Racism and real estate have always had a volatile relationship in the USA. Segregated neighborhoods have been a fact of life in most American cities and towns, with the divisions supported by laws and covenants that expressed the prejudiced feelings of the majority white population. Thanks to civil-rights legislation, most of the laws and covenants have been repealed, but the racism remained in place, making it hard for people of color to break out of their ghettoes.
Many plays have been written about a black family daring to buy a house in an otherwise upscale, all-white neighborhood, a case in point being Barbara Morgan's American Tract, which had its world premiere in L.A. three years ago. Now, following in Morgan's footsteps, comes Clybourne Park, a comedy by Bruce Norris that was first produced off-Broadway (in 2010) by Playwrights Horizon, then was seen in England where it won the Olivier Award for Best Play. A Pulitzer Prize for Drama followed.
The much-lauded Clybourne park will return to New York (Broadway, this time) after its current run at the Mark Taper Forum.
At the risk of being called churlish, I must confess that I had big problems with the play, starting with its lack of originality. Poking fun at "liberal" white people desperately trying to cover up their prejudices toward black people might have seemed fresh and daring thirty years ago; today it comes off as old hat, stereotypical.
Much has been made of the play’s connection to A Raisin in the Sun; in Lorraine Hansberry's 1959 drama the Younger family is trying to summon up the courage to buy a house in the lily-white Chicago suburb of Clybourne Park. Norris sets the first act of his play in the very same area (circa 1959), with the focus on a white family that has sold its house to a black couple, an act that raises the ire of local friends and clergy.
In act two, Norris jumps ahead to 2009 and asks us to believe that the same house has now become blighted and abandoned, even though the rest of Clybourne Park is inhabited by well-heeled blacks who are hyper-conscious of real estate values. These same folks take exception to a young white couple who wish to buy the house and tear it down, putting up a McMansion in its place.
The switch allows Norris to once again satirize black/white relations with lots of jibes and jokes, most of them on the rude, crude side. Audiences and critics alike have found Clybourne Park to be provocative and daring; I, however, was underwhelmed and disappointed by the play.
This isn't to fault the actors -- they delivered skilful, snappy performances. Same goes for the direction and production, which were first-rate. Wish I had something better to say about Norris, but I find it hard to get excited by a playwright who thinks it's the height of courage to poke fun at a deaf woman.
