Weddings, funerals and class reunions have supplied authors with opportunities for dramatic conflict since the advent of lineage-based fiction. In Sounds So Sweet, the occasion precipitating the reunion of the Harrison clan in Ellisville, Mississippi, is the death of its beloved matriarch—but don't arrive expecting the sniffling, sobbing and keening associated with such ceremonies. The departed, it seems, was adamant in instructing her surviving kin to remember her, not with a gloomy memorial service but a "Going to Heaven" celebration—and since the descendents of Mrs. Ernestine Harrison ("Grandstine" to her children) encompass three generations of singers, that means an abundance of joyful noise.
First things first, however: Elder daughters Ruth and Marcia must deal with, respectively, disposal of a house filled with memories and some unfinished business with a former teenage crush. Granddaughter Melissa's husband wants a divorce, granddaughter Michelle drinks too much, and grandson Michael introduces his fiancée, whose complexion meets with the disapproval of granddaughter Ria. Only great-granddaughter Tiana, a student at Howard University, remains unperturbed by the troubles that beset her kin—complications shared by families of every social and economic level, and that we are glad to see resolved by the play's conclusion.
It's not all talk, of course. The offspring of the Harrison dynasty could no more keep from singing than they could stop breathing. The score spans some six decades of rhythm-and-blues and gospel, from the Dixie Cups' "Iko Iko" to TLC's "No Scrubs" with some side trips into other genres—lightning-fingered jazz guitar solos, a snippet of Andrews Sisters harmonies, an old-school/new school mash-up of the Supremes's "You Keep Me Hanging On" and Destiny's Child's "Survivor," a shy gentlemanly rendition of "You are So Beautiful" and a stirring foxtrot-tempo "You'll Never Walk Alone."
Black Ensemble Theater, in the last few years, has found itself caught between the proverbial rock and you-know-what—the former being playgoers impatient with scripted dialogue providing context for the nostalgic concert-style showcases, and the latter composed of critics demanding social significance beyond the microcosmic issues raised thereby. Writer-director Rueben D. Echoles' production appears well on the way to striking a balance amenable to both camps, though, making for a tidy two-and-a-half hours (with one intermission) of words and warbles, ending with all the characters content, if not precisely happy. Schadenfreude junkies can revel in intergenerational despair at Steppenwolf, but those of us advocating reconciliation over alienation heartily endorse the values reflected in this optimistic parable.
