It’s not often that theater audiences will come in contact with a world as bleak as the one portrayed in Dael Orlandersmith’s Yellowman. The two-actor play is set mostly in South Carolina, in a community where hierarchy among blacks is determined by the color of their skin. Alma, the female character, repeatedly tells the audience that she is “big, dark, and ugly.” Her mother first tells this phrase to her. She repeats it over and over until Alma begins reciting it in her own mind.
Her childhood friend and eventual love interest, Eugene, is much lighter-skinned. He is reminded of his own identity by his light-skinned mother, his much darker-skinned father, and a light-skinned grandfather he barely knew. Although Eugene insists repeatedly that “we are all black,” his message isn’t heard by anyone in his family, or by the various characters that inhabit this community. (These characters are also played by the two actors).
Orlandersmith’s play comes with an impressive pedigree. A Pulitzer Prize nominee, it was produced at the Manhattan Theater Club in 2002. Praised by New York Times theater critic Ben Brantley as “a hard and piercing drama about intraracial prejudice,” it nonetheless seems to be a road to nowhere.
The best part of the play is in the early scenes, when we are introduced to Alma. In a rhythmic cadence, she tells of the sights, sounds and smells surrounding her. She talks of her past, of the light-skinned blacks who were often assigned to household chores on plantations, and the “big, dark and ugly” women who toiled in the fields beside the men. They didn’t expect any love from these men, Alma says, and apparently they didn’t get any.
In the elementary schoolyard she befriends Eugene, a slightly older, bookish, light-skinned boy. He is grateful to be accepted by the younger Alma and some of her other dark-skinned friends. He learns to trust Alma, who becomes his confidante and eventually, his lover. They endure a separation after high school. Alma receives a full scholarship to a college in New York City, and Eugene goes to work for his father at Georgia-Pacific. His father has worked his way up to the position of lumber company foreman. This gives Eugene a taste of the “good life” (e.g., indoor plumbing) that most folks in the impoverished black community do not have. Unlike most of the community’s other blacks, their relative “wealth” allows them to live in a nice house within the city limits.
The actors who portray Alma and Eugene work brilliantly together. Erica Bradshaw captures all of Alma’s mirth as well as her frustration. She embodies the innocence of youth and, later, the stylish grace of a young woman who feels free – and even sexy – as she sways down the streets of New York.
Eugene’s character enjoys no such “liberation.” Berated by his father as a “failure” for having no firm plans after graduation, he visits Alma and tries to decipher whether outsiders really can get “New York fever.” As Eugene, Ryan Quinn communicates his character’s mixed feelings about life.
As the play progresses, however, the playwright presents more confusing scenes. Character development and general believability fall apart. Alma and Eugene each pursue different paths. Sometimes, their interactions fail to make sense, given their deep love for one another. Also, the conflict between father and son reaches a hideous climax at Eugene and Alma’s engagement party. Why is it that Eugene’s mother, too drunk to sit on a barstool, can attempt to physically separate Eugene from his father? When Alma returns home before the party, why does she start cleaning her mother’s filthy house instead of staying with a friend? If Eugene senses resentment on the part of his parents when his surprise inheritance is announced, why doesn’t he offer to share his windfall with them? These are just a few of the things that fail to make sense.
Director May Adrales fails to address these lapses, and things continue to get more muddied. By the end of the play, Yellowman seems more like a work-in-progress than a finished piece.
One of the most redeeming features of Yellowman is its wonderfully minimal set. Roughhewn rows of wood planks, set on different levels that intersect with each other, are strewn with sawdust (from the lumber mill, most likely). Areas of the planks are coated with spilled “tar,” perhaps to keep audiences visually aware of the distinction between light and dark that permeates this play. The lighting (by Gina Scherr) is another asset to the production.
