Having recently (and brilliantly) tackled rather thorny racial issues with his production of Appropriate, acclaimed theatre director Wesley Enoch now takes on one of the great works on the theme, Lorraine Hansberry’s landmark 1959 play, A Raisin in the Sun.
The original production was a watershed cultural moment, shattering the Broadway colour barrier – it was the first Broadway production written by a Black woman and the first directed by a Black man (Lloyd Richards). It brought Black audiences to the theatre in droves. The stupendous original cast, which included Sidney Poitier, Louis Gossett Jr, Ruby Dee, and Claudia McNeil, reprised their roles for a 1961 film adaptation that is now preserved in the United States National Film Registry due to its cultural significance. As a work of theatre, it is hallowed ground, and what impresses with this production is how skillfully Enoch and his team navigate it.
We’re in the South Side of Chicago in a run-down apartment with the Younger family, who are eagerly awaiting the delivery of a life insurance cheque following the death of the family patriarch. His widow, Lena (Gayle Samuels), is the direct beneficiary, but her son, Walter (Bert Labonte) wants to use the money to invest in a liquor store and quit his chauffeur gig. Lena would rather spend the money on a house for the family where young son Travis (Ibrahima Yade, with Gaius Nolan alternating) has room to grow. Walter’s wife Ruth (Zahra Newman, a stand-out performance) agrees. Walter’s sister, Beneatha (Angela Mahlatjie) could use the money for medical school, even as she struggles with her identity as a Black woman, a conundrum manifested in her suitors, “assimilationist” George (Leinad Walker) and Nigerian student Asagai (Adolphus Waylee). The possibility of buying a house in a white neighbourhood occurs – can the Youngers seize this tempting next run, or will racism keep them in the ghetto?
Enoch’s production threads the needle perfectly, feeling at once classical and of this moment in time. Racism and identity are perennial issues, but it is striking how hard a subplot where the pregnant Ruth considers an abortion hits given recent events in the US. The play was originally released at the height of the Civil Rights movement, and perhaps it is sobering to note how many anxieties are still with us – perhaps in altered form, but no less potent. There’s no barrier to engagement here – we connect with these characters, their milieu, and their relationships smoothly and effortlessly.
Enoch stages everything in a kind of theatrical widescreen with an eye for tableau. He carefully arranges his actors in the space in a way that doesn’t slow the action, yet still manages to invite us to pause and reflect on how these spatial relationships mirror the action and dynamics of the narrative. Designer Mel Page’s set, depicting the Younger’s dowdy two bedroom apartment, stretches across the stage and is open to the fly tower, the lights visible to the audience, creating a space that is simultaneously claustrophobic and vulnerable. We’re looking into the Youngers’ private space like a child looks into an ant farm. By and large it’s a fairly classical set up, but within that, Enoch has found room to stretch.
But what’s important to note is that A Raisin in the Sun isn’t just important, and it isn’t just good, it’s also fun. It’s easy to overlook how funny the play is. In the hands of a superbly gifted cast, Hansberry’s dialogue crackles and zings. Labonte and Newman are the MVPs, finding ribald humour and raw humanity often within the same line reading. The play is never a chore, or a duty – it’s an engrossing drama that never forgets to entertain us while it digs deep into uncomfortable territory. This is a fantastic production, breathing new life into an acknowledged classic in a way that is vibrant, compelling and, vitally, never precious.