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Never Givin’ Up

 

 

Reviewed by Pauline Adamek

The Broad Stage

Through April 26

 

 RECOMMENDED:

 

 Since 1992, writer-performer Anna Deavere Smith has performed several one-person shows, employing her perfected documentary theater style. She describes her new show as a “rhetoric of hope.”

 

Never Givin’ Up is an evening on monologues, linked by the theme of injustice and racial persecution. Smith obtained interviews with a number of subjects, gaining first-hand accounts of episodes of violence. Rudy Salas was a witness to the Rodney King beating by white LAPD officers in 1991 and, as a Mexican, he also suffered a lifetime of injustice and persecution in school and at the hands of police.

 

A gifted mimic and chameleon, Smith adopts the personas of various characters as she relates these shrewdly selected monologues and interview excerpts. Throughout the one-act, 90-minute show, among the persons she does not attempt to imitate is Martin Luther King, Jr., though his philosophy forms the ideological background to Smith’s performance, and she does read from his 1963 “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” which Smith rightly considers to be “a great, great piece of American literature.”

 

Early during an organized campaign of non-violent protest against racial segregation and economic injustice in Birmingham, Alabama, King was arrested and jailed. It was his 13th arrest of 29. From his jail cell, he composed the now-famous “Letter” which responds to calls on the movement to pursue legal channels for social change.

 

Listening to Smith read King’s letter aloud is a profound experience, a recitation rife with truth and passion. Claiming to “carry the Gospel of Freedom,” King’s erudition shines in his lofty analogies, even drawing a comparison between himself and Saint Paul. In short, King’s letter proves a powerful defense of the motivations, tactics, and goals of the Birmingham Campaign, and of the Civil Rights movement in general.

 

Smith’s voice booms, emulating the resounding stature of King the orator. She scribbles and erases as she speaks, as if composing the letter in the present. Arguing a case for civil disobedience, King cites classical and historical examples such as that of Greek philosopher Socrates, the early Christians who defied their Roman rulers and the members of the Boston Tea Party. It’s impossible to listen to this speech, understanding its significant context, and not be persuaded by its clarion call for change – one that is still resounding today.

 

Another of the monologues is by Charlayne Hunter-Gault, who, at 19, was the first African-American woman to enroll in the University of Georgia. Smith relates her first-hand account of violent opposition to her presence in the school, downplaying the terror of the episode. Another monologue details the bleak plight of a Native-American man.

 

One of the most uplifting monologues is the penultimate one. High school principal Linda Wayman speaks vividly about her upbringing and how she devoted herself to a career in education with the goal of saving “just one” underprivileged black student from a certain life of poverty. A sympathetic observer, her passion is infectious and highly affecting. There’s some occasional humor in Smith’s idiosyncratic delivery. (Each of her speakers receives a unique interpretation.)

 

Regrettably Stephen Wadsworth’s direction is questionable. Violinist Robert McDuffie and pianist Anne Epperson provide a musical prologue, several interludes and even at times accompanying Smith as she speaks, but this layer feels superfluous. Worse is the bizarre scenic design elements by Charlie Corcoran: low metal fences that box in all three performers – the pianist, the violin player and Smith, who mostly performs while seated behind or sitting on a writing desk. Watching McDuffie step in and out of his fence-like box provokes a bemused response that feels at odds with the show’s powerful and weighty subject matter.

 

Nevertheless, Smith’s performance is instructive and moving.

 

 

The Eli & Edythe Broad Stage, 1310 11th St., Santa Monica; Sat., 7:30 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; through April 26. (310) 434-3200, www.thebroadstage.com

 

 

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