When you read the following review of Candrice Jones’ pulsatingly good Flex, expertly directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz, keep this in mind. That’s if you aren’t a diehard WNBA fan and don’t already know about flex: The flex offense is a continuity offense in the sport of basketball. The flex offense uses a flex cut to give the shooter room for a layup or a jump shot from the high post, with the assistance of screening and passing.
It’s March 1998 in Plainnole, Arkansas, when Roe v. Wade has been in place for 25 years and no one is preoccupied with the thought of a future Supreme Court turning its back on stare decisis. The prominence of that now overturned civil rights decision comes into contention along with the rigorous daily play of a local women’s basketball team obsessed with winning an upcoming championship.
Team member April Jenkins (Brittany Bellizeare) is newly pregnant, which among other instances of solidarity, has the other four team members practicing as if they, too, are pregnant and showing. This is happening while Starra Jones (Erica Matthews), who never misses dunking the ball from wherever she shoots it (she’s that unbelievably consistent), has plotted a way to sideline her prime competitor for college recruitment, Sidney Brown (Tamera Tomakili). She’s figured a nasty way to bring about another side-lining pregnancy.
Religious team member Cherise Howard (Ciara Monique) and Donna Cunningham (Renita Lewis), who has future plans that don’t include basketball, also get caught up in the ensuing drama that Coach Francine Pace (Christiana Clark), herself a former player, must moderate—and does with notable diplomacy.
Do coach and team prevail when they finally reach the championship event? That won’t, of course, be slamdunked here, although it may be the only minor flaw in the irresistible proceedings. It’s enough to say there’s no jaw-dropping blackout surprise. What’s truly important in Flex is the emphasis on teamwork on and off the court.
Just say flexibility is what’s required, all of it taking place on a Matt Saunders half-court set stretching from a corrugated metal barn-like wall with doors parting every so often for a car in several parts to be rolled out for the teammates to gad about in while joking, arguing, and singing from the 1998 rap charts.
The feisty women respect and love each other when literal and figurative push comes to shove. (The word in this context is often “foul.”) Love must prevail when Starra is exposed for her low blow at Sidney’s chances, and she’s finally forced to come clean about the mean maneuver.
Love must prevail when April, intent on not being benched due to pregnancy, decides her only alternative is to have an abortion. She becomes even more determined when Coach Pace utters her, uh, inflexible verdict. (Were Flex taking place in 2023 rather than 1998 and under current Arkansas law, it would be an entirely different play, no question.) Love prevails when Cherise declares she will continue participating in the activities on the understanding that a group baptism takes place. It does, and she leads it. Love doesn’t quite prevail when Cherise’s crush on Donna ends amicably.
Excitingly, the action leads, after any number of hot conflicts, to a one-on-one competition between short, pugnacious Starra and tall, unflinching Sidney. For them, each convinced she’s the team’s best player, this is crucial court combat. Though there’s a foul or two, the outcome is an example of sportsmanship surely reflecting playwright Jones’ belief about the game. (Patrons might well be wondering if Jones, when completing her script, was thinking about Brittney Griner’s plight and triumphant return.)
Regarding teamplay, it must be said that this acting squad gives a rousing demonstration. Aside from convincing an audience that Bellizeare, Clark, Matthews, Monique, and Tomakili could win any tournament they might enter with the flex skills they’ve sharpened, they have a firm grip on the characters they’re presenting – as director Blain-Cruz reveals she’s her own savvy coach.
At the performance I attended the ticket buyers behaved as if they were at a real game, cheering and clapping along. My guess is that every audience wise enough to collect at Lincoln Center’s Mitzi Newhouse will respond accordingly. They have every reason to. Flex – additional thanks to costumer Mika Eubanks, lighting designer Adam Honoré, and sound designer Palmer Hefferan – is a championship winner.
Flex opened July 20, 2023, at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater and runs through August 20. Tickets and information: lct.org
