Not many actors can stand on stage for 90+ minutes and talk with just a few sips of water – all the while keeping an audience mesmerized. Yet that’s exactly what Steven Anthony Jones does in August Wilson’s theatrical memoir How I Learned What I Learned.
As directed by former TheatreWorks Silicon Valley artistic director Tim Bond, an acclaimed interpreter of Wilson’s works, How I Learned is as mesmerizing as anything you’ll see on a Broadway stage. It runs through Feb. 3 at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts.
..shares the stage with a table, a chair & a gigantic wall of red bricks…
Co-conceived by Todd Kreidler, the show is a wondrous gift to Peninsula theatregoers who have the opportunity to see it. That’s because it forcefully relates so many difficult, lonely and unfair experiences that people like poor, black, uneducated Wilson experienced growing up after his family came to the United States.
Steven Anthony Jones at work in Palo Alto.
“My mom came to Pittsburg in 1937,” Jones recalls, in Wilson’s voice. August, the fourth of six children, was born in 1945, and was immediately saddled with the “unfortunate circumstance” of being born black. “I was supposed to be white! I got that from Clarence Thomas,” he jests.
Wilson’s works examine the American condition, which is why he’s been referred to as theater’s poet of Black America. All the pain and suffering that both he and his family before him bore is clearly visible in his series of 10 plays collectively called The Pittsburgh Cycle. They include such award-winning plays as Fences, The Piano Lesson, and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.
Jones is a short, somewhat pudgy man who, as Wilson, hobbles around a bit on stage. As he meanders here and there, he doffs a beret, perches on a desk, sometimes turning his back on the audience for a second or two before winking and then continuing on an autobiographical journey.
This is his fourth time performing in Wilson’s one-man show since 2019. Over the years it’s obvious that what he says and does on stage has become more nuanced, more human, more real.
Jones shares the stage with a table, a chair and a gigantic wall of red bricks reaching high into the rafters. That wall is where a word or three appear up high – propelling him to segue into another story, another vignette, another unfairness.
Growing up, August had a few good friends he’d hang around with – friends that he’d stay close to all his life. But he clearly emphasizes that he’s his “mother’s son,” and she told him he had to get a job after school to help out with the family’s expenses. He endured many experiences of prejudice and unfairness, to the point where he’d finally quit a job rather than be treated that way. “Something is not always better than nothing,” he declares, once again quitting a job rather than being accused of something he didn’t do.
The takeaways are many in this 95+ minute presentation of Wilson’s life and literary evolution into becoming one of American’s most celebrated and influential playwrights. Equally telling are his observations on what it means to be a black writer and artist in the 20th century.
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Aisle Seat Executive Reviewer Joanne Engelhardt is a Peninsula theatre writer and critic. She is a voting member of the SF Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle (SFBATCC). Contact: [email protected]
There was an article in the Wall Street Journal a few weeks back reporting that there were more Tennessee Williams theater festivals and events sliding in between similar Shakespeare happenings than ever before. That’s a good thing, to be sure. Yet there is no doubt Mr. August Wilson will be joining those illustrious ranks soon.
Mr. Wilson exploded onto the American theater scene with critically acclaimed plays such as Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom and Joe Turner’s Come and Gone, as well as Fences (1987 Tony Award, New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award, Drama Desk Award, and the Pulitzer Prize) and The Piano Lesson (1990, Pulitzer Prize).
Mr. Wilson’s command of the black experience in twentieth-century America is second-to-none. His talent for shaping dialog is unquestioned. His characters are realistic, genuine, and thoughtfully rendered while his choice of language is exacting and considered. His plays, including this one, often deal with themes of community loyalty and commitment, to fair play and justice.
Two Trains Running is Mr. Wilson’s seventh effort in his ten-part series of plays entitled The Pittsburgh Cycle. The play was first produced by the Yale Repertory Theatre in New Haven, Connecticut, and later opened on Broadway in the spring of 1992 at the Walter Kerr Theatre.
The play gives us a complex story based on the lives of ordinary people, a volatile turning point in American history. The location is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the racially charged world of 1969. Mr. Memphis Lee’s threadbare cafe is a regular stop for neighborhood folks all trying to understand the cultural maelstrom of the late 1960s. The regulars do their best to come to an accommodation with the swirling tides of change, but not always with the results they intended.
As the play begins, the city block on which Mr. Memphis’s diner is located is due to be torn down in a city renovation project. One of Mr. Memphis’ regular customers is the rich undertaker whose business is located across the street from the diner. The undertaker urges Mr. Memphis to accept his offer to buy the cafe, but his price is unacceptable to the stoic Mr. Memphis. He’s been swindled out of property before and he’s determined to stand his ground this time and get what he thinks his property is worth.
Another regular to the café is Sterling, a petty ex-con just out of the penitentiary with big dreams for his future. Then there’s Wolf, a bookie, a hustler (in the survival sense of the word) and a man-about-town. He dresses to the nine’s and is equally focused on the details of his own success.
Risa is the only female in the cast. A waitress of quiet dignity occupying the still point in this play, she has self-inflicted cuts on her legs, self-mutilation as a barrier between herself and men. Hambone is a mentally disturbed man who seeks comfort in the friendship shown him by Risa. He speaks infrequently but when he does, it’s one variation or another of the phrase, “He gonna give me my ham. I want my ham!”
The senior character in the play is Holloway. He has seen it all and his role is steady anchor, neighborhood philosopher, and ardent proponent of a legendary 322-year-old woman prophet down the street. Although never seen, she radiates a strong influence over the actions of many of the characters in the play, and serves as a reminder of the heritage of Black Americans.
With these strong roots, Mr. Wilson grows a powerful theatrical experience and a strong history lesson for those of us not witness to Black life in 1969.
As directed by Lewis Campbell with Esperanza Catubig assisting, and rendered by the Multi Ethnic Theater Company and presented in the Gough Street Playhouse in San Francisco, Two Trains Running ran 3 hours including one intermission. The running time is important, as slowness of pacing was an issue on opening night. This play requires pacing more like everyday life, with the dynamics of neighbors talking with neighbors they’ve known for years; that is to say briskly, sometimes obliquely, with awareness of personal quirks and hot buttons, and with every intent to find or deliver a message, a joke, a jab, or a cut. The actors cast in this production are certainly more than capable of doing this sort of work, but on opening night the presentation was too muted. (Note: It was extremely hot in the theater this night and I’m sure that had an impact on the actors. I know it did on the audience.)
Fabian Herd was superb as Wolf, Vernon Medearis a study in subtlety and nuance as West (the undertaker), and Stuart Elwyn Hall every bit the oracle of Black life as Holloway. All three actors demonstrated a keen ability to do what so many actors fail at: to listen to what is being said by other actors, instead of simply waiting for their turn to speak. These gentlemen delivered acting in considered gradations, rendering layered performances which would hold them in good stead with notable theaters across this country.
The set design, that of a scruffy café so much a part of neighborhoods everywhere, was nicely done. The turquoise booths were period perfect. Unpainted plywood here-and-there emphasized a business managed with small dollars and ‘just enough’ repairs. Set construction showed care. Making a set look down-on-its-luck without making it look slapdash is harder than one might imagine. The set designer/builders (Lewis Campbell and David Hampton) pulled it off nicely.
Props were period and detailed. Even though no one in the play ate anything which required catsup, the always ubiquitous red plastic catsup dispenser appeared one-third full. The bowl of beans eaten by Hambone were appealing, as was the coffee dispensed by Risa.
Costumes were period and nicely selected (especially those for Wolf.) A bit more attention to fit would render some costumes perfect.
There is little doubt August Wilson has a ‘reserved seat’ in the pantheon of Greatest American Playwrights. Seeing Multi Ethnic Theater’s production of Two Trains Running shows why.
Two Trains Running continues through August 30th at the Gough Street Playhouse, 1620 Gough St, San Francisco, CA 94109.
Rating: Three-and-a-Half out of Five Stars
Industry Commentary…
“Vivid and uplifting… pure poetry… remarkable!”—Time
“A symphonic composition with a rich lode of humanity running through it.”—Los Angeles Times
Winner of the New York Drama Critics Circle Best Play Award
“Vivid and uplifting… pure poetry… remarkable!”—Time
“A symphonic composition with a rich lode of humanity running through it.”—Los Angeles Times
“His language is golden: rich in humor and poetry and redolent of a colorful vernacular.”—Wall Street Journal
“Has an unassailable authenticity… a lot of life and a lot of humor… By the end, a small world has been utterly transformed.”—Variety
“These characters are fully imagined—they live… reeling out stories about their past, their angers, their dreams.”—Washington Post
“Wilson’s most adventurous and honest attempt to reveal the intimate nature of history… glorious storytelling… touching and often funny… a penetrating revelation of a world hidden from view.”—Frank Rich, The New York Times
Kris Neely is a member of the San Francisco Bay Area Theater Critics Circle and a Theater Bay Area (TBA) Adjudicator.
Mr. Neely’s blogs on theater and performing arts are found on Aisle Seat Review at www.AisleSeatReview.com and also on For All Events at www.ForAllEvents.com.
Aisle Seat Executive Reviewer Joanne Engelhardt is a Peninsula theatre writer and critic. She is a voting member of the SF Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle (SFBATCC). Contact: [email protected]
