Divas don’t come any more high maintenance than the title character of playwright August Wilson’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Unyielding in her demands and prone to volatile outbursts at the slightest resistance, Ma Rainey would be insufferable were it not for her enormously gifted (and equally profitable) vocal ability. And yet Ma Rainey’s exacting stipulations, whether as sensible as approving her musical arrangements or as superfluous as having Coca-Cola on hand at every recording session, do not merely reflect an out of control ego. No, there’s a pragmatic rationale to Ma’s every demand, a justification sown under social oppression. Expressed through the cathartic essence of the blues, Penumbra Theatre Company’s production of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, now running at the Guthrie, provocatively uncovers the disfiguring scars of bigotry and racism.
August Wilson’s engrossing script follows one particularly chaotic recording session in the life of Ma Rainey, popularly known as the Mother of the Blues. As Ma Rainey’s white producer and white manager fret over the infamously unpredictable singer’s late arrival, the backing band passes the time with an initially easygoing banter that grows progressively tense. Three of the band members are musical journeymen, session players employed to follow direction. The fourth, however, is an outspoken trumpet player named Levee who nurses aspirations of artistic innovation. Fueled by his own impassioned vision of the blues, Levee stands in direct opposition to Ma Rainey’s uncompromising will, assuring a showdown that will make this recording session anything but harmonious.
A marvel of tuneful composition, director Lou Bellamy plays August Wilson’s script like the blues, steering the prevailing mood through each intuitively timed note. Much of the first act’s charm rests with a group of men shooting the breeze, only occasionally allowing a glimpse of deeper meaning. A conversation about shoes, for example, speaks volumes about these characters’ sense of position and pride. And these four men bust each other’s chops mercilessly, only pausing when the subject cuts too close to the bone. Wilson’s dialogue possesses a sculpture’s exactitude coupled with a poet’s sense of rhythm, molding an everyday vernacular to each character’s unique personality.
Speaking of personalities, Ma Rainey’s indomitable presence is felt even when she’s nowhere to be found. When she does barge into the studio, the entire theater seems to shake with the force of her resolve. Mesmerizing in the title role, Jevetta Steele projects the forceful aura of Ma, exploding like a powder keg of sheer emotion. Equally vital, Steele finds the quiet vulnerability at the core of Ma Rainey. Even with her revered voice (which Steele displays in transcendent fashion), Ma knows she can only rise so far, a fact Steele reflects with just a hint of apprehension during an early confrontation with a police officer.
While the action revolves around Ma Rainey’s recording session, the character of Levee steals much of the spotlight. True to the role, James T. Alfred’s performance is absolutely stunning, combining an arrogant bravado with a genuine longing to communicate something precious through his music. He is the genius player trapped by his own raging insecurities and society’s cruel indifference. Alfred sparks the energy of the script into electrifying tension, especially during his bracing confession of a childhood ordeal. With commanding power and emotional rawness, Alfred’s performance is an absolutely galvanizing tour de force.
Rotating around the gravitational forces of Ma Rainey and Levee, like circling satellite planets, is a robust supporting cast consisting of Lerea Carter (as the seductive Dussie Mae), Phil Kilbourne (as manager Irvin), Michael Tezla (as producer Sturdyvant), and Ahanti Young (as Ma’s stuttering nephew, Sylvester). Of all the strong supporting performances, however, it is the trio of William John Hall, Jr. (as bassist Slow Drag), James Craven (as trombonist Cutler), and Abdul Salaam El Razzac (as pianist Toledo) that contribute an enormous share of humor and humanity to the work.
The re-creation of a late 20s Chicago recording studio is rendered with immersive detail in Vicki Smith’s scenic design. Likewise, custom designer Mathew J. Lefebvre outfits the characters with an eye toward their respective outlooks, from the nondescript suits of Slow Drag, Cutler, and Toledo to the flamboyant styles of Levee and Ma Rainey. (Not to mention the attention grabbing flapper attire of Dussie Mae.)
Though Ma Rainey and Levee clash over control of the music, neither has an exclusive claim to ownership. As Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom so resoundingly demonstrates, the blues belong to anyone moved to feel deep emotion, a characteristic certain to include those fortunate enough to witness this remarkable production.
Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom runs through March 6th.
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