Fola (Jumoké Fashola) appears to be a comically busybody aunty, but she does bring a serious message about the dangers that could come with being a significant figure at a historical crossroads. The fact that their new neighbour Daniel (Sebastian Armesto) turns out to be a CIA agent is another sign that Joseph is on some shadowy people's radar.
Beneatha won't live in this house for long but the events of this first act will shape her whole life, and she'll return there 64 years later in the present day, as the symbolic location for a discussion with colleagues: Now a dean at a major university, it's been suggested that the African American Studies major be replaced with a course called Critical Whiteness. Armesto, Godwin and Gwynne play the almost entirely white racial studies faculty, who came up with and are likely to greenlight the plan.
Surely it's time for a revival of A Raisin In The Sun itself - I'd like to see it not only because it's so feted, but also since it seems to have inspired so many theatrical responses. It'd certainly be interesting to see if there’s a reason for the very similar structure of those responses – both this and Clybourne Park have two acts set decades apart in the same room, with the modern-day story seeing a heightened black vs white clash of words that relies heavily on the characters saying the unsayable. It’s used to more straight-faced effect here than in Bruce Norris’ play, although there’s still comic relief from some of the outrageous interactions and responses.
Parts of the play, particularly in the performances, sparkle, but there’s something flat to proceedings as a whole – sometimes literally, in the blocking that all too often lines up the characters along the stage to present their viewpoints. Skeete is always watchable, and from the front row I could notice the tracks of tears staining her cheeks, but that does also mean that for such a powerful character Beneatha’s role is oddly reactive: There’s always someone else holding centre stage when those tears actually fall. Momoh is also particularly good at differentiating between his characters – as Joseph he’s got a dangerously angry edge to him that clearly comes from fear, as junior academic Wale in the second act he’s much more understated as Beneatha’s plan unfolds around him.
The view from the front row also reveals a nice little touch to Debbie Duru’s set, which starts to flood with sand as time passes and Beneatha’s place falls into disrepair; but it’s so subtle I’m not sure how much further back you could sit and have any idea it was happening. I also wondered about Beneatha’s age – conservatively she’d have to be in her mid-eighties in the second act, still holding an important and high-profile academic role. I guess the last couple of Presidents have taught us that if there’s one quality Americans like in their leaders, it’s an unlikelihood of surviving their term, but it’s still distracting, not so much that she’d still be such a firebrand, but that she’d be allowed to carry so much on her shoulders. All in all Beneatha’s Place is worth the initial visit, but doesn’t have quite enough extra to reveal to earn a glowing TripAdvisor review.
Beneatha’s Place by Kwame Kweh-Armah is booking until the 5th of August at the Young Vic.
Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including interval.
Photo credit: Johan Persson.
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