NEW YORK, NY.- Dont be fooled by the scaffolding that wraps around the exterior of the Booth Theater, doing its dour best to look uninviting. Inside is a Broadway homecoming celebration that you will not want to miss: the triumphant return of Ntozake Shanges For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow Is Enuf to the stage where it was a hit in 1976.
Triumphant, that is, because director-choreographer Camille A. Browns thrilling and exuberant revival breathes warm, kinetic life into a canonical work that has been known to suffer from being treated as it was at the Public Theater two seasons back with a well intended but stifling reverence.
Browns staging is so attuned to the words and cadences of Shanges choreopoem, yet so confident in its own interpretive vision, that the characters blossom into their full vibrancy. If youve never thought of For Colored Girls as a funny show, be prepared for Browns seven splendid performers to persuade you otherwise. They will also pierce your heart, because this production does not shy from the emotional and existential lows that coexist with the plays highs.
Yet this sensual revival leads with joy and, in its opening moments, with the voice of Shange, who died in 2018. First we hear the recorded squeals and shrieks of children at play. Then, piped over them, Shange, framing with gentle affection what is to come. Apparently speaking to a child, she asks her to imagine all the stories we could tell about little colored girls just like herself.
Mind you, For Colored Girls is not aimed at small fry; its collection of verse monologues contains plenty of talk of grown-up sex, physical violence and emotional trauma. With characters named for the colors of the rainbow (and costumed accordingly here by Sarafina Bush), it has always been a love letter of sorts to Black girls and the women they become, and to the sustaining power of female friendships, from childhood on.
And so Brown builds echoes of playground games, with their body language of youthful delight, into some of the dance and song. Periodically, we also hear the lub-dub of a heartbeat. (Sound design is by Justin Ellington.)
This revival, of which the Public is a producer, is a descendant of the Publics 2019 staging directed by Leah C. Gardiner, which Brown choreographed. With some of the same artistic team as the current production, it also had a few of the same cast members, among them Alexandria Wailes as the graceful, ASL-signing Lady in Purple. Browns production is completely new, but it is shocking nonetheless how much fresher, and more of a whole, her invigorated iteration feels and how beautifully it manages to embrace the audience, even from a proscenium stage in a considerably larger house.
The simplicity of Myung Hee Chos screen-based set abetted by Aaron Rhynes color-saturated projections and Jiyoun Changs lighting puts the focus on Shanges language and Browns choreography. Martha Redbone and Aaron Whitbys rhythm-driven original music complements but never overwhelms; conducted by Deah Love Harriott, its played by a three-piece band (drums, electric keyboard, electric bass).
The shows movement has a fluid freedom that reminds me of a Shange line about a long-ago Sun Ra show in Dance We Do: A Poet Explores Black Dance, her posthumously published book: The drummers made me wanna take off my clothes and celebrate the world. Thats how much Shange lived in her body, and so do the women in these poems.
While no actor takes off her clothes in For Colored Girls, Brown (whom Shange interviewed for that book, by the way) has a tactile, from-the-inside-out understanding of how motion is embedded in the plays language, inextricably. And as meticulous as Brown is about choreography and connection replaced by stillness and isolation in the plays poems of anguish, to devastating effect she is just as precise about textual lucidity and depth.
That includes the comedy, as when Tendayi Kuumbas Lady in Brown slips into the character of a bookish Black 8-year-old who, in the summer of 1955, conjures an imaginary friend: Haitian revolutionary Toussaint LOuverture.
Its a brilliantly funny interlude, and a reminder that this child bursting as she is with intelligence and particularity, and already in search of kindred spirits deserves the world. That the world does not cherish her as it ought to is one of Shanges main points about all of the women in For Colored Girls. Thus the plays enduring function as a source of solace, affirmation and commiseration.
When the Lady in Red (Kenita R. Miller, eight months pregnant and resplendent in a peekaboo-belly wrap) tells a male lover who does not deserve her, I am ending this affair, her itemized grievances have us thoroughly on her side and then she lands a terrific punchline. These actors, all of them, are hilarious at deflating male posturing.
Still, For Colored Girls aches with the tension between the longing for devotion, the desire for sex and the need for dignity. Also the precariousness of preserving a sense of self as the chagrined Lady in Green (Okwui Okpokwasili) discovers, courtesy of a lover I made too much room for.
These women who include the Lady in Yellow (D. Woods), the Lady in Blue (Stacey Sargeant) and the Lady in Orange (Amara Granderson) do not have great luck with men, and Shange caught plenty of flak from Black men who did not like the way she portrayed them. She objected to their objection, and noted: For Colored Girls was and is for colored girls. (That means Shange didnt write it for me, either, I realize.)
The dire grimness of one of its longest poems, about a violent, drug-addicted Black veteran named Beau Willie Brown, attracted criticism, too; George C. Wolfe satirized it in his 1986 play The Colored Museum.
But Shange also said: I am not a sociologist. These are writings about feelings.
For Colored Girls is an assertion of the right to own all of the feelings and all of the colors of experience. It pulses and pulses with life, singing a Black girls song.
And in Browns sublime and supple channeling, we hear Shange with exquisite clarity.
'For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow Is Enuf'
Through Aug. 14 at the Booth Theater, Manhattan; forcoloredgirlsbway.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes.
This article originally appeared in
The New York Times.