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About
KPBS AIRDATE: October 28, 1992
The San Diego Rep has Spunk. And how. The pulsing, rhythmic, muscular adaptation of three Zora Neale Hurston stories has danced its way into the Lyceum Theatre. It’s a spare, eloquent, language-rich series of folk tales — black in hue but universal in tone.
Hurston was a cultural anthropologist who became a novelist, playwright and folklorist at the center of the Depression era’s Harlem literary renaissance. She died in 1960, poor and forgotten, until feminist writers rediscovered her in the seventies. In 1989, playwright George C. Wolfe, who created “The Colored Museum” and the libretto for the hugely popular Broadway musical, “Jelly’s Last Jam,” pulled together three searing stories from Hurston’s work, and “Spunk” was born.
These life-affirming tales are a testimony to love, endurance and the human spirit. There’s a dark undercurrent in each, but also a triumphant sense of survival. An abused woman gets her revenge. A couple of harassing males get their comeuppance. And a straying wife gets her husband back.
Atlanta-based guest director Thomas W. Jones has captured the essence of Hurston’s lyricism, and the sleek, stylized musicality of her stories. Music and dance are crucial to the production, and the bluesy jazz feeling completely transports you.
The cast of six is terrific: agile, versatile, humorous, and talented. Each plays multiple roles, sometimes narrating their own actions, always moving rhythmically with the lilting language. The voice of Ren Woods and the guitar and musical direction of Kevin Moore are hypnotic. April Grace moves effortlessly from abused washerwoman in “Sweat” to naive newlywed in “The Gilded Six-Bits.” Tom Byrd’s rubber limbs carry him gracefully from whip-wielding philanderer to “puffin’ and bluffin'” gigolo in the spoofy, high-energy “Story in Harlem Slang.” In this piece, he’s ably and attractively accompanied by zoot-suited buddies Brian Chandler and Osayande Baruti.
The tech work is clean and lean, in sleek service to the music and movement. The language sometimes gets more backgrounded than it should, especially since that’s Hurston’s greatest contribution. The rhythm and pace change too dramatically in the second act, slowing down to languorous in “The Gilded Six-Bits.” But like all good folk tales, there is something simple but profound here, something you don’t think but feel, deep in the pit of your belly. Everybody needs a little spunk. The Rep has got it — and you should catch it.
I’m Pat Launer, for KPBS radio.
©1992 Patté Productions Inc.
