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 The Death of the Last Black Man in the Whole Entire World by Suzan-Lori Parks  

OTHER MEDIA 
Parks' poetry peaks in provocative 'Last Black Man'
By Chad Jones
review in the Oakland Tribune
 
PULITZER PRIZE-winning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks dived into the mainstream with her drama "Topdog/Underdog," an extraordinary play about two African-American brothers, one named Lincoln, one named Booth. Unconventional but deeply compelling, "Topdog" showed off Parks' facility for using highly charged language and exaggerated slang as poetry and cultural connection. That facility is also the hallmark of an earlier Parks play, "The Death of the Last Black Man in the Whole Entire World," a rarely produced 1990 work now on stage courtesy of The Cutting Ball Theater of San Francisco.
 
To call "Death" a play is like calling a Jackson Pollock painting a landscape. In fact, Parks' collage-like collection of African and African-American stereotypes is very much like a piece of visual art, a painting that speaks and moves. The play is also choral poetry that incorporates joined voices and frequent repetition, not unlike a long verbal jazz riff. What the play doesn't have is a story, and for my money, that's what theater needs if it's really going to connect with an audience.
 
There's a lot to admire in director Rob Melrose's strong production, from Liliana Duque Pineiro's handsome wood-plank set to Melrose's sharp lighting design.
The 11-member cast does some striking work, even though some of them have very little do. But all of this is in service to a performance piece that doesn't entertain so much as stir up words and images and then asks you to make your own connections and draw your own conclusions. For some, that's an ideal piece of intellectually stimulating theater. For me, it's an exercise in frustration.
 
What's engaging here is very engaging. At the center of Parks' kaleidoscope are two slave characters: Black Man with a Watermelon (Myers Clark) and Black Woman with Fried Drumstick (Allison L. Payne). There's an emotional connection between the two that rises above all of the bizarre twists that Parks puts them through, and Clark and Payne are fantastic at making the characters as emotional and human as the script allows.
 
Payne's character is the titular black man who keeps dying over and over again, although nothing we see him go through matches the other characters' description of the death, which we hear over and over again. That death, we're told, occurred in the year 1317 as the man, a former slave and later civil rights advocate Gamble Major, fell 23 stories from a passing ship from space. He was 38 and kept a head under his television.
 
What? Perhaps logic is not the best thing to bring with you to the EXIT on Taylor.
Parks seems to want to tell us something about the complexities and inaccuracies of history, especially African-American history. One of her characters, called Yes and Greens Black-Eyed Peas Cornbread (Alexandrai Bond), keeps telling people they should write things down and put them under a rock.
 
Perhaps that's what Parks, in essence, is doing as she gathers Egyptian queen Hatshepsut (LeNeac Weathersby), Bigger Thomas (Dwight Huntsman) from Richard Wright's novel "Native Son," Noah's son Ham (Steve Crum), Old Man River Jordan (David Westley Skillman) and others as they offer their scraps of history, philosophy and poetry.
 
There are also some striking visual images that float above the seeming randomness of Parks' work. The most moving involves watermelons. As most of the cast is led away toward what appears to be a slave auction, each character has left behind a watermelon to hold his or her place on stage.
 
At just 75 minutes, "The Death of the Last Black Man in the Whole Entire World" is dense but mercifully brief. The Cutting Ball has done an excellent job with the play, but I still can't help feeling that something this obtuse and abstract belongs in a museum more than a theater.
 

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