Writers Theatre presents MA RAINEY’S BLACK BOTTOM Review

Wilson’s script uses the historical “Mother of the Blues” Gertrude Pridgett (aka Ma Rainey) – one of the first major black recording stars – to tell this fictional story of black musicians and the white men who pay pennies to extract gold from their mine of talent. Scenic designer Todd Rosenthal’s set reflects the primitive technology of the era, its small sound booth above and a few bulky microphones below. In this humble space, director Ron OJ Parson unspools the complex dynamics of music, race, money, sex, religion and the meaning of life itself.

Waiting for Ma at WRITERS THEATRE

We wait through much of Act I for Ma Rainey’s entrance. She’s late for the recording session. Till then, producer Sturdyvant (Thomas J. Cox) and manager Irvin (Peter Moore) quarrel about the most effective way to handle their difficult star. Meanwhile, Ma’s four band members quarrel about everything else. In their nonstop verbal sparring, Cutler (Alfred H. Wilson), Levee (Kelvin Roston, Jr.), Slow Drag (A.C. Smith) and Toledo (David Alan Anderson) vie for dominance. Alternating between the comedy and tragedy of their rough existence, these four men quickly etch specific characters and worldviews.

Ma Rainey finally shows up – and does not disappoint. Played with force and vulnerability by Felicia P. Fields, she brings an entourage of her pretty lover Dussie Mae (Tiffany Renee Johnson) and nephew Sylvester (Jalen Gilbert). As if the rivalry already onstage wasn’t enough, the singer’s demands --to call her “Madame” Rainey, to provide Coca-Colas, to include stuttering Sylvester’s introduction in the recording – add to the tension. When they finally lay tracks for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” (an actual song written by the singer herself), pure joy fills the stage as Ma not only sings but spontaneously does some “black bottom” dance moves with Dussie Mae.

MA RAINEY’S BLACK BOTTOM’s darkness and rage

Moments of pure joy don't come often in MA RAINEY’S BLACK BOTTOM. Usually, they're the byproducts of sardonic humor or the pain-killing effects of a reefer. After they’ve made magic for the white powerbrokers’ next hit, these musicians still can’t hail a cab or cash a check in Chicago. Trumpet player Levee, delighted with his new pair of sporty $11 shoes, embodies this frustration even more than Ma Rainey. Bursting with innovative tunes and plans to form his own band, Levee holds too much rage from past racial injustices for his own good.

The banter leading up to Levee’s outbursts tends to go on too long in this viewer’s opinion. But the ambling pace and sometimes clumsy shifts ultimately pay off. The lyrics to the titular song say it all: “Wait until you see me do my big black bottom/I'll put you in a trance.” Like Ma’s entrance, it’s worth all the steps it takes to get there.