The titled portals of The Dream Of Doors are metaphorical. They represent entrances to jobs, restaurants, neighborhoods in which to live, schools, even means of transportation, doors that were closed, mainly to African Americans, before and during their struggle for Civil Rights. Representative black people advance arguments for breaking the doors down violently vs. accepting limited entry or access vs. demanding forcefully but nonviolently that the doors open. The dream refers to community elder Ms. Brown's belief in a prophecy by an allegorical black Moses (in tattered garments and dreadlocks) that two major prophets will soon arise to defeat an allegorical Pharaoh (white, done up like an aging King Tut in business suit). Ms. Brown spreads the word to rebellious, rarin'-for-a-fight Bret, influential "Uncle Tom" Cheeks, and a young couple who are in love but divided on the matter of commitment to the cause. Paul just wants to be an opera singer, but Ginger urges him to be more committed to the cause of integration that will bring him opportunity. She also aspires to teach black students their history. One of the prophets who will "unlock the doors to racial harmony" is Rosa Parks. He who will "unite multitudes of Negroes" is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Brought to Sarasota for the King holiday, The Dream of Doors has been presented for three years at the Miller Outdoor Theater in Houston, Texas. Indeed, it has the marks of a pageant more than a traditional play or musical. The tradition it fits into is of inspirational theater presented in churches, especially African-American ones. As for the musical numbers, most are the show's highlights, worthy of any musical or revue. Scenery, consisting of big doors with a cityscape in back (left over, it would seem from a show set in New York) doesn't begin to suggest the South. A flash of red to introduce Pharoah typifies the crude lighting. Staging is as amateurish as the construction: dramatic scenes, often declamatory, on one side of the stage; on the other, rows of seats for chorus/dancers to sit and "comment" on proceedings or back the actors they face or swing around to the audience. The group rises in catchy syncopation to "Don't Get Up" when Rosa Parks joins their "bus" and they take over center in strike scenes. "Don't Ride the Bus" may be topical yet boasts universal spiritedness with appropriate lively movement.
A major contribution of the presentation is to prove the considerable amount of talent available in the African-American community but seldom showcased. Michael Kinsey's dynamic Bret delivers really soulful blues-rock. Chadwick Watkins puts a more balladic kind of soul into love songs for and with Ywada Pitts' Ginger. (She's no slouch as a soloist either.) Margaret Clark projects dignity as Rosa Parks, whether intoning "I Believe in God" backed by a gospel chorus or claiming she's too tired to give up her bus seat. Nate Jacobs hams up Cheeks' willingness to be happy with what Pharoah deigns to give him. With his nose frequently in the air over being "better off" from having learned the white man's culture, he draws plenty of deprecating laughter. As serious Moses, Robert Atkins appears monolithic, with serious if not very powerful tone. Though his costume is supposed to be patched, its significance doesn't come through. Don Spivey commendably keeps a straight face as the melodramatic meanie Pharoah.
Martin Luther King does not appear "in person" but through accounts of his beliefs and actions. Good, since there's nothing to suggest Meloncon would be able to construct speeches of the power of Dr. King.
It's a good idea to recall black history or teach it to a new generation in dramatic form. The Players' artistic director has announced he would like to stage "The Dream of Doors" every year here to celebrate the King holiday. It might be better to do it outside. Or in a church. Or fill The Players Theatre with Loften Mitchell's "Tell Pharoah" or some other well-staged, real African American classic in King's honor.
