Review - Hurt Village

Last night, I went with a co-worker to see Katori Hall’s new play Hurt Village at the happening new Signature space.  I think this particular theater, which is called The Linney, is my favorite space there.  It’s more a black box, could be used in-the-round, though this production only seats on three sides (but the action takes place all around).  It’s the perfect space for this play, I think, because you really need to feel inside of the locale to get inside the characters who live there.  The play takes place in Memphis, in a neighborhood they call the Hurt Village, which is a housing project that is scheduled for demolition.  At the top of the play, our main characters are getting ready to move to a more middle-class neighborhood elsewhere.  Their thwarted dreams of getting out of the projects are what drives the action.

You may remember I saw Katori’s other play in NY this season, The Mountaintop, and enjoyed bits and pieces of it, but didn’t really think it worked on the whole.  I have to admit I feel mainly the same way about Hurt Village, though I think I preferred this play to Mountaintop as a play.  But, as a theatrical experience, I think I respected it more than I enjoyed it.  Of course, my enjoyment may not have been her first concern.  J    I feel like a lot of it is terrifically exciting and pulsing, but it still feels a little surface-y and on the nose in places to me.  There are too many scenes which say the same thing, and that keeps the energy from continually moving forward.  I also think it’s directed at such a high and frenetic pace that it’s practically impossible to be pulled in emotionally.  It may have been directed that way to provide the forward motion that’s missing in the script and I do realize that the desperate situations these characters are in can justify the volume, but at the same time, a variance in the scale of what the actors are doing could go a long way.

The dialogue, however, is strong and you really get a sense of who these people are by how they talk.  I will admit that the scenes with rapping were hard for me to understand the dialect, though Joey says it was spot-on (he’s lived in Memphis).  And the casual use of the f-word and the n-word, though completely understandable in the context of this play, has a battering quality that numbs you.  And maybe that’s the purpose of it.  I don’t know.

The actors are all terrific, especially our lead gal, Joaquina Kalukango.  She plays 13-year-old Cookie, who is trying to figure out her place in the world.  She captures all of the uncertainty and bravado of youth brilliantly.  Marsha Stephanie Blake as her mother is very moving as a recovering addict, jealous of the daughter who is leaving her behind, though I’m not sure the character quite earned her beautiful monologue in the second act (but the actress delivers it exquisitely).  Tonya Pinkins plays the great-grandmother and is her usual terrific self, though, again, bringing it down a little might not be such a bad idea.  I had a hard time understanding her screaming at a few points in the beginning of the play.  However, her monologue in the second act was devastatingly heartbreaking.  Saycon Sengbloh as the frenemy neighbor was a riot at the start and more layered and interesting by the end.

I think the female characters appear to more advantage than the gents, who seem to be less complicated and more ‘types’.  But the actors are just as committed and strong.  It was nice to see one of my longtime favorites, Ron Cephas Jones, bring many layers and subtleties to what could be a stereotypical drug dealer kingpin role.

So, I guess I would sum with I think Katori Hall is a writer to keep an eye on, though I haven’t been completely sold on the first two plays of hers that I’ve seen.  But, unlike other writers I could name, I think there’s something of interest in what she’s doing and she’s at least striving to say something of value.  In my opinion, of course.  Your mileage may vary.

**five years ago, I saw Spalding Gray: Stories Left to Tell and King Lear (starring Kevin Kline); three years ago:  Happiness, by my hero John Weidman and, oh, some other guys...; two years ago: Kia Corthron's A Cool Dip in the Barren Saharan Crick; last year: Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (the first show after the looooooong surgical break).  I think I need to figure out how to archive stuff...