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Lillian Bourgois (Becky Allen) tangles with one of her daughters, Claudine (Morrey McElroy), in Southern Rep's mounting of native Louisianan Anne Galjour's dark comedy
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Mothers' Daze Okra Okra
Written by Anne Galjour
Directed by Perry Martin
Starring Becky Allen, Tiffany Carr Rieveschl
8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday, May 26-28; 3 p.m. Sunday, May 29; through June 5
Southern Rep Theatre, The Shops at Canal Place, third floor, 333 Canal St., 522-6545; www.southernrep.com
Okra may be exotic to the citizens of San Francisco. But to the folks in southwest Louisiana, the slimy little vegetable is as common as alligators. And so, Anne Galjour's Cajun comedy Okra -- currently on the boards at Southern Rep -- has a different resonance here on the Gulf Coast than it had on the Pacific Coast, where it premiered.
For instance, Perry Martin -- director of this production -- is a self-described 'coon ass' himself; he was even a classmate of Galjour's in South Lafourche High School. He sure as hell didn't have to do any research to understand how things work 'down on the bayou.'
Okra tells the story of Lillian Bourgois (Becky Allen) and her two grown daughters, Marie (Tiffany Carr Rieveschl) and Claudine (Morrey McElroy). Lillian is a feisty matriarch with a cornucopia of a medicine cabinet. But her most debilitating complaint is not physical; she suffers from a terminal case of casino-itis. She is mad for gambling -- it helps her forget her troubles.
Daughter Marie takes care of the house. In particular, she does the cooking. Like her mama, Marie has an obsession: rooster-phobia. Now, there is another word for a male chicken. But, if I were to use it in describing this phobia, Doctor Freud would turn over in his grave. Of course -- as the stogy-smoking doctor once told a class of snickering students -- 'Gentlemen, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.'
Still, this particular rooster's symbolic possibilities are insistent. For one thing, the creature attacked Marie and 'dug his spur into her leg.' For another, the rooster is directly linked to Marie's romantic life. Antoine Broussard (Troy Poplous), a neighbor, is courting Marie. As a chivalrous gesture, he offers to catch the bird and wring its neck.
Complicating matters in this high-strung household is the arrival of a French cousin, Henri Richard (Randy Maggiore). Henri is a history teacher from Calais. He's come to visit. Marie -- hearing the rooster crow -- goes berserk, hides in a closet and beats Henri over the head with a stale loaf of bread, because she think he's the rooster coming to attack her again. I mean, this country girl is seriously terrified of barnyard fowl.
Broad comic dustups of this sort are sprinkled through more weighty complications, like whether the daughters in this wry Cajun 'House of Bernarda Alba' will have mama declared non compos mentis so they can keep their inheritance from disappearing into the slot machines.
The actors give lively, committed performances, and the opening-night audience seemed to enjoy the down-home, crab-boil-flavored knockabout. Becky Allen fans will be pleased to see her nibs in an unaccustomed persona. She plays the harassed Lillian straight (if such a thing can be said of comedy).
The set by John Mayne and costumes by Cecile Case Covert are fit and befitting.
In short, Okra is long on charm, and should prove a crowd pleaser. Although, I did find the world portrayed -- despite its charm, or maybe because of it -- somewhat unconvincing.
Family traumas also got a working over, recently, in Jomo Kenyatta-Bean's Ain't Nothin' But the Blues, which received its premiere production from Ethiopian Theater Company at the Sojourner Truth Community Center on Galvez Street.
Here, again, we had the story of a mother and daughter. Mama Lou (Deborah Smith) is blind. She lost her sight 10 years ago due to a genetic disease. Her daughter, Angela (Drena Clay), is raising two kids that she had out of wedlock. Mama Lou detests the father, a man known as 'Slick' Johnson (played by playwright Kenyatta-Bean). Johnson deserted Angela 10 years ago and has never been heard from since, until he suddenly shows up unannounced.
The play follows his attempt to win over the affections of the children and their mother. As it turns out, Johnson was married all along. He explains that his wife (now paralyzed from the waist down) had been assaulted by his (now former) friend. Johnson strangled the man with his bare hands -- and had a sexual climax in the midst of this violence. Johnson has spent the last 10 years in prison. He could not bring himself to write Angela or call her. There's a heavy dose of drama in this drama, including a hint that the disease that took the mother's sight may now take the daughter's. Bean plans to do more work on the script. Nothin' But the Blues showed potential, but some fine-tuning would not be wasted effort.
