Clybourne
Park
By
Bruce Norris
Race Up The Housing Ladder
It's
1959 and middle-aged Chicago couple Russ and Bev plan to sell their home in
middle-class Clybourne Park.
They have never met the couple to whom they are selling when their neighbour, Karl, arrives to tell them that the family is black. Will they please reconsider the sale, for if it goes through, bang goes the neighbourhood?
They have never met the couple to whom they are selling when their neighbour, Karl, arrives to tell them that the family is black. Will they please reconsider the sale, for if it goes through, bang goes the neighbourhood?
It's fifty years later and act two. Many of Clybourne Park’s houses
now have black owners. Yet Russ and Bev’s old house is again in the hands of a
white couple who want to rebuild on a larger scale and are forced to negotiate their plans, sullenly,
line by line, with their black neighbours.
That's
the plot outline without giving too much away for those readers who didn't see the
first UK production at The Royal Court Theatre in 2010.
For writer Bruce Norris is himself a past master in the art of withholding
information until we are clamouring for it. His playwright's trick is simple but effective. Just
when we are on the verge of a revelation - someone interrupts, with a delaying
witless conventional piety.
From
the opening moments, director Daniel Buckroyd's production from the Mercury Theatre in Colchester is both painful and achingly funny. The forced
jollity of Russ and Bev, as they try and squeeze what little life there is out
of some very poor jokes masks, we later learn, a deep-rooted grief.
As
Russ, Mark Womack gives an intelligent, carefully-judged performance supporting
Rebecca Manley's dominant Bev – desperate, brittle, over-the-top.
We
come to care about Bev and Russ, their courage and dignity in the face of hardship, despite our
recognition of their instinctive racism imbibed with their mother's milk.
Heartrendingly, Bev fails to comprehend the insult when she presses gifts on dignified and thoughtful couple, black maid Francine (Gloria Onitri) and husband Albert (Wole Sawyerr).
Heartrendingly, Bev fails to comprehend the insult when she presses gifts on dignified and thoughtful couple, black maid Francine (Gloria Onitri) and husband Albert (Wole Sawyerr).
“Ma’am,
we don’t want your things, we got our own things.”
“Well,
then, I don’t know what the world’s coming to.”
Meanwhile,
we could cheerfully throttle Ben Deery's hyperactive Karl every
time he explains laboriously how he has nothing against black people, doesn’t
believe they're inferior. It’s just that – oh, hell, you ever see a black
person skiing? That's enough proof for him black folks want to be different.
The
same cast re-emerge as a later generation of new characters in the second act.
Now Gloria Onitiri's Lena is fluent and sophisticated. She brings protracted jousting, as to what constitutes a racially offensive joke, to a crashing end with her own devastating quip, unrepeatable not only because it would be a spoiler, but also too shocking even for my own North London dinner parties!
Now Gloria Onitiri's Lena is fluent and sophisticated. She brings protracted jousting, as to what constitutes a racially offensive joke, to a crashing end with her own devastating quip, unrepeatable not only because it would be a spoiler, but also too shocking even for my own North London dinner parties!
Billed
as a drama about racism, it's more accurate to say it's one about race,
the relationship between races, burdened and hobbled by history. A marvellous play,
faultlessly performed. A green light and a recommendation to rush along and see
this production while you can.