Fairview by Jackie Sibblies Drury

Oct 27

a critique by Korinn Annette Jefferies, korinnannette.com

in my study of Black family life, Jackie Sibblies Drury’s Fairview has come up many times.

I have been investigating the way Black playwrights interpret the Black family for the stage and how the audience’s gaze impacts the way we create/the way we depict Blackness.

it is no secret that Fairview is written for a white audience. when I first read this piece, that fact was painfully obvious. viewing this piece only emphasized my initial feeling.

but it was SO good though.

I finally got to actually see Fairview at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts under the direction of NC Black Rep’s Jackie Alexander— whose presence provides a different context than that of the white director who initially premiered this work.

the set, the tech— beautiful gowns (aside from what appeared to be an AI family portrait on the wall). however, in the show’s program, there is far too much emphasis on what I’m sure (based on racial theatrical traditions and school demographics) is a predominantly white design team and stage crew. this is my first UNCSA production in a very long time and I find it odd that the actors were not given the opportunity to share their bios in the program. instead there is a three page list of production staff and a one page ad asking for hurricane relief donations.

the play opens with Beverly, wearing an unsubstantiated AKA apron and mouthing the words to Frankie Beverly’s ‘Before I Let Go’ as it plays through a speaker. the mouthing feels disingenuous. it’s almost like she’s faking? I would have preferred for her to just sing the song or not mouth the words.

the beginning of this play has always felt like a haunt to me. in the text, the play begins “Lights up on a negro” and Beverly is that negro. the tone of this part of the play is far more ominous on the page than it was onstage at UNCSA.

as the play continues we see a Black family prepare to celebrate their matriarch. a husband, a wife, an auntie, and a niece.

the niece, Keisha, played by Chelsea Rose, was a standout in this production. Rose’s depiction of Keisha was consistent, energetic, and enlivened the entire cast.

visually experiencing the family dance breaks did highlight the horror of this play for me, but I don’t think audience understood exactly what was happening— that these dance breaks were literally to be interpreted as a shucking and jiving.

and I’m not quite sure why a family would be setting the table to ‘Back That Azz Up’ and ‘Nuthin’ But a “G” Thang’ at a celebration for their elderly mother. it was cute but it didn’t make any sense.

as this was my first time experiencing Fairview onstage, I didn’t know what to expect when the white people came in act two. in my head, while reading the text, I always imagined them sitting around watching the Black family. maybe not directly onstage but perhaps in the first row of the audience or directly in front of it. I assumed that the audience saw the white characters when they were introduced. but there is no distinction made in the text. in this production, these characters were introduced exclusively through their voices.

I don’t think that this is the most effective way to present the second act of the play. without seeing these characters, it is difficult to connect the voices to them when they appear as members of the family in act three. for people who haven’t read the play, it can be hard to track what exactly is happening because there are only a few very subtle cues in the dialogue. it is much more poignant to see this white woman talk about her mammy in act two and then literally come out as her interpretation of one in act three.

when Keisha delivers her monologue at the end of the play, beckoning white people in the audience to come onto the stage and be viewed/to take the place of the Black family, it is… indicative of what going to the theatre is like for many Black patrons. as you can imagine, the majority of the audience was on the stage, with only a few white people lingering behind in their seats, taking a very LOUD stance by not getting [the fuck] up.

her monologue is delivered to the audience that remains seated, but it is not for us/the message she is delivering is something the seated audience members already know and understand. Keisha’s monologue is an indoctrination of those that are standing behind her on the stage.

again, this piece is for white people.

it’s very powerful stuff.

but in the end I found myself worried about the actress. about Chelsea Rose and whether or not there was an intimacy coordinator to help with the emotions and feelings that arise from being put in such a vulnerable position with a very real, unpredictable audience. it is not easy to break the fourth wall in a way that accosts white people and holds them accountable for their behavior. and it’s not easy to watch.

so when we as writers or theatre artists in general task Black performers with these roles— do we care what happens next?

is there aftercare for her?

is there aftercare for me?

read my previous analysis of ‘Fairview’ here.