Will the arrival in the West End of a play with a star-studded all-black cast breathe life into black British theatre or prove to be the death knell? Pride reports.
The usually razor-sharp claws of West End theatre critics have dulled somewhat as they continue to lavish praise on the revived version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, directed by the godmother of entertainment, Debbie Allen. The award-winning director/choreographer has collaborated with producer Stephen Byrd to put together a stellar all-black cast including heavyweights from the world of TV, film and theatre, such as James Earl Jones, Phylicia Rashad, Sanaa Lathan, and our very own Adrian Lester and Richard Blackwood. If the cast and crew had any first-night nerves, they’d surely be dispelled after they perused the reviews when the play opened its curtains several weeks ago. “Who can cavil about colour, given the brooding majesty of James Earl Jones,” wrote the Times critic. “Adrian Lester’s Brick is one of the high watermarks of the London year,” observed The Guardian’s Michael Billington.
With a scheduled run of six months at the Novello Theatre in the West End, it’s safe to say that the high expectations of the remake of the classic Tennessee Williams play have been duly met. But the tempo was less upbeat when Cat made its debut on Broadway in early 2008. Months before the opening, the play was assailed with negative commentary from naysayers who assumed that it would bomb because audiences would fail to believe that a black cast could authentically convey the nuances of this classic tale about a wealthy but dysfunctional white family from the Deep South of America. And, of course, there was always the question of who the play would speak to. It’s a commonly held assumption that black people just don’t go to the theatre. The cinema, yes; the comedy club, maybe; but theatre was, and still is, seen as the preserve of the white middle and affluent classes. This would prove to be a misjudgment, however, as despite lukewarm reviews, tickets sold by the bucketload when it finally arrived on Broadway, with sales totalling $14 million in 20 weeks. Furthermore, 80% of the audiences were black, shattering the myth that black people aren’t interested in theatre. “I remember people coming in late, asking if we could start over, talking to the stage,” Byrd says of the spirited theatrical experiences when the theatre was populated by black audiences.
“It’s a common assumption that black people don’t go to the theatre. It’s seen as the preserve of the white middle classes.”
What’s interesting however, is Stephen Byrd’s decision to add a black cast to a play written by a white playwright about a white family. Byrd, an African-American businessman who had a successful career at Goldman Sachs for 15 years, has received criticism from some who believe his decision to revive Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is nothing more than a calculated marketing ploy. He remains undeterred by the criticism. “I looked at the modern classics because I had never seen them done multiracially before. I wanted giants to play these parts, to make them real events for African-Americans.” This is a valid enough argument, but wouldn’t it have been more fitting to remake a piece of work that speaks of the black experience, such as the recent and successful Broadway production of A Raisin in the Sun, which starred Sean “P Diddy” Combs? Or even something as powerful as the iconic The Color Purple, which also received a Broadway makeover in recent years and played for months to rapturous audiences? The thing that makes Cat such a curious choice of revival is not just that the characters were white; it’s also the nature of the story. It’s a tale about a 1950s plantation owner and his family in the Deep South, considered by many as the epicentre of racism in pre-civil rights America. It marks a period in US history when black people were routinely lynched, oppressed and had very little social standing.The life of Big Daddy and his warring privileged brood couldn’t be more of a stark contrast to the existence of African-Americans in the 50s.
According to Debbie Allen, though, this is irrelevant. “The black cast is totally incidental to what we’re doing, which is discovering the heart and heartache and love and lies of the families that we all know,” she says. But she will admit that some elements of the story had to change – for instance, the story is now set in the 1980s rather than the 50s – but she still believes that the themes discussed – love, money, terminal illnesses, sexual dysfunction, alcoholism – are universal.
On the contrary, producer Steven Byrd admits that race was a driving force behind the marketing of the play, and the main reason for transporting the play across the pond is because black audiences are being underfed. The ambitious producer has further plans to give other classic white plays a black makeover, with A Streetcar Named Desire and Death of a Salesman among those on his radar. So, does this mark the future of black theatre? Will audiences have to contend with stories told by others, portrayed by us?
Tellingly, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is only the second dramatic black play to be staged in the West End, Kwame Kwei-Armah’s Elmina’s Kitchen being the first. While I’m sure most of us will agree that the huge amount of publicity and favourable press that Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is receiving can only bring about positive change to the narrow remit employed by the gatekeepers at the West End, it does beg the question of what this means for the future of productions written by black playwrights, which centre on themes specifically highlighting the black experience. We’re talking about the Kwame Kwei-Armahs of this world, as well as young breakthrough talent such as Bola Agbaje and Roy Williams. Will their stories now be welcomed into the arms of the white theatre elite, or will they be further marginalized and pushed underground because they fail to come with a star-studded African-American cast or a script that is regarded as a classic? Black British playwright Roy Williams believes we still have a long way to go. “There has been progress, but in terms of having more black faces on the stage (and screen), and in terms of fresh, contemporary stories told from a black perspective, we are coming up short,” he says. He also believes that, as black Britons, we have our own unique story to tell. “Our plays are about London now – an exciting, complex, difficult city at the end of the first decade of this new millennium.”
Whether Cat on a Hot Tin Roof will prove to be a positive in the trajectory of black British theatre lies in the hands of theatregoers. The glowing reviews that the production has already received is definitely encouraging. However, the success of the BBC adaptation of Andrea Levy’s tale of immigration Small Island, which raked in 5 million viewers, also proves that there is an appetite for quality, real black drama, despite the theory advocated by many that black life is of no interest to non-black people.
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