Month: August 2023

For years Catherine has taken care of her father (Robert) a mathematical genius, who’s cognitive abilities have been seriously impaired, and propensity for manic episodes all too frequent. Catherine’s dad has passed over, leaving her to process their years together, their shared connection of mathematics, being ambushed by sister Clare to move from her home. Added to the mix is Hal, a protege of Robert’s and an erstwhile romantic interest. Neither Clare nor Hal have a grasp of Catherine’s struggles or how to help.

Written by David Auburn, {proof} takes a long, pensive look at Catherine’s life with her dad, the warmth and closeness and frustrations and patience. We wonder if Robert, who most emphatically was not self-absorbed, understood his daughter might very well be a prodigy, herself. {proof} raises several issues. How do we grapple with the possibility we might inherit a destructive, painful mental illness? Do the people closest to Catherine assume she couldn’t be her dad’s equal, simply because she’s female? Catherine doesn’t reveal her brilliance, but why is this a blind spot? Why do they need to be convinced? Why must greater minds genuflect at the altar of ignorance and misogyny? Why does Catherine owe anyone an explanation?

Catherine’s most salient quality is her anger. The world keeps imposing solutions that won’t actually heal or alleviate her suffering. She’s been a devoted daughter, doing everything possible to nurture and support her father, while a parade of acolytes have lived in a spare room, kowtowing. Her value has been eclipsed by her dad. A dad who always respected and appreciated her. Auburn chooses the title: “{proof}”, a mathematical exercise, but also as a way of describing the supposed contingency of Catherine’s brilliance. So much easier to dismiss her as petulant or scrappy.

Auburn explores Catherine’s life and struggles, while avoiding recognizable feminist rhetoric. He considers how subtly culture indoctrinates, by tacit presumption and encoded behavior. A particular scene suggests Catherine won’t pursue her own vocation (or pick up the torch?) until Robert can no longer go forward. It’s the responsibilities she’s saddled with, and the sad understanding that if she’d been Robertson’s son, no one would insult her with doubts. It’s what Hal and Clare bring to the table without even realizing it.

Allen Contemporary Theatre has taken on a difficult, understated, eloquent drama, with clarity and intelligence. The performances are strong, touching and memorable. So often I am gobsmacked by the level of sophisticated, implacable, impeccable theatre I find at ACT. Simply put, their current production of {proof} is what the best live drama is all about.

Allen Contemporary Theatre and Mikey Abrams, Realtor and Allen Americans Professional Hockey Club present {proof} playing August 18th-September 3^rd, 2023. 1210 East Main Street # 300, Allen, Texas, 75002. 844-822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net

Kenny and Logan are a couple. Kenny is an African American Baptist and Logan is Jewish. Kenny’s granddad has passed, and he wants Logan to join him, when he returns home for the funeral. Logan is understandably dubious. Kenny’s family has given him the cold shoulder before, especially his mother, who barely acknowledges his presence. But Kenny insists, believing all will work out in the end.

Kenny’s mother, Baneatta, is a steadfast Christian, and a force of nature. She’s small but she’s powerful. Prayerful, vigilant, devoted, some might even say, old school. When she sees the dress her sister, Beverly is wearing for the funeral, she doesn’t mince words, and she doesn’t use euphemisms. Her husband, Reginald, is supportive, but like many spouses, he might delicately fill in the blind spots for their better half. Beverly (Kenny’s Aunt) has got a lot of living to do. The frock in question certainly emphasizes her assets, and in a different context would certainly work to her advantage. But how many guys does she hope to pick up at a funeral? And where did she find that hat? Her teenage daughter, Latrice, is far better grounded in actuality than mom, and something of an opportunist. She isn’t shy about promoting her band or cadging a vape from Logan.

Playwright Douglas Lyons has fashioned an affectionate tribute to the whirlwind worship of the African American church service. Talk about intense love, overwhelming adulation, laser focused, unwavering faith. The loud and proud proclamations of: Amen! and That’s right! and Thank you, Jesus! put other denominations to shame. Stirring beyond measure. No room for doubt.

That being said, Lyons has created a cauldron of strong emotions and wretched excess. All the better to tickle you, my dear. Beverly, who lives to be the center of attention, waggles her tuchas, etc, at a moment’s notice, and no one seems surprised when she throws herself on the coffin. Poor Logan is lost (and too often shunned) in this throng of keening, emotional Gentiles.

I have noticed in the past, that the strongest comedies include an aspect of sadness and/or rage in the narrative. The relatively recent propensity for another Laffathon, is sloppy and clumsy strategy. Spaghetti at the wall, if you will. Logan must deal with homophobia, when he’s already a stranger in a strange land. The hurt is so unbearable Kenny must convince him not to leave. The appearance of an unwelcome congregant raises numerous issues of infidelity, and the need as a family to confront anger, wounds and betrayal, to move forward. In some ways, Chicken and Biscuits reminded me of the familial plays of Neil Simon (Brighton Beach Memoirs) and Clifford Odets (Awake and Sing). Lyons carefully explores the behavioral flaws we all share, creating the balance we find in the best.

Uptown Players presents : Chicken and Biscuits, playing July 28th-August 13th, 2023. Kalita Humphreys Theater. 3636 Turtle Creek Blvd, Dallas, Texas 75219. (214) 219-2718. uptownplayers.org