The curtain comes up on "A Raisin in the Sun" as dawn breaks over one dilapidated and roach?infested Chicago apartment, home to the Younger family for decades. The early morning introduces three generations of Youngers awaiting a life insurance check for a whopping $10,000, the result of recently deceased family patriarch Big Walter's lifetime of work. Stripped down, "A Raisin in the Sun" tells the story of an African?American family struggling against poverty and racism in the quest for its own piece of the American dream.
While Lorraine Hansberry's 1959 work is recognized as a masterpiece that embodies and transcends its time, The Huntington's recent production of "A Raisin in the Sun" falls short of its own potential. Almost exactly one year after Trayvon Martin's tragic killing, sophisticated audiences should be well aware that racism is far from last century's problem. Though in many ways current events make "A Raisin in the Sun" a timely and poignant choice, given the complicated issues to which it speaks, any possible relevance of the work to modern?day America is left largely unexplored by this production. More disappointing is the fact that director Liesl Tommy fails to convey any cohesive vision for the production.
This disconcerting fact first arises upon seeing the set. On a rotating platform sits the skeleton of the apartment: simple gray slats spaced apart suggesting walls, allowing the audience to see through from room to room. The sight is eerie, almost haunted?looking, yet beautiful - but it fails to enhance the meaning of the production. In fact, the sparseness of the set does not jive with the fullness of the dialogue and the richness of theme and characterization at the heart of "Raisin."
Unfortunately, this lack of creative control extends to the portrayal of key character Walter Lee, played by LeRoy McClain. As a young man and would?be entrepreneur of the family, he is at moments passionate, hopeful and heartbreaking. At the epicenter of the action, Walter Lee is a deeply sympathetic figure, yet LeRoy McClain's development of the character is shaky at best.
During crucial scenes, McClain oscillates between violent fury and depressive melancholy. Neither dramatic interpretation is wrong. In fact, any nuanced reading of "Raisin" is likely to find both profound anger and sadness at the center of the family's travails. However, it takes a highly skilled artist, or group of artists, to communicate such complexity to the audience without confusion. McClain's abrupt emotional switches lack clear creative choices to drive them, making his performance hard to follow and leaving the audience with a bad case of emotional whiplash.
Female cast members Ashley Everage, Keona Welch and Kimberly Scott, who play Ruth, Beneatha and Lena Younger, respectively, each deliver solid performances and a few funny lines. While none of the three really stands out as a star, the brief moments - and some longer episodes from Welch - of humor are welcome respites from the otherwise oppressive drama. The best of these moments derive from Beneatha's unexpected opinions of men, her overwhelming desire to learn about Africa and her constant attempts to "express herself."
Then there are the moments that go beyond funny, instead becoming complicated, even bizarre. Take, for instance, a moment when siblings Beneatha and Walter Lee engage in a make?believe tribal dance, chanting and stamping to the beat of drums only they can hear. Somewhere between humorous and horrific, this scene was received in silence from the audience, but is one moment when the production does succeed. The hushed and uncomfortable suspicion that it's not so funny anymore leaves the moment open to audience members, allowing them the opportunity to consider the true meaning, the substance of the play, all on their own.
