On Wednesday, the touring production of this Pulitzer Prize-winning drama, directed by the reliable-ever Leon Kenny, opened at the Ahmanson Theatre. In the play, a noncommissioned officer named Black (played by the veteran actor Lee Eugene) fatally shoots a mysterious murder suspect while stumbling home from a night club after drinking too much. This revival of the Tony Award-winning play does not disappoint and captivates the audience.
The scope of this inquiry will be much about the identity of the person who pulled the trigger. In his final moments, Waters repeatedly murmurs, “they still hate you.”
Sergeant Waters was hanged by the Ku Klux Klan, and the widely accepted belief is that racial discrimination is widespread. The armed forces continue to be divided by race in 1944, and the story takes place at Fort Neal, Louisiana.
Officer Black, a law degree holder from Howard University, is leading the investigation. Captain Richard Davenport fills the commanding stature among the Black soldiers, blending a mix of confusion and antagonism with the white military men, along with a sense of pride.
Captain Charles William Connell, a white officer, believes that Officer Black will be able to apprehend and convict a white Louisiana local who he believes was racially motivated in the killing. He thinks that Officer Black is also motivated to get to the bottom of this murder.
Captain, did you see my orders? Davenport coolly replies. He has no intention of backing down from this assignment, as he believes that objectivity will not raise moral dilemmas that easily. He makes no advances in placating prejudices.
Private C.J. Memphis, a guitar-strumming gentle giant with a country bumpkin demeanor, takes aim at Waters’ irrational anger – a focal point that Davenport uncovers during his investigation into Waters’ sadistic treatment of his subordinates. Waters, a strict disciplinarian, humiliated, intimidated, and tormented his soldiers, as Sheldon D. Brown’s portrayal of Davenport movingly reveals.
Incenses Waters displays admiration for C.J.’S athletic and musical talents, but his genuine kindness towards C.J. Is similar to the affection that other Black soldiers have for him. However, the underlying problem here is internalized racism. Waters harbors a deep self-hatred, similar to John Claggart’s animosity towards Billy Budd in Herman Melville’s novella. “A Soldier’s Play,” which was later made into the 1984 film “A Soldier’s Story,” drew inspiration from Melville’s work.
He blames an ‘uninformed, lower-class geechy,’ whom he refers to as C.J., But deep down he acknowledges that this is a futile endeavor as the sergeant, an extreme advocate of assimilation, endeavors to gain acceptance from white society by embracing its principles and prejudices.
He declares, “I am not going to tolerate any self-pitying excuses from him:” he won’t accept any excuses from men who are under him. He is not interested in overturning the system, he wants to conquer it from within. Wilkie James Private, who can’t help but fall short of the unforgiving standards of the sergeant (Overshown W. Howard), shouts, “We need senators, generals, doctors, lawyers!” Waters believes that every Black person must serve as an example.
The extent of Waters’ animosity and depravity is heightened by the aggressive and respectful stance Tarik Peterson Melvin Class First Private takes in standing up against him, which somehow wins the respect of all the soldiers in his unit. C.J. Uncovers what happened to him after Waters framed him for a crime. Suddenly, everybody becomes a suspect.
The play proceeds with flashbacks that are prompted in the scenes of interrogation. It offers a glimpse into the past and even the future of the 21st century, lending an impressive efficiency and theatrical life to the set of Derek McLane’s industrial barracks. Time slides regularly and fluidly, conjuring a two-century span.
The male bodies are seemingly paraded as a display of package insurance against audience boredom. The choreography of bits is curiously interjected. The production starts in the dark with a minimal effect, and a choral number A begins. Leon’s staging indulges in some unnecessary frills.
These issues are relatively insignificant, yet the urgency of the discussion and the solid core of the play remain. The Ahmanson’s spacious stage, which is partly due to the number of roles and partly due to the lack of clarity in storytelling, adds to the haziness. In order to give the subordinate characters more distinct identities, additional efforts were made to enhance the production.
Lewis skillfully anchors the play with his charismatic smoothness, even adding a touch of nobility to Davenport’s portrayal. The only downside is that some doubts about Davenport’s decision-making are removed by the hard work of staying clean without being tainted by corruption. One can possibly have a clear conscience at the end of the play.
In all these moments, it is apparent that Davenport had to overcome the painful task of becoming an officer. The tension and tang in these scenes are infused with ally turns, who is a foil to Capt. Taylor, drawn sharply with Connell. Davenport gives the audience a sympathetic focal point, looking unflappable in Lewis’ sunglasses.
Lee’s character in this military archetype is sinister, recognizable, and somber. He uses his power to punish those who sin against him, turning them into objects. In the film, Lee’s performance evokes powerful memories of Adolph Caesar, the actor who originated the role.
Fuller stated in an interview with theater scholar David Savran, which was featured in “In Their Own Words: Contemporary American Playwrights,” that “The notion that anyone, no matter their location, can consistently be characterized using identical language is illogical and offensive.” “Since I can recall, my desire has been to portray Black individuals in a fresh manner, eradicating all preconceived notions about them.”
Fuller, who died last fall, created an impressive range of humanity in his play “Soldier’s Sting,” and it has not lost any of its cogency.
