Theater review
“Two Trains Running”
Grade: B -
11 a.m. Feb. 20 and Feb. 27. 8 p.m. Wednesdays-Saturdays. 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. Through March 10. $15-$50. Southwest Arts Center, 915 New Hope Road, Atlanta. 1-877-725-8849, truecolorstheatre.org.
Bottom line: Solid but not stellar.
It would be tempting to zero in on the Hollywood mystique behind True Colors Theatre’s new production of August Wilson’s “Two Trains Running.”
After all, the piece is directed by LaTanya Richardson Jackson, the wife of film star Samuel L. Jackson, who showed up on opening night. And the role of Risa, the only woman in the ’60s installment of Wilson’s epic 10-play cycle, is played by Pauletta Washington, who is married to two-time Academy Award winner Denzel Washington. But in fact, these celebrity husbands and wives were treading the boards long before they became Oscar-night regulars, and they are well-versed in the Wilson canon.
Still, if you find yourself craning for a glimpse of a famous face in the crowd or mesmerized by the oddly fascinating choice of having an actress in her early 60s play what Wilson describes as a “young woman,” don’t be too hard on yourself.
Though “Two Trains” doubles as a political manifesto and an eloquent meditation on death, it can be rather static. As in Wilson’s “Jitney” and “Radio Golf”’ (which traffic in similar themes), characters come and go, and big ideas get tossed around in monumental speeches. Here, the denizens of a Pittsburgh cafe talk about the death of a neighborhood prophet, their bum luck and personal problems, and society’s indifference. They are on the cusp of radical change. But “Two Trains” rarely scales the Aeschylean heights of Wilson’s “King Hedley II” or musters the supernatural profundity of his “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone.”
While cafe proprietor Memphis (Michael Beasley) reflects on the days when his jukebox was a moneymaker and his kitchen couldn’t fry enough chicken, his neighborhood is all but disappearing around him. Sterling (E. Roger Mitchell) has just been sprung from the penitentiary and can’t find a job. Seen-it-all undertaker West (Ellis E. Williams) has buried his wife and appears to be approaching the end of the line. Wolf (a role originated by Samuel L. Jackson and played here by Jahi Kearse) is stuck in his numbers-running groove, while Holloway (Basil Wallace) is resigned to playing the part of Hill District naysayer and gadfly. Risa — who speaks in a slow drawl and appears distracted by a lack of sleep or some dark, unspoken business offstage — is so used up that it’s all she can do to muster a pot of beans and some muffins for the cafe’s hungry patrons.
That leaves us with Hambone (Enoch King), a mentally unbalanced man who symbolically refuses to accept what the white man throws at him. Hambone’s story is that he painted a white store owner’s fence but never received the promised payment. So for almost 10 years, he’s been uttering the same two phrases over and over again: “He gonna give me my ham. I want my ham.” Hambone is the essential Wilsonian clown, a comic character who is transfigured by tragedy, and King’s performance is magnificent and heartbreaking.
While Kearse and Mitchell deliver solid performances, too often this show feels listless and uninspired. Washington’s take on Risa, a woman who is tired but by no means defeated, is beguiling. In its languid and peculiar way, the performance works. Yet it saps the play of much-needed vitality. Williams and Wallace miss opportunities to connect with the material, and Beasley’s large stature doesn’t pack much charisma.
Moriah and Isabel Curley-Clay contribute a delightful approximation of Memphis’ down-and-out cafe, faithful to the letter to Wilson’s directions. How nice that costume designer Sydney Roberts doesn’t go all over-the-top with the period costumes. However, except for the music and the idea that a civil rights battle looms, this production doesn’t have much of a ’60s feel. All in all, it’s an admirable ride. But despite its starry pedigree, it never quite leaves sparks on the tracks.
