Seattle Rep Bogeys With Radio Golf
Seattlest dropped in at the Seattle Rep for the late August Wilson's final play in his ten-cycle series, Radio Golf. It's playing through February 18, and well worth making a trip to the Rep for, if only for the chance to see a Seattle theater audience that's not almost exclusively white. Tickets range from $22 - $36 ($10 if you're under 25 with ID). There are also rush prices 30 minutes before each performance.
Taking place in the Hill District of Pittsburgh in the late 1990s, the play's question is how far the African-Americans have really come in society. Specifically, Radio Golf turns on the difference between "economic revitalization" and "gentrification." Black developers (and golfers) Harmond Wilks (Rocky Carroll) and his partner Roosevelt Hicks (James A. Williams) have a plan for a new Hill District apartment complex, set atop a Whole Foods, Barnes & Noble, and Starbucks. (Yes, August Wilson was living in Seattle while he wrote the play.) Wilks has in mind to use the boost from his high-minded development to jumpstart a run for mayor.
But when the owner of an abandoned house that sits in the center of the planned development reappears suddenly, things get...awkward. It doesn't help that he's a semi-sane vagrant who goes by "Old [Black] Joe" (Anthony Chisholm).
Stirring in minority-ownership tax incentives, African-American participation in WWII and Vietnam, and Oprah's fanbase, Wilson created a stew simmering with the resentment building between poorer blacks and those who seemed to be "making it." We can't think of another modern playwright so attuned to the spoken word as Wilson, who reveled as much in presenting fascinating, revealing conversations and calling them a play.
Yes, it's digressive and not all of it adds up, but Wilson never takes the easy way out. As one of our companions said, "I kept listening to one character make all these good points and nodded and thought, Yeah, he's right -- but then the other guy would come back and I'd think the same thing about what he said." The play is full of a bitter, ironic humor that you often feel a disturbing twinge for laughing at, knowing how much truth there is to it.
So that's good.
What was a drag was the line for the cookies during the 15-minute intermission. The bell rang to head back to your seats by the time we got to the front, and then we were told they only take cash, no plastic. Seattlest wanted to walk into Radio Golf's 1997 set, because we remembered using our debit card at the cornerstore back then. Maybe we could get a frickin' cookie there, we thought huffily. Stupid Rep. In fact, the cookie was dry and crumbly. We recommend the delicious, moist and rich brownies.
