Once in a very blue moon, the N-word is like a chef’s kiss.
But don’t blame a frequent theatergoer for saluting the apt, well-contextualized usage of a slur that many argue should never be uttered. The responsibility, if you will, goes to director Lou Bellamy and his stellar collaborators on Penumbra Theatre’s “Wine in the Wilderness.”
Through refined artistry, they’re showing how off-kilter mess can be turned into revelatory, essential art in their production of Alice Childress’ play of manners, which runs through March 17 at the St. Paul playhouse. The must-see show also is Exhibit A of the manifest gifts of Nubia Monks, whose excellent lead performance includes a hootilicious showstopping monologue.
“Wine” is set in 1964 Harlem racked by a riot. After seeking refuge in a bar because her apartment has burned, factory worker Tommy (Monks) is taken to the home of painter Bill Jameson (La’Tevin Alexander) by two of his friends. Writer Sonny-Man (Darrick Mosley) and social worker Cynthia (Vinecia Coleman) believe that Tommy, who is wearing mismatched clothes and an obvious wig, would be a perfect muse for the artist as he is completing a triptych on Black women and wants a model who they all agree is “unfeminine,” “vulgar” and “dumb.”
But Tommy thinks that she’s being set up romantically with Bill. When she finds out the truth, she squeaks the N-word like a doll poked in the stomach.
People have traditionally taken “Wine” to be a commentary on intra-racial class dynamics. There also are themes around Black male and female relations, as well as the struggle that Black women face adapting in a society that does not celebrate their authentic beauty and genius.
All of that comes through as Bill, Sonny-Man and Cynthia show disdain for Tommy and Oldtimer (James Craven), a vagabond who takes refuge in Bill’s place with his stash of riot goods.
Bellamy’s production goes beyond that gloss. He stages the action on Seitu Jones’ poetically jagged set lit sharply by Marcus Dilliard, and in a riot-tinged milieu evoked by Miko Simmons’ historic projections and Gregory Robinson’s alarm-infused sound score. The director finds metaphors in the play about the roles that Blacks inhabit in America, both in their own imaginations and in the larger consciousness.