Caribbean heat permeates Martina Laird's atmospheric yet ungoverned debut play, set on the cusp of independence for Trinidad and Tobago in 1962 and written in musical Trini Creole. An accomplished stage actress and veteran of television shows like The Bill, Casualty, and EastEnders, Laird demonstrates a talent for dialogue and compelling scenarios. The play follows three members of a fragmented black family as they navigate the oppressive structures of British colonialism and the aggressive, expansionist, and overtly criminal American capitalism. The setting, a gentleman's club that is essentially a brothel, is laden with heavy symbolism.
Unfortunately, the play's blending of sexual, filial, and political themes becomes repetitive and inconsistent. Director Justin Audibert should have demanded at least one more draft before staging this baggy Royal Shakespeare Company production, which premiered in Stratford in April. The action takes place in Alma, one of four houses owned by the complacently chuntering, white-suited Englishman Mansion (Roger Ringrose) in sweltering Port of Spain. Local woman Pearl (Ellen Thomas) collects the earnings from his empire on footsore daily rounds. Her lubricious, light-skinned daughter Ruby (Cat White), implicitly fathered by Mansion or another white man and born on the floor of Alma, caters to the thirsts and other needs of the men who frequent the house. This adds further discomfort to the lewdly proprietorial air Mansion projects over both women.
An arrangement with the corrupt and comically flirtatious local policeman Seldom (Shane David-Joseph) ensures a steady stream of rapacious tourists. However, reports on the independence movement led by Dr Eric Williams, later Trinidad and Tobago's first Prime Minister, pour from the new radiogram in the bar, alongside satirical calypso songs about sexual misbehavior and the expulsion of old and new imperialists.
Having lived in Alma all her life, Pearl feels it should be her birthright when Mansion returns to England. Ruby, sneeringly dismissive of the old woman, has her own vision for the business. Then the son Pearl abandoned at birth, the rangy, swaggering Diamond (Martins Imhangbe), arrives. He has claims of his own to assert. Given the production carries a content warning about incest, it is not much of a spoiler to say his instant interest in Ruby is not strictly fraternal. The phenomenon of Genetic Sexual Attraction, which can occur when separated relatives meet, was also explored in Stephen Poliakoff's 1991 film Close My Eyes, but it is a rare and tricky theme for drama. Here it serves as a metaphor for the warping influence of foreign domination. Family values get lost when humans are seen as a financial burden or a vessel for commercial or sexual exploitation. Abandonment and Caribbean machismo have given Diamond a twisted sense of what it means to be a man, and Ruby's identity is bound up in her kittenish desirability. Tom (Ziggy Heath), a Yankee sailor fronting a hazily defined criminal racket, sees an open opportunity in both.
Though vivid, the characters too often reiterate their wildly improbable schemes and desires. The emotional dynamics frequently turn on a sixpence, whipping from affection to scorn to lust and back again. Fair enough, you might say, that is humans for you. But the twists are too obviously engineered to move the sluggish story on. Laird's narrative ambition is impressive but overreaching. Attempts to link the black characters to a symbolic African mother-goddess and to make something primal of Diamond's shame are confused and underdeveloped.
The central trio performs well. Ellen Thomas's Pearl has an aggrieved solemnity and a wounding tongue. As Ruby, Cat White both incarnates and transcends the character's sensuality, with eye-flashing challenge and feline prowl. Imhangbe's Diamond moves from leering threat to touchingly broken need. The corrupt cop, the capitalist, and the crooked Yank are more two-dimensional, perhaps intentionally.
Audibert's direction features flashes of intensity amid boggy passages, though the rhythm and snap of the language carry it along. Designer Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey's costumes are evocative, her set drab. A mixed bag, then, but I will be keen to see what Laird writes next.
To 4 Jul, kilntheatre.com.
