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Why is Omari such an angry young man? A lesser playwright would offer a buzzword equation. White privilege + systemic racism = Black rage. Morisseau doesn’t. Her play doesn’t even define “pipeline.” You either know it, or you get it.
Morisseau’s characters feel like real people. But they’re larger-than-life and burn far brighter. It’s the difference between a flashlight and a laser beam.
L. Peter Callender’s direction honors the playwright’s hyper-reality. His approach to dialogue and physicalization seem natural, never stagey. But he doesn’t shy away from the white-hot intensity of the play’s brightest and darkest moments. When it’s time to go big, he doesn’t play it small. The actors don’t, either.