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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.
Seven Deadly Sins is neither immersive nor interactive, strictly speaking. Call it experiential event theater.
After undergoing a temperature check and picking up wristbands at the Colony Theatre box office, theatergoers head west across Lenox Avenue to a pop-up, open-air bar called Purgatory, at the center of the 1100 block.
There, under the stars, with celestial white lights, devilish red ones, and burning tiki torches decorating the space, singer Kareema Khouri and keyboard player/musical director Wilkie Ferguson kick things off with theme-appropriate numbers such as “Sinner Man” and “Fever.” The passion driving her singing and his playing underscores the joy of performers and audiences reunited.