STICK FLY

From L-R: Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Condola Rashad, Mekhi Phifer, Rosie Benton, Tracie Thoms and Dulé Hill star in Stick Fly. (Photo courtesy of http://stickflybroadway.com/.)

Playwright Lydia R. Diamond’s Stick Fly takes us into a world that feels more like a modern-day version of Alice in Wonderland, where nothing is what it seems. When Taylor (Tracie Thoms), an educated yet underprivileged black woman, first arrives at the summer home in Martha’s Vineyard, she is more like “Alice” herself as she walks around the house with openmouthed stares, trying to take it all in. From the antique furniture to the original Romare Bearden painting that hangs in the living room, it becomes quite clear to Taylor (and to the audience as well) that she has just stepped into a world so unlike anything she’s known before. But with her fiancé Kent (Dulé Hill)—whom she affectionately calls “Spoon”—standing by her side, Taylor seems undaunted by the fact that Kent comes from money, that is, until the rest of the LeVay clan arrives.

Aside from a passionate kiss shared between Taylor and Kent on the couch, the only other thing they have in common is a strong passion for their respective careers—Taylor’s an entomologist and Kent is well on his way to becoming a published author. But as we soon learn, passion is a four-letter word in the LeVay family: Kent’s older brother Flip (Mekhi Phifer), a wonderfully cocky plastic surgeon whose idea of roughing it was driving “dad’s old Saab” during his Harvard days, and father Joe (Ruben Santiago-Hudson), an equally arrogant yet successful neurosurgeon who has married into one of the Vineyard’s first black families. Although Joe is quite the charmer with Taylor and the other women of the house (minus a conspicuously absent LeVay matriarch), he’s unabashedly critical of Kent as he lists all the degrees he’s paid for over the years, mainly because Kent spurned his father’s plans, a career in law, to become a writer.

The interactions between these characters in earlier scenes of the play are stiff and contrived, that is, until it is revealed that Flip and Taylor have crossed paths once before. When Taylor heads into the kitchen, she’s startled by Flip’s presence as she shrieks, “God, you scared me!” “God is so formal. Just call me Flip.” After they exchange a few brief but memorable words, Flip just flat out calls Taylor a “gold digger.” When she meets Cheryl (Condola Rashad) for the first time, Taylor initially mistook her for Flip’s girlfriend. But Kent explains to her that Cheryl’s the daughter of the ailing “Ms. Ellie” (also noticeably absent) who helps out around the house. Taken aback by this information, Taylor blurts out, “Oh, you’re the maid!” At every turn, Taylor not only apologizes for their initial meeting, but she tries her best to help out a rather pensive Cheryl around the house, only to step on her toes in the process.

As Taylor’s insecurities are steadily mounting with every encounter, tensions flare upon the arrival of Kimber (Rosie Benton), Flip’s girlfriend. In order to soften the blow of her “whiteness” to everyone, especially his mom, Flip tells the family that she’s “Italian.” Let’s just say that Kimber is anything but Italian! Coming from a rather affluent background herself, Kimber surprisingly fits in well with the LeVay family. Although Taylor’s the daughter of a renowned academic author, he abandoned her and her mother years ago, making Taylor somewhat of an outcast. When Kimber talks about her passion for her work with inner-city school children, this starts an ongoing debate throughout the play about racism in schools and Taylor recalls being the “only one” in most of her classes: “They let one or two of us in who’ve had enough privilege to almost play the game. Just enough to make us think we’re special.” Kimber’s surprised by Taylor’s views on racism, especially since she sees Taylor as the exception (educated, beautiful, etc.). Taylor literally steps outside of herself and verbally attacks Kimber, who in that moment became an unwitting martyr for all the white people who ever crossed Taylor’s path. “Okay, did I say that out loud?” asks a mortified Taylor. There’s an awkward moment of silence among the family members as they sit with bewildered stares. Perfect time for a game of “Parcheesi,” Joe suggests.

Although the transition from a family “meet and greet” to Taylor’s emotional outburst is rather abrupt, it’s actually a crucial moment in Stick Fly that really opens up all of the characters. In that scene, Thoms either draws on personal experience, or perhaps it is the voice of playwright Diamond, a graduate of Northwestern, where blacks make up less than 5% of the incoming class. Although the flare-up itself is provokingly honest and full of merit, again, Taylor’s shift from a geeky scientist who literally chases and traps insects with honey to “Angela Davis” (circa 1970) just doesn’t “fly.” However, Taylor’s introspection and self-doubt during the second half of the play is much more heartfelt.

Phifer is devilishly good as the arrogant playboy “Flip,” while Hill’s “Kent” is stiff and so unsure of himself that he often gets lost in all the commotion. It’s never explained whether Kent really loves Taylor or just connects with her because of his status (or lack thereof) in the LeVay family. Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s “Joe” nearly suffers from the similar rigid problems of “Kent,” but Hudson’s such a pro as he injects wonderfully idiosyncratic touches into his character, notably the hidden jar of “pickled pig’s feet” in the kitchen that Mrs. LeVay has banned from his diet. But it is Condola Rashad who gives a star-making performance as “Cheryl,” who in the midst of her own inner turmoil takes the focus off of the other characters (especially Taylor) almost completely when she discovers a shocking secret. If the first half is Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, the second half is definitely Usptairs, Downstairs, largely thanks to Rashad.

While David Gallo’s set design of the vacation home in “Not Oaks Bluffs” adds a social and historical context to the play about the black elite, Reggie Ray’s costume designs distinctively separates the haves from the have-nots. Some of the actors use the setting and props to their full advantage while others are perhaps struggling with the very notion of class and it shows in their performances. Although the much needed discussion of class and race is what gives Stick Fly its vitality, you begin to seek out only the melodramatic scenes and discount the nuanced yet significant moments, particularly the discussion that occurs between Joe and Taylor on the patio. Thankfully, Stick Fly is overflowing with enough squabbles, both petty and profound, to keep you engaged until the very end.

Produced and scored by Alicia Keys and directed by Kenny Leon, Lydia R. Diamond’s Stick Fly is now playing at the Cort Theater on 138 West 48th Street. To learn more about this wildly entertaining play and for tickets, please visit http://stickflybroadway.com.