One Man’s Constellation Of Characters
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First: Go ahead and disregard the title of “Emergence-See!” Daniel Beaty’s one-man show is far, far better than its uninspiringly punny title would suggest. In fact,”Emergence-See”is such a rousing, bruising panoply of being black in New York that I spent a significant amount of post-show time thinking of a title that would better coax audience members into the Public Theater.
A constellation of characters revolve in New York, all familiar and some of them dear. There is Rodney, a slam poet rushing to get to his competition; his brother, a drifting sweetheart crushing on the hot guys in the park; a crusty panhandler cursing in a voice like a saw blade; a Harlem Boys Choir angel, and a little girl dancing under the Statue of Liberty. And rising up out of the Hudson is a 400-year-old slave ship full of bones and ghosts, silently pulling into port under Liberty’s upstretched arm.
When Rodney’s father, deranged by an old grief, swims out to the slave ship (“slave-ologists are calling it ‘Remembrance'”), the others all hold their breath. The public starts talking about the past again — for some it means broaching (re-broaching) reparations, for others it just means recalling a mother’s fragrant pound cake. But memories are being made flesh all over New York.
Aside from its tin-eared title, the piece has language on its side. Mr. Beatty’s slam poetry background exposes itself in swoops of lyricism, but the richer stuff never overstays its welcome. In fact, the text often works most confidently in his shortest strokes. Mr. Beatty has a pitch-perfect musical — even operatic — ear. Not only does he pepper the piece with lovely snatches of gospel and doo-wop, but he knows how to give himself bravura setpieces without interrupting his dramaturgical rhythm.
Navigating across designer Beowulf Boritt’s series of shipwrecked platforms, Mr. Beatty (as well as his director Kenny Leon) avoids the large gestures. When a cop pulls Rodney over, we see his flashing lights — but in general, the piece never stoops to literal representation. It’s economical and unpretentious at every turn.
Oddly, Mr. Leon’s recent Broadway project, August Wilson’s “Gem of the Ocean,” shares a central image with “Emergence-See!” In both, the haunting thought of bones paving the ocean floor, stretching in an undersea highway back to Africa, has taken on an inevitable, mythic weight.
Mr. Beatty treads ground that has already been well tamped down. Sarah Jones of “Bridge and Tunnel” is the best known of them, but New York is rife with solo performers who specialize in multicharacter community portraits. His many victories in the world of slam poetry also situates him comfortably in a familiar vein: Those swinging Def Comedy Jam cadences have wormed their way well into the popular consciousness. But Mr. Beatty, while keeping the form’s upbeat messages of selfhood front and center, is surprising because of his dramatic sympathy. He may always talk about being truthful to a self, but his real “truth” lies in his gracious negotiations between multiple, contradictory, messy — a very city of — selves.
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