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- THEATER, Page 92Playwright's Own Story
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- By WILLIAM A. HENRY III
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- FROM THE MISSISSIPPI DELTA
- By Endesha Ida Mae Holland
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- The average middle-aged American has lived through
- astonishingly rapid social change. Civil rights movements have
- uprooted corrupt political systems and brought security to
- people who used to live in fear. Higher education has expanded
- beyond a narrow elite. The structure of society no longer
- depends on -- in fact it deplores -- the orderly confines of
- having everyone "know his place." These facts are so overarching
- that we tend to take them for granted, but they are inherently
- more dramatic than the domestic squabbles and psychological
- revelations at the heart of most U.S. theater. It is the daring,
- and impressively achieved, ambition of Endesha Ida Mae Holland
- to make this arc of change the subject of a single play and to
- illuminate it all in the more-or-less true story of one black
- woman: herself.
-
- From the Mississippi Delta, which opened off-Broadway last
- week after extensive regional tryouts, blends folktales,
- childhood memories, salty down-home sociological observations
- and blues and gospel standards with Holland's unabashed
- "confessions." Raped in childhood, a prostitute as a teenager,
- she eventually earned a Ph.D. and now teaches American studies
- at the State University of New York at Buffalo. The first act,
- about the world she came from, is diffuse, as much panorama as
- autobiography. The second is more tightly personal, yet it too
- derives from the oldest notion of the theater -- as pure
- storytelling. Three stunningly gifted women describe and enact
- the many characters. Sybil Walker excels in sly and sassy
- moments, Jacqueline Williams in raucous and unaffected ones, and
- Cheryl Lynn Bruce radiates quiet strength. They share roles,
- including that of the author, with a fluidity that makes an
- extremely theatrical event seem natural and engagingly offhand.
-
- At the center is the writer's bond with her mother, an
- uneducated but adept midwife who, in vintage American style,
- inspired her children to make something of themselves by seizing
- opportunities she never had. Her foibles and uproarious
- back-country ways are evoked unflinchingly but without
- disrespect. It is a measure of Holland's gifts (and of Bruce's
- acting) that the mother never seems a plaster saint, even when
- she is a true martyr -- fatally burned in a house fire that was
- apparently retaliation for the daughter's civil rights activism.
-
- Holland's talents shine in the scenes of her rape, on her
- 11th birthday by a white town elder, and her mother's murder.
- She has an infallible ear for the emotional pace of a scene,
- letting the horror be just blunt enough for just long enough,
- then segueing into the release of laughter. She finds the right
- detail: the raped child from the shacks eyeing an exquisite
- carved bouquet on the banister as she struggles back downstairs;
- dogs sniffing at a patch of the mother's burnt skin scraped onto
- the sidewalk. Her dialogue can jolt the audience with the
- unexpected, sometimes twice within a few words: just after her
- rape, the girl regains pride by scorning childish pleasures,
- saying she feels she is "a woman now -- an old woman." And she
- utterly avoids self-pity. Instead this unforgettable play is
- steeped in the writer's, her mother's and her region's jubilant
- zest for life.
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