4.5 stars — Finally, a play in August Wilson's Century Cycle that packs the same punch on the page that it surely must on the stage!
Reading the first two plays in this series left me wanting more, but this one left me breathless and reeling and tempted to re-read right away. Every scene, every interaction, every line of dialogue in this claustrophobic ensemble drama pulsates with wisdom and humor and barely repressed rage.
Set in Chicago in 1927 (apparently the only play in the series not set in Pittsburgh), this entire play takes place on the same chilly, late-winter afternoon in a small recording studio where the legendary Blues singer "Ma Rainey" (known as the "Mother of the Blues") meets up with her band (and a couple white producers) to record a new album.
Ma Rainey makes a flamboyant and magnetic appearance here as an independent Black female singer (what we'd no doubt call a "diva" today) shrewdly navigating the perks and limitations of "fame" for an African-American woman in 1927.
On the one hand, she wields the power of her popularity (i.e., huge profits for the white-owned record label) to preserve the artistic integrity of her music, indulge in a little nepotism for her comically unqualified nephew, keep a young, pretty (female) plaything at her side, and make shady white music producers grovel and beg at her feet.
But she's not naive about the fickle fragility of her fame either. She knows all too well that once her album is recorded and the paperwork signed, she's just another Black woman in America, unable to hail a cab or avoid harassment from racist police.
Despite her mesmerizing presence every time she appears on the stage, Ma Rainey is surprisingly enough more of a supporting, dare I say even "minor" character here. The real stars turn out to be the four men in her band.
Long, rambling stretches of this play consist of these characters joking around, swapping stories, philosophizing, and bruising each others' egos while they rehearse and wait for the recording session to start. The banter here is rich with the authentic rhythms of casual, everyday conversation, ranging from raunchy, laugh-out-loud humor, to deep and devastating pathos.
I'm always a fan of good, honest stories about interracial romance, friendship, allyship, etc. But it's so refreshing and urgently important for readers and audiences to experience the kinds of intimate, almost exclusively Black social spaces August Wilson shares with us here.
These are honest, difficult, sometimes even cruel conversations between Black men about what it means to be a man in the world, and more importantly, what it means to be a Black man pursuing the "American Dream" - conversations taking place with relatively little interruption or undue influence from anyone white in the room.
Although written decades earlier, this at times reminded me of One Night In Miami, the new movie (based on a play) directed by Regina King and now streaming on Amazon Prime, in the way it showcases similarly deep and intimate conversations between Black men in a private and uncensored social space.
All of these characters are distinct and interesting in their own ways, but it's the character of "Levee" who embodies the raw, wounded heart of this story. A young, hot-headed trumpet player with a tragic past, Levee aspires to follow in Ma Rainey's footsteps and achieve his own version of fame and success.
I don't want to spoil too much for those unfamiliar with the story, but Levee's almost unbearably intense and heartbreaking soliloquy near the end of Act One, and his delirious, rage-fueled rants against God and Christianity in Act Two, are among this play's most revelatory and haunting moments.
I can't wait to see what the late Chadwick Boseman did with this juicy role in his last screen appearance!
Updated 2/1/21: I’m bumping up my rating from a 4 to a 4.5 after seeing the fantastic Netflix adaptation, which beautifully brings this play to life and helped me appreciate its greatness even more.
Initial impressions: Ma Rainey wasn’t nearly as striking or memorable to me when reading the play, but my goodness, Viola Davis infuses EVERY....SINGLE....LINE....with so much power and magnetism and depth.
And the character of Levee, already so vibrant and heartbreaking on the page, is absolutely devastating as played by Chadwick Boseman in the final and arguably best performance of his career. The world lost such a bright and irreplaceable creative force when he died!