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Karamu première is satiric riff on mortality
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Reviewed by: FRAN HELLER Contributing Writer
Death. Taxes. You can’t avoid either of them.
It’s a truism the undertaker reminds us of at the outset in Gregory S. Carr’s mildly entertaining riff on mortality, “A Colored Funeral.” The world première is at Karamu Performing Arts Theater through May 6.
The play is really a collection of skits, comedic and poignant, that look at death-related issues through the lens of the African-American community. Although the focus on health, society and ritual is from a black perspective, there are nuggets of wisdom for everyone.
Playing multiple roles, all the actors acquit themselves well under the thoughtful direction of Christopher Johnston.
For starters, there are too many vignettes (20), not all of equal weight and satiric bite. The numerous scene changes grind the pace to an excruciating halt at times, further impeded by an equal number of wardrobe changes by the hardworking five-member ensemble. That said, Harold Crawford’s cavalcade of costumes is heavenly.
The play was inspired by an obituary page in a 1957 newspaper in Henderson, Ky., where playwright Carr was doing genealogical research for his family tree. He noticed that the obituary section was segregated, with a listing of white funerals and deaths at the top of the page, and at the bottom, a colored funeral (that of his grandmother); hence the title.
Another source of inspiration was George C. Wolfe’s “The Colored Museum” (a much better and funnier play), which also puts black stereotypes under the microscope. Wolfe’s landmark satire has inspired many black playwrights to poke fun at themselves, including Karini Marcia Leslie, whose satire, “The Trial of One Short-Sighted Black Woman Vs. Mammy Louise and Safreeta Mae” was recently presented at Karamu.
“A Colored Funeral” was winner of Karamu’s Festival of New Works in 2005 and was presented as a staged reading at the inaugural FusionFest at The Cleveland Play House in 2006.
All the sketches take place on “the other side”; the main characters have already died, and these are the stories of their demise. Their funerals serve as a wake-up call to the living. The play tends to be heavy-handed, but sincere in its intentions to educate the audience about issues of great import to the black community.
The setting is a funeral parlor where Underwood the undertaker (a suitably somber Jerome Anderson) challenges the audience to determine whether they have lived right or lived wrong. Richard H. Morris Jr.’s mortuary setting includes a coffin that rolls on and off the stage as needed.
“A Colored Funeral” serves as a clarion call for greater health awareness in the black community. A sketch about HIV/AIDS touches upon denial, teenage sex, and having sex with more than one partner. A skit on high blood pressure adds a dose of humor along with the salt in Renee Matthews Jackson’s droll rendition of a woman forced to realize that the fatty meal she is cooking is for her own funeral. In a segment on heart disease, a stressed out nurse, waitress and hotel worker, all suffering from heart disease, are like walking time bombs.
The coffin morphs into a bar in “Here’s A Toast,” in which two seductresses, called Alcoholism and Nicotine, vie for their victim’s liver and lungs.
Another health issue the play spoofs is obesity featuring three overweight characters draped in muu-muus: Blue, Bland and Bertha (Jonathan Wray, Saidah Mitchell and Matthews Jackson). As they pig out on junk food, the trio blames being fat on an unhappy childhood and a grandmother who nursed their emotional pain with milk and cookies.
Domestic abuse is explored in “Catchin’ Hell.” “Death While Black” examines the thorny issue of racial profiling and police brutality in a way that is both humorous and shocking.
Gang violence is the focus of “The Shrine,” a touching scenario in which a little girl named Angel is the victim of a drive-by shooting. Katrice Monee Headd portrays the uncomprehending dead child with a mixture of sweetness and innocence. A chorus of children’s voices (sound design by Morris Jr.) adds to the scene’s heartbreak.
Anderson plays an Iraqi soldier who comes home in a coffin and writes one last letter to his weeping mother in “A Gulf Between Us.” The letter serves as an undisguised criticism of the war.
A number of sketches function as an allegory of African-American history.
In the moving segment “The End of the Line,” a trio of swaying characters with nooses around their necks, describe the lynching incidents that took their lives.
The funniest vignette, “Rites of Passage,” focuses on death as ritual in which the solemnity of a funeral is turned into a revival meeting. Wray is terrific as the rabble rousing reverend who whips the mourners into frenzy, as each takes his place in front of the coffin. Without skipping a beat, Matthews Jackson turns a mother’s grief into a railing against a no good son who never gave her a dime. Headd is hilarious as the sister Shoutin’ and Anderson is perfect as the dimwitted brother Fluster.
At the end of the play, the mortician takes his leave with these parting words: “Ignorance is not bliss and no longer an option.” The viewer has been duly enlightened and amused at the same time.
Karamu Performing Arts Theater is at 2355 E.89th St., Cleveland. Tickets: 216-795-7077, or, www.karamu.com.
Death. Taxes. You can’t avoid either of them.
It’s a truism the undertaker reminds us of at the outset in Gregory S. Carr’s mildly entertaining riff on mortality, “A Colored Funeral.” The world première is at Karamu Performing Arts Theater through May 6.
The play is really a collection of skits, comedic and poignant, that look at death-related issues through the lens of the African-American community. Although the focus on health, society and ritual is from a black perspective, there are nuggets of wisdom for everyone.
Playing multiple roles, all the actors acquit themselves well under the thoughtful direction of Christopher Johnston.
For starters, there are too many vignettes (20), not all of equal weight and satiric bite. The numerous scene changes grind the pace to an excruciating halt at times, further impeded by an equal number of wardrobe changes by the hardworking five-member ensemble. That said, Harold Crawford’s cavalcade of costumes is heavenly.
The play was inspired by an obituary page in a 1957 newspaper in Henderson, Ky., where playwright Carr was doing genealogical research for his family tree. He noticed that the obituary section was segregated, with a listing of white funerals and deaths at the top of the page, and at the bottom, a colored funeral (that of his grandmother); hence the title.
Another source of inspiration was George C. Wolfe’s “The Colored Museum” (a much better and funnier play), which also puts black stereotypes under the microscope. Wolfe’s landmark satire has inspired many black playwrights to poke fun at themselves, including Karini Marcia Leslie, whose satire, “The Trial of One Short-Sighted Black Woman Vs. Mammy Louise and Safreeta Mae” was recently presented at Karamu.
“A Colored Funeral” was winner of Karamu’s Festival of New Works in 2005 and was presented as a staged reading at the inaugural FusionFest at The Cleveland Play House in 2006.
All the sketches take place on “the other side”; the main characters have already died, and these are the stories of their demise. Their funerals serve as a wake-up call to the living. The play tends to be heavy-handed, but sincere in its intentions to educate the audience about issues of great import to the black community.
The setting is a funeral parlor where Underwood the undertaker (a suitably somber Jerome Anderson) challenges the audience to determine whether they have lived right or lived wrong. Richard H. Morris Jr.’s mortuary setting includes a coffin that rolls on and off the stage as needed.
“A Colored Funeral” serves as a clarion call for greater health awareness in the black community. A sketch about HIV/AIDS touches upon denial, teenage sex, and having sex with more than one partner. A skit on high blood pressure adds a dose of humor along with the salt in Renee Matthews Jackson’s droll rendition of a woman forced to realize that the fatty meal she is cooking is for her own funeral. In a segment on heart disease, a stressed out nurse, waitress and hotel worker, all suffering from heart disease, are like walking time bombs.
The coffin morphs into a bar in “Here’s A Toast,” in which two seductresses, called Alcoholism and Nicotine, vie for their victim’s liver and lungs.
Another health issue the play spoofs is obesity featuring three overweight characters draped in muu-muus: Blue, Bland and Bertha (Jonathan Wray, Saidah Mitchell and Matthews Jackson). As they pig out on junk food, the trio blames being fat on an unhappy childhood and a grandmother who nursed their emotional pain with milk and cookies.
Domestic abuse is explored in “Catchin’ Hell.” “Death While Black” examines the thorny issue of racial profiling and police brutality in a way that is both humorous and shocking.
Gang violence is the focus of “The Shrine,” a touching scenario in which a little girl named Angel is the victim of a drive-by shooting. Katrice Monee Headd portrays the uncomprehending dead child with a mixture of sweetness and innocence. A chorus of children’s voices (sound design by Morris Jr.) adds to the scene’s heartbreak.
Anderson plays an Iraqi soldier who comes home in a coffin and writes one last letter to his weeping mother in “A Gulf Between Us.” The letter serves as an undisguised criticism of the war.
A number of sketches function as an allegory of African-American history.
In the moving segment “The End of the Line,” a trio of swaying characters with nooses around their necks, describe the lynching incidents that took their lives.
The funniest vignette, “Rites of Passage,” focuses on death as ritual in which the solemnity of a funeral is turned into a revival meeting. Wray is terrific as the rabble rousing reverend who whips the mourners into frenzy, as each takes his place in front of the coffin. Without skipping a beat, Matthews Jackson turns a mother’s grief into a railing against a no good son who never gave her a dime. Headd is hilarious as the sister Shoutin’ and Anderson is perfect as the dimwitted brother Fluster.
At the end of the play, the mortician takes his leave with these parting words: “Ignorance is not bliss and no longer an option.” The viewer has been duly enlightened and amused at the same time.
Karamu Performing Arts Theater is at 2355 E.89th St., Cleveland. Tickets: 216-795-7077, or, www.karamu.com.
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