A family tree looms large in the story that Nia Akilah Robinson delivers in The Great Privation. Indeed, that actual tree stands near the center of the stage during every scene of Soho Rep’s production of Robinson’s new drama about Black heritage lost and recovered.
Opening Monday in its American premiere and subtitled (How to flip ten cents into a dollar), Robinson’s play parallels the times of two generations of African-American women, mothers and daughters, existing nearly 200 years apart. For the initial section of the play’s 100 minutes, what links the women hopes to be a mystery, so let’s not give away too much of the plot.
Oh, but a plot – as in a grave – is essential to this time-shifting drama. Its opening scene, set in 1832, discovers Mrs. Freeman (Crystal Lucas-Perry) and her 16-year-old child Charity (Clarissa Vickerie) alone one night in a cemetery confined to folks of color in Philadelphia. Her husband, a victim of cholera, was just buried by that tree. The well-spoken Mrs. Freeman is a free black woman residing in the Quaker state of Pennsylvania, and evidently a prosperous business owner. Charity is a strong-minded youngster who hopes to be a teacher. Neither wears mourning weeds but simply are clad in long gowns; the mother in green, Charity in pink.
A white man (Miles G. Jackson) arrives with a shovel. When the women quietly yet firmly send him away, it becomes clear that he is a medical student intending to exhume their loved one for dissection. Later he dispatches a black man (Holiday) to do the job. The corpse is of scientific interest because it was believed black people could not contract cholera. Freeman’s widow, supported by their child, intends to keep a vigil by the grave for three days – by which time his spirit will arrive at his Sierra Leone homeland, they say, and also when decomposition renders his body useless for study, they silently know.
Time jumps to the present for the next scene. While the tree and unmarked graves remain, this place is now a sleepaway summer camp for kids. Newcomers from Harlem with family roots in Philadelphia, Minnie (Lucas-Perry) and her teen daughter Charity (Vickerie) are employed as counselors with a twink-type queer chum (Jackson, hilarious in a bucket hat) supervised by an anxious boss (Holiday). Minnie and Charity respectively sport green and pink T-shirts. Supernatural doings eventually connect the past and present generations.
The playwright broaches troubling topics such as black individuals being used for medical experiments meant to improve the lives of white people; such as black men doing dirty work like grave-robbing for white men; such as men being paid better than women regardless of race; such as most people having little or no knowledge of their family histories regardless of race; and others. It is interesting to note how the contemporary white figure is comically depicted as a decadent, feckless individual in contrast to his sober-minded 1830s counterpart. A chat over the possibilities of heaven causes an unexpected vision of an “African Jesus” to materialize briefly, sporting a snazzy red suit, a fly hat and pricy shoes.
Much of the play is serious in nature, but just like that heavenly apparition, funny moments sporadically occur. Not all of the elements and themes of The Great Privation meld, nor does the patchy story conclude so much as simply stop when the characters inexplicably erupt into a Shabooya sort of roll call chant that blends into the actors’ bows. Although the playwright cannot (or perhaps chooses not to) tie together its myriad parts, The Great Privation retains interest as an ambitious if not always compelling work. For better or worse, the play represents the kind of challenging composition from a fresh voice that audiences expect from Soho Rep.
Relinquishing its longtime downtown space, Soho Rep has begun sharing quarters with Playwrights Horizons at its upstairs 99-seat Peter J. Sharp Theater, where The Great Privation is the first attraction in their temporary partnership. The space’s relatively low ceiling height lops off the grandeur of the tree designed by Mariana Sanchez, but she and lighting designer Marika Kent make its twisted trunk appear magical with colors as the story demands. While the chaotic supernatural sequence might be staged more effectively within the modest proscenium space, director Evren Odcikin is able to achieve a seemingly continuous rendition of an unevenly composed drama. With Odcikin’s guidance and dressed by designer Kara Harmon in clothes that gradually merge the time periods, four excellent actors provide natural performances that anchor the mystical story within an easy semblance of reality.
