By Chelsea Mortensen
The Lyric Repertory Theatre Company’s Clybourne Park is an astounding piece that couldn’t be more relevant, important, poignant and painful, opening this weekend at the Utah State University’s Black Box Theater. Clybourne Park by Bruce Norris This Pulitzer and Tony Award-winning play serves as a contemporary companion to Lorraine Hansbury’s A Raisin in the Sun. Act 1 takes place in 1959 with the white middle-class family about to sell their house to the Youngers, who are grappling with the community fallout over the news. Act 2 takes place in 2009 when the now-former Younger family home in a now predominantly African-American neighborhood is about to be demolished in the wake of impending gentrification. I was thrilled when I learned that both of these plays would be performed and share two of the same actors. If you do not take advantage of the opportunity to see both productions during your visit, you will be doing yourself a disfavor. Each play can stand on its one, but side-by-side the mirror image they hold up to our privilege-blindness makes a cutting antiseptic.
Paul Michael Sandberg’s Russ is the bedrock Act 1 is built on. He relishes his character’s rough edges from his prickly response to personal inquiries to his uninhibited rudeness once pushed to its limits. And yet he is impossible to hate. Sandberg keeps us hooked with his authentic pain and perceptiveness underneath that eventually has an amazing arc that is a joy to see.
Julia Hochner kicks off the performance as the bubbly, industrious Beverly. Hochner is very committed to her 1950/60s mannerisms, and do an excellent job of setting the audience on edge as her frantic pain and loneliness underneath is slowly revealed. This builds to the loveliest pay off at the very end of the act while she realizes that her own pain is a gateway into connecting with the communities she feels ostracized from.
Her busy attempts to keep everything in order and everyone happy bleeds perfectly into her Act 2 character as the gregarious and painfully ignorant lawyer Kathy.
Alaina Dunn’s Francine is socially aware of all the do’s and don’ts of her position as a black domestic helper, and it shows. This bold decision for Francine to be so ahead of her time and share so much of the audience’s perspective was validating for me to watch. Her Lena takes a journey from polite to combative that is as believable as it is uncomfortable to watch as she endures whitesplaining, grandstanding, and pathetic hypocrisy. By the time the scene reaches its climax, the audience is as indignant as she is.
Madison Kisst is brilliant as the two expecting mothers; the deaf, polite Betsy in Act 1 and the assertive Lindsey striving for political correctness in Act 2. When she first came onstage as Betsy, I was convinced they had hired a deaf actress to play the part. Although her character is often infantilized and herded into a corner, Kisst takes special care to give Betsy both the perceptive sense of humor and the learned helplessness that comes from being an ostracized member of society. Her Lindsey plows full steam ahead, fighting for her family’s interest, apologizing on behalf of her own racial discomfort, and painfully working to give examples of her “non-racism”. Because Kisst is unafraid to make her character relatable, not a caricature of failed “wokeness” but a relatable woman with a complicated relationship to her privilege, I felt my own white guilt come to the surface in the way I believe the playwright always intended. And I love her performance for that.
Jeremy Keith Hunter’s relaxed and powerful stage presence draws the audience’s attention from the moment he steps on stage. His different mannerisms between his composed, astute 1959 Albert and his relaxed, self-possessed 2009 Kevin are completely period appropriate while staying totally grounded. He infuses both with deliciously-discerning humor in the face of every cruel and racially-clumsy remark thrown in his direction. Most important of all, he makes a generous scene partner to that makes sure his fellow cast members keep up with him.
Toby Tropper easily has the two hardest roles in the show. Not only does he have a good chunk of the dialogue, but he has the tricky role of playing the most hated characters. Tropper does an excellent job of bringing the appropriate comedy, poor logic, and total insensitivity needed to bring the snobby Karl and the self-righteous Steve to life. Uncomfortable as it is to watch, it is completely believable. And the audience cannot bring themselves to look away, no matter how much he causes them to groan.
Kenny Bordieri’s diplomatic Pastor Jim sparks off the tension of the play by trying to get Sandberg’s Russ to open up, and quickly spends the rest of the play attempting damage control from everyone else. His youthful presence adds some much-needed comedic relief to the tense moments. His Tom, is sharp and uncompromising.
AJ Black makes a short-lived appearance that I would hate to spoil here, but it is as unforgettable as it is unsentimental in the best way possible.
Carey B Hanson’s costume design is delightfully articulate. When you go, pay close attention to the use of color, pattern, and silhouette to draw subtle parallels and contrasts between the characters in Act 1 and their counterparts in Act 2. It speaks volumes without being distracting. Sara Shouse’s hair and makeup design is completely compatible with this concept, manipulating the shape and texture of hair to embody the relationship between eras.
Watching the army of stagehands transition John Savage’s quaint suburban 60s home into an abandoned, demolition shell is like a performance itself, if you can hold your bladder during intermission to watch it. This will give you the opportunity to read the profound graffiti on the wall and consider how decay like this happens. Bruce Duerden’s lighting design highlights this change before your eyes so subtly they audience doesn’t even realize it’s happening. Getting into your seat early will also give you the opportunity to listen to Bryan Z Richard’s delightful song choices to lead into the different time periods of each acts, with lyrics that will make you sit up straight in your chair once you catch their parallels to the script. It’s also important to recognize the detailed relationship between Tapaynga Hill’s Act 1 and Act 2 props, one of which in particular will haunt you as the play comes to a close.
Also not to be left out are the fight choreographer Richie Call and American Sign Language Coach Cailen Fu. The sudden flares of violence in a play like this have to be precisely executed because they spend hours slowly rising under the surface. And once they rear their heads, they do not disappoint. Even to the trained eye, it looks and feels spontaneous without sacrificing the stage picture or character integrity. The American Sign Language is visible to the whole audience, which is crucial for hearing-impaired members of the audience and suited to each character’s fluency and personality.
Adrianne Moore crafts the stage picture with tension at the forefront. Plays like this that are built on long, tense conversations with everyone onstage can live and die on their pacing. This production stays alive with a vengeance. Rapid-fire line deliveries are as crisp as a paper cut. There is scarcely a moment to catch your breath as disagreements and social blunders get harder and harder to sweep under the rug. All of this together leads to a provocative denouement.
Lyric Rep’s Clybourne Park ends with a beautiful sight to see-a room full of white audience members giving a standing ovation to a play designed to prick our consciences. Leave your children at home and even your teens if you are squeamish about them hearing profanity. Nearly every cuss word makes a brief (but very powerfully placed) debut. But do bring any kids of yours that you want to share a meaningful conversation with before and afterward about race, political correctness, community, and the white shame. Come join the audience in Logan in the sacred discomfort that pushes us to change for the better.
Lyric Repertory Theatre presents Clybourne Park by Bruce Norris.
Utah State University Black Box Theatre, 700 North 1200 East Logan, UT 84321
June 29, July 4, 12, 18, 24, 27, August 2, 2019 7:30 PM.
Tickets: $25 Adult, $15 Student/Youth
Contact: lyricrep.org, 435-797-8022
Lyric Repertory Theatre Facebook Page
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