”Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” refers to the signature song of Ma Rainey, “Mother of the Blues.” She’s a singer in 1927 whose records have made big money and, in August Wilson’s only play set in Chicago, she still has power, if waning, against racists who exploit her. Her control sets her apart from the black musicians who accompany her and, like the white businessmen, depend on her. Only one young black aspires beyond his present role, and Wilson’s tragedy mainly follows him. As everyone waits for Ma Rainey to appear at a bare-bones studio, the musicians, cramped in downstairs, try to rehearse. Trombonist Cutler (Kenny Dozier, affable), who’s assumed leadership since he arranged the group at Ma’s request, is in his mid-50s like Slow Drag, Patric Robinson’s intelligent but easygoing bass. On piano, Toledo (likeable Henri Watkins) is the oldest and group’s sole reader. Though not always interpreting correctly what he reads, he’s given to philosophizing about it and the status of the African American. Last to join the musicians is trumpeter Robert Douglas’s Levee, imposing, though he’s their youngest. Having just won enough money to buy flashy new shoes, he nearly rages when Toledo accidentally steps on one. He can’t wait to form his own band and succeed playing his new type of music. He’s sure producer Sturdyvant (brusque Terry Wells) will buy his songs and record them after today’s session with Ma. Levee regards her as old school. The play veers into major conflicts between the older powerful characters, served by the dependent complacent ones, and the ambitious young. Levee isn’t the only such self-important youth, as shown when he tries to make out with Emerald Rose Sullivan’s pretty companion to Ma Rainey or her compliant nephew, Earley Dean’s right-on Sylvester. Ma Rainey (imposing Tarra Conner jones) reinforces her controlling power when she appears and makes all sorts of demands before she will sing. Stephen Emery’s Irvin, her obsequious white agent, struggles continually to mediate between her and producer Sturdyvant, while playing nice to all the blacks. A potent but overly long first act is saved by several points of suspense. Will Ma’s demands be met? Will she dominate Sylvester enough so that he’ll announce her song without stuttering? Will she sing the title song, and will it be recorded correctly? Will Levee get Emerald Rose to join him afterward? Most importantly, will Sturdyvant buy and record his songs and send him and his new music on to success? What will happen to Ma and to the older musicians? To director Chuck Smith’s credit, the actors differentiate their characters and handle Wilson’s distinctive dialogue well. Violent scenes are smoothly integrated into the action—not easy to do. The three-part set dictated by Wilson, the period perfect costumes (nothing sloppy), and well-coordinated sound (especially music that seems to be played rather than recorded) are a triumph for their designers. Anyone who’s looking for a musical may be disappointed, but staying for Act II should squelch that feeling. The play at WBTT is well worth seeing from the beginning until Robert Douglas brings it forcefully to its volatile end.
