Skylight's Musical "Raisin" is Uneven

Photo by Ross Zentner.

In great storytelling, the medium matters. And even if opportunistic producers believe that one story can be successfully translated from a novel, to a musical, to a cartoon, to a video game, to an action figure and back again, there are definitely formats that are better at communicating the narrative and allowing the characters and their arcs to truly shine. Then there are versions that obscure the message and dilute the plot. For example, I believe that Back to the Future, Groundhog Day, and Pretty Woman should be films, not Broadway shows. Dear Evan Hansen should be seen on stage, not on Netflix. Spiderman should absolutely stay away from the footlights, and the founding father Alexander Hamilton, who you meet on the pages of Ron Chernow’s book, will never be as exciting as its rap-battling, hip hop counterpart in the blockbuster musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda. 

And in that same vein, perhaps Lorraine Hansberry’s groundbreaking 1959 play A Raisin in the Sun should not be a musical. 

Playing through April 24 at Skylight Music Theatre, Raisin gives audiences the now familiar story of the Younger family, struggling to decide how to spend a $10,000 life insurance check so that they can all move closer to attaining their American dreams. But interspersed with conversations about race, assimilation, discrimination, and dreams deferred, Raisin features more than a dozen songs, written for a 1973 version of the play, spearheaded by Hansberry’s former husband Robert Nemiroff. With melodies that lean heavily on ’70s jazz and gospel, the musical numbers fail to move the story forward, provide new insights about the characters, or give the audience anything memorable to hum as they exit the theater. Instead the songs slow down the pace of the story to a painful crawl and steal energy from the important family conflicts. 

Unfortunately, the script and score for Raisin is only one of the problematic elements in this production, directed and choreographed by Kenneth L. Roberson. A notably uneven cast exacerbates the problem of smoothly transitioning from song to scene. One lead performer was clearly much more comfortable with singing and dancing than acting, lighting up during musical numbers but appearing wooden during tough conversations with family members. Another cast member had a very hard time making it through a solo number late in the show, while an additional performer with a small role gave an indulgent, over-the-top reading, milking their stage time for all it was worth. Finally, an extremely talented dancer was superimposed onto several scenes, adding pieces of ballet and traditional African dance that cluttered the musical numbers instead of elevating them. While the choreography was beautifully executed, it seemed emphatically out of place.

Photo by Ross Zentner.

In spite of these challenges, there were also some excellent elements of the production. Christopher Roton’s scenic design provided a great backdrop for the story of one Black family’s efforts to build a better life, with only moderate success due to institutional racism, segregation and red-lining. A silhouette of the downtown skyline in 1950s Chicago lined the back of the stage, appearing so far off that the prosperity of the city seemed unattainable. The broken outline of the Youngers’ apartment was also affecting, illustrating the structural weakness of their living conditions, if not the actual squalor. A stairway to nowhere floating above the stage also poignantly represented the family’s inability to move upward. 

Photo by Ross Zentner.

In addition, several members of the cast gave powerful, heartfelt performances that brought the divisions in the family to life. Melanie Loren was delightful as Ruth Younger, the level headed wife to Walter Lee (J. Daughtry). Ruth’s worry, love, occasional impatience and divided loyalties were easy to see in Loren’s physicality, her expressive face, and her warm, beautiful singing voice. Similarly, Camara Stampley slipped easily into the role of Beneatha Younger, the youngest sibling with the biggest ambitions. Her duet “Alaiyo” with love interest Joseph Asagai (a charming Denzel Taylor) was a highlight of the first act. It contrasted sharply with the resentment she harbored after her brother's poor investment cost Beneatha all of her tuition money for medical school. Finally, as matriarch of the family Lena Younger, Wydetta Carter was formidable. Slow to anger but immovable in her determination and values, Carter wore her myriad disappointments like a heavy cape. When she finally raised her voice, her clear-eyed conviction was simply stunning. 

Skylight Artistic Director Michael Unger deserves some credit for choosing this rarely-produced show in an effort to diversify his first full season. But hopefully in the future he can find better material to amplify a variety of voices in pieces that explicitly belong on a musical theater stage.