keep the church youth far away from him and whatever truth he might reveal.
Still, drug-addled Rufus winds up holding court on the chapel’s new marble steps, pontificating sometimes wisely about the blights ravaging the city, and about the goddess who, at first, appears only to him. In a dynamic performance, Horne spins Rufus’ street philosopher revelries into a rich portrait of a mind and soul lost to addiction, though perhaps not irrevocably.
Marie’s jittery, domineering Momma Jo similarly offers a dense, colorful palette of tics and emotions that fill in some of those blanks she keeps buried in the past. In their vital supporting turns, Horne and Marie amp up the tension.
Playing the youth choir members, Bowie State’s Jacobie Thornton, and Howard U. acting students Destiny Jennings, Dupre Isaiah, and Christina Daniels as the most kindhearted of them, bring vibrant comedic energy to their roles as a veritable Greek chorus.
The emotional weight of the piece falls on Hera and Baniaha, however, and, in those roles, respectively, Ruthmarie and Franklin register the intention without the full force of feeling behind it.
Gorgeously costumed, if not that originally, in goddess white throughout, Ruthmarie conveys Hera’s haughtiness, expressed in her plummy, eloquent speeches. The language rolls off Ruthmarie’s tongue and sits there, a mellifluous sound signifying disdain and displeasure, but disconnected from the hurt and humiliation that might motivate this queen to plot something so evil as getting someone hooked on crack.
Douglas’ production realizes Hampton’s fanciful depiction of the crack-ridden ’90s with astute design and details — like the Washington Bullets jersey and FUBU tee on the kids — that also evoke the story’s nods to ancient Greek myth. From the chapel’s marble steps, to the Greek drama-masked figures whose haunting dance interludes signal a descent into a crack high, ancient and modern religion meet on Momma Jo’s corner.
There, Hampton lands the play’s surest insight, that crack didn’t just happen to the hood, but was a deliberately wielded weapon of mass destruction.
Cracking Zeus (★★☆☆☆) runs through Oct. 13, at Universalist National Memorial Church, 1810 16th St. NW. Tickets are $15 to $38. Call 202-248-0301, or visit www.spookyaction.org.
Theater suggestions are part of a critic's job. So when a friend sent a text asking for a recommendation to take his visiting mom to -- "something joyful" on Broadway was the requirement -- I didn't waste a moment responding: Boop! The Musical.
It may seem a surprising answer because the property upon which it's based comes from a cartoon that was popular from 1930 to 1939. Nevertheless, Betty Boop has endured, accumulating legions of cross generational fans and becoming one of the most globally recognized animated figures of all time.
Director and choreographer Jerry Mitchell, who has a knack for leaving audiences on a natural high after all his shows, once again brings literal glitter to a work that makes us long for the days when nearly every old-fashioned musical delivered big thrills.
Priyanka Shetty's incisive solo play #Charlottesville starts by asking, "Priyanka, where were you on August 11 and 12, 2017?"
Those days will live in infamy, not only for the brigade of torch-carrying, Dockers-wearing dickheads marching through the streets of Charlottesville, Virginia, but for the tragic death of Heather Heyer, killed by a self-avowed white supremacist who drove his car into a crowd of counter-protesters.
The firestorm set off by the protests and counter-protests, and the ensuing state of emergency and vehicular mass attack, was only further inflamed by then-President Trump's tone-deaf, at best, comments in response.
Musicals don't always have to impress with kicklines, jazz hands, and spectacle. As Kander and Ebb wrote in their poignant song, "A Quiet Thing," "Happiness comes in on tip-toe/ well what'd'ya know/ It's a quiet thing/ A very quiet thing."
Much like the unexpected sleeper hit of the season, Maybe Happy Ending, a love story about two obsolete robots finding true connection, the Off-Broadway All the World's A Stage, is a wholly original story that quietly and happily makes room for reflection and introspection.
Gen X theater lovers particularly will appreciate Adam Gwon's musical about life in small town America in 1996. Matt Rodin stars as Ricky Alleman, a closeted math teacher new to the area.
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