Photo by Tim Fuller
Fifty years ago, when Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun made its Broadway debut, the country was struggling with a racial divide that kept the dream of economic liberty beyond the reach of an entire generation of African Americans. Ostensibly free to pursue the promise of a better life, African Americans were instead confined by a racist social order that enacted overwhelming barriers to fulfilling such aspirations. This societal hypocrisy was the subject of Harlem, a poem by Langston Hughes, in which the author asks, “What happens to a dream deferred? / Does it dry up / like a raisin in the sun?” That struggle to maintain hope against unremitting frustrations is brought boldly to life by the Penumbra Theatre’s poignant new production of A Raisin in the Sun now playing at the Guthrie Theater.
Set in a cramped 1950s era tenement, A Raisin in the Sun introduces us to the Younger family. Long accustomed to economic hardships, the Younger’s lifestyle promises to change dramatically when they receive a sizable inheritance from the death of the family’s patriarch. Widowed wife, Lena, plans to use the money to purchase a home, a dream she has harbored her entire life. Her adult son Walter Lee, however, is focused on using the money to open a liquor store, seeing in the investment a surefire means of delivering his family from a life of servitude. Walter Lee’s pregnant wife, Ruth, is torn between mother and son, respecting the wisdom of Lena but concerned over her husband’s increasingly embittered world view. Lena’s college bound daughter, Beneatha, is far too focused on her own aspirations to be overly concerned by her brother’s scheme. And Travis, the young son of Walter Lee and Ruth, is simply excited by the prospect of sleeping in his own bedroom instead of on the living room sofa.
Hansberry’s characterizations represent one of contemporary theater’s finest achievements in empathetically developed roles. These are relationships that the author clearly understood inside and out, depicting a family that wants the best for one another, but is conflicted by individual doubts and dissatisfactions. Though arguments are frequent, beneath the heated emotion is a core of familial affection. But although the family dynamic is so well written, it still takes an exceptionally talented cast to do the roles justice. Thankfully this production has found just such a qualified cast.
As Walter Lee, the father whose boastful bravado fails to conceal his miserably low sense of self-esteem, David Alan Anderson gives an utterly heartrending performance. From the estranged arguments with his wife, the affectingly gentle bedtime conversation with his son, the callous but loving teasing of his sister, and the childlike mixture of shame and petulance at disappointing his mother, David Alan Anderson nails every subtle nuance of the role. When Walter Lee stands upon a coffee table, pretending to be the dignified leader of an African tribe, the shift from lighthearted joking to despondent sadness is crushingly realized. And when Walter Lee demands to know who decides which women get to wear pearls while others must go without, Anderson imbues the character with such palpable frustration that it’s impossible to fully condemn his actions.
Anderson’s tremendous performance is well matched by the affecting work of Franchelle Steward Dorn as Lena, Erika LaVonn as Ruth, and Bakesta King as Beneatha. All three women bring out the richly detailed depths of their roles with touching conviction. Playing the family matriarch, Dorn carries a modest dignity that has nothing to do with financial wealth. As Ruth, LaVonn delivers a painfully felt portrayal of an exhausted wife and mother increasingly adrift from a spouse that seems to no longer have any interest in reconnecting. Rounding out the generations of females, King underscores Beneatha’s youth, both the idealism and selfishness, that stands to be tested by future tragedies.
Such exceptional performances are enhanced even further by a fully realized scenic design by Vicki Smith that visually reinforces the guiding principals of the Younger family, from the framed photo of Jesus on the wall to the folded quilts and blankets beside the sofa. This is a poor but dignified family, one whose home might lack material comforts, but is always clean and hospitable. More evidence of the Younger’s humble principals can be seen in the costume design of Matthew LeFabvre which uses period specific garments that are neither luxurious or shabby and that, while well-worn, remain meticulously wrinkle-free.
In the five decades since the premiere of A Raisin in the Sun, our country has made vast improvements toward ensuring that race no longer be a barrier to the opportunities afforded by talent, ambition, and effort - and yet the lingering prejudices of racism persist. Those prejudices, coupled with the devastating economic plummet that has cost a record numbers of Americans their jobs, homes, and life’s savings, could make a compelling argument that A Raisin in the Sun has never been more relevant. No matter what our race or background, we share a common belief that our humblest dreams - for ourselves and our families - stand a chance to come true. This production of A Raisin in the Sun connects with the core dignity of that fundamental belief, reflecting a life-affirming hope never more essential than in these troubling times.
A Raisin in the Sun runs through April 11th.
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