Tar 

Reviewed by Neal Weaver 
Playwrights’ Arena 
Extended through July 9 

RECOMMENDED 

It’s Los Angeles in 1939. Count Basie and his band are scheduled to play at the Palomar Ballroom — one of the first African-American groups to perform there. Next door, at Bimini Baths, two employees, African-American Amen (Noel Arthur) and Mexican-American Zenobio (Adrian Gonzalez) have been given the onerous job of cleaning up the tar-covered body of a drunken white man who has tumbled into the La Brea Tar Pits. Playwright Tom Jacobson has laid the groundwork for a host of racial conflicts before a word is spoken. 

As the two men scrub the tar-covered figure down with kerosene, they discuss ways of getting in to see Basie at the Palomar, which does not admit blacks or Latinos. Slowly the man, (Tim Meinelschmidt), whose name is Donald, regains consciousness. A xenophobic German-American, he immediately proves intransigent. Amen, a former Pullman Porter turned actor, enjoys baiting him, whereas Zenobio tries to play peacemaker. Eventually they learn that Donald’s wife has died that very day, and their suspicions are aroused. Did he kill his wife? Was she unfaithful? And was it with a black man?

When Zenobio finds a shocking piece of evidence in the pocket of Donald’s tar-covered pants, these suspicions seem confirmed.  And as the conflicts mount, there may be dark secrets in Amen’s past as well.

Tar is part of Jacobson’s trilogy, The Ballad of Bimini Baths, which explores the issue of race in Los Angeles history. But it is also a free-standing work in its own right, one that takes a probing look at the myriad ways that racial prejudice and hatred color the whole fabric of contemporary life.

Director Edgar Landa marshals his cast with a sure hand on Justin Huen’s tiled bathhouse set, and there is solid work by all three of the actors. As Donald, Meinelschmidt bristles with anger and malice, while Arthur’s Amen reveals an anarchic streak that drives him to probe the limits of any situation. And Gonzalez is ever pained and fearful, willing the violence to cease and go away. 

Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Avenue, L. A.; Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 4 p.m.; Mon,, 8 p.m.; Extended through July 9.  www.playwrightsarena.org or (800) 838-23006. Running time: 65 minutes with no intermission.