Theatre in Review: My Children! My Africa! (Signature Theatre)

	James A. Williams, Allie Gallerani, and Stephen Tyrone Williams. Photo: Joan Marcus

"I think it is necessary for me to remind you what a debate is supposed to be," says Mr. M, the schoolteacher who presides over the action of My Children! My Africa! The statement is meant to quell a pair of students whose argument has broken down into chaos, but it is also a harbinger of things to come. The tension between a disciplined and dignified airing of opposing viewpoints and unfettered, destructive rage lies at the heart of Athol Fugard's drama, which uses its intimate, three-character setup to eloquently portray the struggle against apartheid slipping into a pool of blood. Here is a sterling example of what Signature Theatre's retrospective seasons can do for a playwright. Even with Fugard directing, and with unforgettable performances by John Kani and Courtney B. Vance, the original New York staging (in 1989) came across as a lumbering affair; it seemed top-heavy with exposition, failing to ignite until the second act. Thanks to the superb direction of Ruben Santiago-Hudson, the current staging makes a strong case that My Children! My Africa! is one of Fugard's finest works.

The debate that begins the play -- the question under discussion is the role of women in African society -- is being held at a black school in the Karoo, the inland area of South Africa that provides the setting for so many of Fugard's plays. Arguing for women is Isabel, a white student who is taking part in an intramural program intended to bring the races closer together. (It is described as "a chance for a pioneering intellectual exchange.") In Isabel's case, it is a stunning success; the child of upstanding middle-class parents -- "They even take the Marx Brothers seriously," she says, in despair -- she has grown up only dimly aware of the details of life in "the location," the ghetto where the town's black population has been mired in poverty. Now, at the age of 18, "I discovered a whole world," she says, adding that her ambitions are big ones. "I'm greedy," she notes. "I want more. I want as much as I can get."

Isabel's debating partner is Thami, a child of the location raised to be a symbol of promise. Cared for by relations -- his parents work in Cape Town but they want to spare their son the temptations of the city -- he has become Mr. M's star pupil. It's easy to see why; in his early debate scenes he radiates charm and stage presence in addition to considerable intellectual skill. "He is a born leader," says Mr. M, a self-described black Confucian who, despite his dissatisfaction with the third-class education offered to blacks, is determined to do better by his students. (Keeping with the debate format, Fugard assigns lengthy arias to his characters, in which each presents his or her viewpoint directly to the audience.) Even so, Mr. M understands that his plan is not without risks. Hope, he says, is "a dangerous animal for a black man to hold in his heart." Still, he says, "I feed young people to my hope." He also knows that time is of the essence: "The clocks are ticking; history has a strict timetable." He worries that South Africa will become "the country where everyone arrived too late."

Such fears are well-founded. Thami and Isabel hit it off and agree to team up for another competition, an English literature quiz. But, even as they cram the details of Lord Byron and the Brontë sisters, the clock of history is ticking relentlessly. Isabel soon discovers that Thami shows one face to Mr. M -- happy, engaged, ravenous for knowledge -- but reserves another, more private face for brooding on the hideous injustice of apartheid. The moment when Isabel invites Thami and Mr. M to tea at her house reveals new and heretofore unspoken levels of tension; Thami has joined a group advocating for armed struggle and cannot be seen socializing with whites. As for Mr. M, Thami tells us, "That classroom is a political reality in my life, and Mr. M has chosen to identify himself with it."

This triangular relationship provides an elegant stand-in for a country coming apart at the seams. Mr. M's hope for peaceful integration is largely a doomed one, yet he clings to it in the absence of any other approach. Isabel's well-intentioned liberalism is limited by her inability to imagine the depth of Thami's despair. And Thami's speeches offer a soul-wrenching look at life inside a system where violence seems the last viable option for obtaining justice. They're trapped in a deadlock, which will lead to terrible consequences. "If it was just you and me, it wouldn't be a problem," Thami tells Isabel, who hangs on to their friendship, unable to grasp that, in his new life, the simplest action has political consequences. (Language provides eloquent evidence of the failure of communication; what Isabel's family calls "the dreaded unrest" is termed "the beginning" by Thami.) It all comes to a head when Mr. M, driven by a mixture of fury, self-destructiveness, and a need to take a stand, makes a decision that will have devastating consequences for all.

Under Santiago-Hudson's direction, the lengthy first act, which seemed a bit leaden in the earlier production, now sparkles with fun and good humor, the darkness slipping in only gradually. James A. Williams turns Mr. M into a warm and powerfully avuncular presence, the kind of teacher who easily shapes the lives of his students; later, stripped of everything, he remains a formidable figure of defiance. (Facing the possibility of death, he says, scornfully, "My execution would be an embarrassment to the cause," and, in Williams' delivery, you feel the full weight of his moral authority.) The role of Isabel is a tricky one -- she's meant to be both an innocent yet wise and eloquent beyond her years -- but Allie Gallerani somehow reconciles these contradictions, making her both believably innocent yet capable of holding her own in arguments with Thami. The production's biggest revelation is Stephen Tyrone Williams as Thami. Thanks to his commanding presence and warmth you see why he is the standard-bearer for Mr. M's hopes, but there's a shattering rage lurking inside him even in his most benign moments. In his grand arias he makes palpable the crushing despair that drives him to a life of armed rebellion and Marxist discipline. Even when, in the final stretch, Fugard lets the action go on a little too long, letting every character have one final say, all three actors do not allow the intensity to flag.

Neil Patel's set design, with a tree struggling to grow in an environment of rusted, corrugated metal and barbed wire, adds to the feeling of authenticity, as do Karen Perry's costumes. Marcus Doshi's lighting bathes the action in sunlight in Act I, then turns darker and more chiaroscuro in Act II. Robert Kaplowitz's sound design mostly provides reinforcement for Bobby McFerrin's original music.

Some have wondered if Fugard's apartheid-era plays might be losing their power, but somehow the knowledge that South Africa's fate turned out very differently does nothing to diminish the terrible truths to be found in My Children! My Africa! Given the unrest in countries like Syria, its message of justice denied turning to murder seems all too current. In all such cases, Fugard says, the choice is ours -- the civilized clash of ideas and orderly change or bloodshed and the endless cycle of revenge. Which will we choose?--David Barbour