But somethin’ in me knew what I was made of. Not cuz nothin’ was promised to me or cuz I could see the light at the end of the tunnel or no shit like that. I was scared shitless but somethin’ in me knew I was gonna survive.
Once you shame your mama and turn up with a fast tail, you got to be put out and ain’t no lookin’ back. She and Dez-whom she jokingly beckons to “bow down and lick the dust off my Tims”-have a conversation over a game of cards, and she tells the story of her early pregnancy, an older woman giving the young kid a bit of perspective: She opens up especially when she’s flouting rules. “Been this way over fifty years, don’t see why I gotta change now,” she says. Faye’s funny and bawdy, openly queer and never afraid to talk some shit and smoke a cigarette, those rule-ridden signs be confounded. She’s a union leader, undisguisedly admired by her young co-workers Dez (Joshua Boone) and Shanita (Chanté Adams). There are notes on the food in the fridge and, on the walls, big flyers sharing meeting times and picking disciplinary nits.įaye (Phylicia Rashad) is the tough, wisecracking matriarch of the space. If you’ve had a job whose paycheck you appreciated but whose particulars you could take or leave, you know this kind of scene. The setting is a dowdily crowded break room at an automotive stamping plant in Detroit. Fuelled on the diesel of ardent chitchat, this play moves and purrs and swerves and does its humane thing, teaching its audience how to keep up as it goes. Everyday complaints-those absolutely necessary companions to repetitive work-grasp toward, and often reach, an earthy philosophy. Side comments grow into rafts of rhetoric. As Morisseau’s characters think, they speak in eloquent earfuls, and, in speaking, they push themselves and one another toward crises and discoveries that can be resolved only by yet more talk. Friedman), stakes out ground that’s viable only in the theatre: the piece offers hope-and a kind of proof-that conversation carried out seriously is its own undeniable action. Bristling and jumping and speeding forward with skillful talk, “Skeleton Crew,” the new play by Dominique Morisseau, directed by Ruben Santiago-Hudson for Manhattan Theatre Club (on Broadway, at the Samuel J.
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