Theatre in Review: Generations (Soho Rep)

	Thuli Dumakude Photo: Julieta Cervantes

The playwright Debbie Tucker Green isn't merely satisfied with creating a new work; she makes a world in which to contain it. Her last play seen at Soho Rep, Born Bad, explores a family situation where something terrible has happened, but what? By suppressing the details and leaving the characters with very few words with which to express themselves, she ratcheted up the tension level to almost unbearable heights, forcing us into a claustrophobic environment in which the truth proved elusive. At the same time, thanks to the characters' limited means of expression, a certain lack of development meant the play's overall effect was ultimately limited, even given its short 60-minute running time.

With her new piece, Generations, the stakes have increased all around. This time, Soho Rep's space has been stripped to the walls and reimagined as part of a South African township. The set designer, Arnulfo Maldonado, has covered the walls with corrugated metal and laid a thick coating of dirt on the floor. Shelves are filled with cooking tools, and food items, in plastic bags, are hung on the walls. In the center is a working stove. There is no conventional theatre seating; one sits where one can on chairs and benches that are scattered throughout the space. A chorus of 14 singers performs songs, in a recognizably South African style, by Bongi Duma. There is also a cast of seven -- all of this for a play that runs 30 minutes.

If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well, and every aspect of Generations is brilliantly realized, from the overall production design to the stunning vocals to performances that suggest so much more than the words the actors are given to say. We are in the presence of three generations of one family -- grandparents, mother and father, their son and daughter, and the son's girlfriend. The script is a kind of spoken chorus, each line delivered by different family members: "I coached her to cook." "I did... I was the cooker." "She was the cookless." "I was the cooker who coached the cookless." "I... coached her to (cook)... She was a bad learner." There is more, but it follows pretty much along these lines.

At first, with everyone taking part, the conversation seems to describe the son's wooing of his girlfriend, who initially proves resistant, then joyfully gives in. Whether they are discussing her or the boy's mother -- I wasn't always certain -- the lines create the impression that this close-knit family is happily reliving favorite stories as another generation prepares for marriage and children.

But that's not what happens. First, the daughter leaves, followed by the son and his girlfriend. Each departure is accompanied by a lowering of the room's ambient light wash and the lighting of lanterns, hanging on the walls. This is the production's way of signaling that these characters have died. Once again, the remaining generations replay the text, this time with much less exuberance, followed by further funereal departures until only the grandparents are left, musing over what the grandfather calls "this thing. This dying thing. This unease. This dis-ease."

There's no question that Generations has moments of great power. The music is gorgeous, the voices rattle the rafters, and the cast is both skilled and appealing, especially in the way they use the deliberately stripped-down text to suggest their interrelationships. And as darkness gradually falls, one feels the sorrow that comes with it, even as one is left to puzzle out the implications of why the generations are vanishing in reverse order. Is this a statement about the instability of life in the townships? The way that AIDS has ravaged South Africa? Or is Green after darker mysteries about the evanescence of human existence?

At the same time, even given the cast's abilities, only so much meaning can be extracted from repeating the same brief, banal statements over and over. And, as in Born Bad, as Generations acquires a certain force, it also fails to fully engage. In one certain respect, Generations is a weaker piece of work. Whatever its difficulties, Born Bad is a play, filled with conflict and tension. Generations isn't really drama -- it's a kind of highly theatricalized poetry, -- a mood piece -- and even given its short running time, it has its longeurs.

Still, the entire cast -- under the authoritative direction of Leah C. Gardiner -- manages to put considerable flesh onto the author's abstractions; I was particularly taken with Mamoudou Athie and Shyko Amos, as the son and his girlfriend, their wary courtship blossoming into a warm embrace. Also, Thuli Dumakude and Jonathan Peck, as the grandparents, end up in a tableau, huddling against the dark, that is almost worthy of Beckett. Matt Frey's superbly modulated lighting -- which makes extensive use of bounce light -- is a key contributor to the production's shifting moods. Ásta Bennie Hostetter's costumes feel as authentic as the set.

You have to appreciate the sheer daring with which Green creates such works; she has fantastic theatrical instincts, and she knows how to realize them on stage. But I'm beginning to wish she would loosen her characters' tongues just a bit. One feels certain that they have so much more to say.--David Barbour