The revival of a modern classic is always an occasion for reminiscence, celebrations and some recriminations by nostalgic fans of the original production. In the case of A Raisin in the Sun, Lorraine Hansberry’s great breakthrough drama of African-American struggles against inequality, every revival – and there have been very many distinguished ones worldwide – has to deal with comparison to the historical 1959 Broadway original, which was mostly exactly repeated in the classic 1961 movie.
Those connected with that production not already known as theater greats became known as legendary, including even the technical staff and the boy who played young Travis, Glynn Turman, replaced in the ’61 film by a younger boy because Turman was already on the way to becoming a highly regarded actor, rodeo star, celebrity [married to Aretha Franklin] and one of the most beautiful men on earth.
So anything I write about Geva Theater Center’s impressive new revival has to be questioned as the jaundiced reaction of a worshipper who treasures all the above memories and has seen at least five superb subsequent star-studded versions (including Geva’s 1978 one with a young actor in a supporting role named Samuel L. Jackson). Also, there is a Spoiler Alert below to warn against reading about one “improvement” before you see this version and can let the moment surprise and affect you without preparation.
Despite my distaste for some of director Robert O’Hara’s changes in emphasis and my surprise at the unusually drab and distressed set (the Youngers really need to get out of this dump!), I found that I was still moved again by this deeply affecting script and appreciated the clearly thoughtful and potent performances and production values.
A Raisin in the Sun (I can’t abbreviate it as Raisin because that’s the title of a Broadway musical version) is the story of a family of five cramped in a run-down tenement apartment and frustrated by their actually worsening lives after years of struggling to improve their work – and living – conditions.
The widowed grandmother is awaiting her late husband’s life insurance check and decides to use much of it as down payment on a roomy house in an upscale neighborhood. But all she can find is a white neighborhood in 1955 Chicago, and a representative of the white families there tries to bribe the Youngers not to move in (and hints that there will be unpleasantness if they do). Hansberry’s play makes the ugliness of the situation explicit but ends with a fiercely independent family, newly reunited and hopefully facing a struggle to achieve a higher level of living. [That's the real meaning of hopefully, not "it is hoped."]
Lynda Gravatt brings the necessary impressive strength to the role of Lena, head of the family and upholder of traditional values. But Lena is the one unselfishly wise enough to see the desperate need to get out of their ghetto and work toward their dreams. Bowman Wright has the virile force for Walter Lee, her son, and provides conflict and contagious emotion. But I wish he weren’t directed to march constantly in circles around a small space to indicate frustration: it looks like a phony theatrical device.
Daphne Gaines plays Walter’s pregnant wife skillfully and tellingly; her Ruth manages to deal with more reversals than the others but maintain a throughline appeal. Beautiful Jessica Frances Dukes is empathetic and smart in her second-act scenes with her boyfriend from Africa, but some of her carrying on in Act I looks more like a minstrel-show cutie than the bright young hope of the family who plans to be a physician.
That African visiting student, Joseph Asagai is believably played by tall, handsome Tyrien Andre`Obahjoko, who also impressively switches to play Walter’s frustrated business-pal, George Murchison. Perri Gaffney is funny in the mostly thankless role of Mrs. Johnson, a nosy neighbor who regards the Youngers as “uppity.”
Keith D. Gallagher -- in the really thankless role of the white “Welcoming Committee” member who tries to pay off Walter from moving into his neighborhood -- suggests the racism and the hints of menace without losing a bland, “civilized” manner. And Brian D. Coats does what he can with walk-ons and the silent, symbolic presence of the deceased Grandfather, Big Walter. Coats was memorable as Gabriel in Geva’s production of Fences.
Designs by Clint Ramos are clearly unified in a consistent concept, although with necessary variations for comic and pathetic touches. Japhy Weideman’s mostly subtle lighting accommodates this production's sometimes jarring shifts between realism and stylized commentary.
SPOILER ALERT: The final curtain is shortcut in O’Hara’s version by having the boy, Travis Younger, walk downstage out of the set as the kitchen-living room recedes upstage and a handsome new, large house front is lowered in front of it. Read no further if you don’t want to. As Travis approaches the front door, a sign painted in red across the whole house front is projected. It reads, “NIGGER.” In her later writings, Lorraine Hansberry was very forceful in treating the prejudice facing African Americans more openly in 1955 than it is now, although it's still prevalent. But she made it clear that she wanted this play, which warns the Youngers against such bigoted attacks, to end with an upbeat picture of their moving upward. I believe that she would have been horrified at this disfigurement of her great work.
