Playwright: Robert O'Hara
At: Strawdog Theatre Company at Steppenwolf's 1700 Theatre, 1700 N. Halsted St.. Tickets: 312-335-1650; Steppenwolf.org/tickets; $45. Runs through: Sept. 30
Five adult siblings with substance-abuse issues gather for a barbecue, which is cover for a family intervention for Barbara, the out-of-control crackhead sister nicknamed "Zippety-Boom" for her violent moods.
In fact, there are two sets of siblings identical in every way—names, substance issues, costumes, attitudes—except one set is white and the other is Black. They appear in alternating scenes presenting a single, continuing story. Both sib sets are comically vulgar and blue-collar, and equally lampooned by playwright Robert O'Hara, a skilled satirist. You see, Barbecue is a comedy and substance abuse isn't the real story. His exaggerations are funny and colorful, and audiences should have an enjoyable time laughing at—not with—both sets of characters.
Then, in the closing seconds of Act I, O'Hara pulls the rug out from under the audience, and Act II is a completely different play. O'Hara seems to be concerned in Act I with racial differences that are more perceived than actual, while his Act II concerns are cultural appropriation and the separation of truth from believability ( not the same as truth ) in our media-driven age. No spoilers here, but Act II revolves around a Black diva movie star ( appropriately glamorous Ginneh Thomas ) and the white Barbara ( Abby Pierce ). If it isn't quite as laugh-out-loud funny as Act I, it certainly is equally satiric.
Barbecue, first produced last year off-Broadway, is a highly theatrical and entertaining two hours journey, especially in this very lively and well-acted Strawdog production, directed by Damon Kiely, who knows one mustn't over-exaggerate the first half or it will neutralize the Act I closing surprise. Although Thomas and Pierce dominate Act II, Barbecue very much is an ensemble piece and the other eight players are equally capable. They have a fine old time throwing O'Hara's finely tuned trash-talk dialogue at each other.
O'Hara's play Bootycandy—about an African-American boy growing to manhood and discovering his gay identity—was a deserved success last year at the Windy City Playhouse. O'Hara knows how to create theater that's cheeky but not threatening, helped by his ability to be an equal-opportunity satirist when it comes to racial matters. He's clever and witty although not yet as deep a writer as I believe he can be. The partly autobiographical Bootycandy cut closer to the bone and the heart than Barbecue, while still providing plenty of showmanship. Barbecue sacrifices the personal detail in favor of a theme O'Hara has explored in several other plays: the manipulation of—and competition between—image and truth in America. That manipulation/competition has applied to the Black/white divide since our colonial days, and is richly highlighted and yet also ignored by O'Hara via the doppelganger structure of Barbecue.
