Slow-burn staging of Lorraine Hansberry’s challenging second play
Unlike Lorraine Hansberry’s celebrated and often produced first play, A Raisin in the Sun, this one – her second – has not been staged in a leading New York theatre for 50 years. Anne Kauffman’s revival, with stars Oscar Isaac (seen in the films Ex Machina, Star Wars and Dune) and Rachel Brosnahan (from TV’s The Marvelous Mrs Maisel and House of Cards), gives us a rare look at Hansberry’s vision of bohemian politics, people and 1960s disillusion.
It’s a fascinating if challenging work, and Kauffman doesn’t always guide the audience firmly enough through the rigorous material. But her production does conclude with an effective emotional blowout.
Sidney Brustein (Isaac) is an activist who avoids choosing sides. After a spate of embarking on money-losing ventures, he undertakes to run a small newspaper. He gets lured into a political campaign by a friend running to unseat a long-time party boss, and the campaign sign boldly goes in Sidney’s window.
Sidney’s wife Iris (Brosnahan) is exhausted from working as a waitress and struggling with her acting career. The couple’s once snappy banter has morphed into something cruel and cutting; their relationship is on the brink. Sidney’s pal Alton (Julian De Niro), a light-skinned Black man, falls for Iris’ sister, but doesn’t know she is a call girl. Sidney and their neighbour David, a gay playwright (played at the performance reviewed by understudy Gregory Connors, covering for Glenn Fitzgerald) argue frequently over ideas.
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All of them appear to care about injustice, and each personally experiences some kind of societal mistreatment. But when their idealistic principles are tested, they frequently fail. Worse, they end up hurting or oppressing each other. That may be bleak, but there’s a delight in Hansberry’s work that comes from its nuanced characters, and her navigation of their ambivalence and tangled hypocrisies.
Isaac gives a layered performance with intentionally suspect surface charm. He slowly reveals a broken, fragile man who aches as much as his persistent ulcer. Isaac and Brosnahan play off each other well, bringing out the play’s humour. But while Brosnahan projects inner strength as Iris begins to stand on her own, she fumbles with the character’s immaturity. Miriam Silverman, as Iris’s square, racist, antisemitic sister Mavis, delivers an indelible turn – close-minded, yet also caring and filled with unexpected depth. As Alton, De Niro is unconvincing and seems ill at ease throughout.
The single set by New York City-based design collective dots authentically evokes the home of the cash-strapped Brusteins, with a postage-stamp kitchen and broken windows. But its realism serves the dreamlike, stylised moments less successfully.
Above all, it’s nice to see stars signing on to underappreciated, complicated plays such as this, even if this production offers only a glimpse of the strengths of this knotty work.
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