Playwright: Nambi E. Kelley
At: Mpaact and Prop Thtr at Prop Thtr, 3502-04 N. Elston
Phone: ( 773 ) 539-7388
Runs through: May 15
Nambi E. Kelley's Bus Boyz has enough subject matter for two plays, and that is not a good thing.
A collaboration between Prop Thtr and Ma'at Production Association for Afrikan Centered Theater ( Mpaact ) , Bus Boyz delivers multiple, similar and credibility defying tales of woe involving a young women's search for the right man.
The drama also strives for a metaphysical emphasis, by attempting to delve the impact one's ancestors have in shaping one's life.
Each topic is inherently intriguing and rich with dramatic potential. But by cramming both into her 90-minute piece, Kelley dilutes and muddles their importance. Wooden acting and improbable situations further ensure these potentially compelling issues come across as insignificant or laughable.
Directed by Ayana Cahrr, Bus Boyz does have a unique rhythm. Intermittently, a distinctive, powerful cadence will creep into the dialogue. Mostly, however, the distinctive tempo is evident in the mesmerizing soundscape composed by Aum Mu Ra, Danjuma Gaskin and Shepsu Aakhu.
The trio performs a range of percussive and stringed instruments on stage, improvising a long ribbon of mesmerizing music that unfurls as the single, extraordinary element of Bus Boyz.
The story centers on Mary ( a hyperactive Tanya Renee Lane ) , following her from age six through 28. Abandoned by her father Pops ( an egregiously self-conscious Earl Fox ) , Mary embarks on a lifetime of bad choices of men she likens to buses. If one man doesn't take her where she wants to go, well, another one will be along soon enough.
The men who come into her life are portrayed with varying degrees of cartoonishness by Tony Sedillie, Kevin Douglas, and Osiris Khepera.
Stedillie, for example, plays a beat cop from the South Side who hardly bothers to veil his ingrained racism and homophobia. The very fact that Mary would date such an obvious jerk strains believability. Another moment of seeming nonsense occurs when Mary meets a football player on the bus and within two minutes, is fondling his ass.
Then there's the Afrikan Prince, a dashki-wearing fellow of 38 that Mary takes up with when she's 18. He walks like a royalty, but acts like a slimeball, giving Mary a nasty case of crabs, setting the stage for the yucky vision of the protagonist scratching frantically at her nether regions.
Intermittently in her relationships, Pops shows up to tell Mary the ancestors have been talking to him, and he knows she's been behaving badly.
You'll get no argument here, that one's ancestors leave indelible marks—be they genetic, spiritual or both—on their descendents. But having Pops show up to tell Mary the ancestors have been tattling on her reduces them from spiritual forces to nosey next-door-neighbors.
In the end, we don't care much about Mary's relationships or her ancestors, because both have been reduced to tedious caricatures.