Detroit in the incendiary “long, hot summer of 1967” is the setting for Dominique Morisseau’s Detroit ’67 which opened on Friday evening at Clarence Brown Theatre’s Carousel Theatre. While that summer was defined by racial tensions and riots in a number of American cities, Detroit’s violence exceeded all others in its destruction of life and property. Growing from years of police and governmental corruption and abuse directed toward the black community, riots began as a result of a police raid on an after-hours bar in the 12th Street neighborhood. The violence lasted five days, resulting in 43 deaths and several thousand businesses destroyed.
With smoldering unrest ready to burst into flames, the reality of Detroit ‘67 is not in the streets or alleyways of Detroit, but rather in the relative safety of an unfinished basement room in the house of brother and sister, Langston (Lank) and Michelle (Chelle), a space they use as an unlicensed after-hours bar run for the purposes of putting Michelle’s son through college. In that room, however, Lank and Chelle have their own personal unrest, a battle of differing aspirations for life—and differing views of personal relationships.
Also contrasting with the unrest on the streets is the play’s relative safety of Motown music of the late 60s, heavily referenced in the dialog and used as underpinning, segue, and allusion. As the play opens, Chelle is seen working on the basement bar decorations and fighting with a familiar 45 RPM record player that insists on skipping at an inopportune time in the Temptations’ “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg.” When Lank promotes his new acquisition for the basement, an 8-track player and cassettes, Chelle wants nothing to do with it, setting up a battle between her grounding in the solidity of the present, with his desire for something more in life.
Occupying the middle ground on one side is their friend Bunny, who promotes their after-hours enterprise. On the other is Lank’s friend, Sly, a would-be-partner in a plan to purchase a legitimate bar. Adding still another odd complication to the mix is Caroline, a young white woman that Lank and Sly discover beaten and dazed on the side of the road. Knowing that they cannot take her to a hospital, they bring her down to Lank and Chelle’s basement for first aid and recovery. When violence does break out in the streets, the destruction becomes personal and hard choices have to be made if life is to go on.
Directed by Lisa Gaye Dixon with gratifying leaps between lyrical and dramatic moments, this production of Detroit ’67 is marked by some absolutely riveting and confident performances from the five member cast. In the role of Chelle is Dee Dee Batteast, who vividly captures her character’s defensive struggles with change and pulls the audience along on her roller coaster ride of reluctance. Gerrard James gives his Lank the fire and energy of unresolved ambition, wearing the anxiety like a cloak. Along with this anxiety, though, comes a sense of humanity, revealed in his developing relationship with Caroline. CBT MFA actor Jade Arnold gave a stunning performance as Sly, elevating what could have been a sidekick role to one rich with emotional dimensions. Also a CBT MFA actor, Aleah Vassell radiated a delicious physicality as the sexy and sensual Bunny, who is also called upon to provide a lot of wise-cracks and snappy comic retorts. In a character that is, admittedly, ambiguous at best, Brittany Marie Pirozzoli gave the role of Caroline an admirable layer of nuance in speech and movement that provided depth in the play’s unmistakable shallow end of the pool.
Scenic designer Katherine Stepanek provided an easy to navigate basement room, full of clutter and delicious details, many of which are written into the script. Pushing at an energetic angle against the audience seating in the Carousel, Stepanek’s space is both spacious and confining simultaneously. Jordan Vera’s lighting, too, walked a tightrope between gloomy and party-time in the basement. John Merritt’s costumes hit the period and the characters smack on, that is, if one is able to remember the 60s. Sound designer Chandler Oppenheimer cleverly gave the integration of 60s Motown into the fabric of the play a modern designer’s touch.
The play’s downside is that Morisseau has constructed a dramatic vehicle that depends on the characters working through a plot held together by painfully obvious contrivances and often offering the slimmest of explanations to back up the character motivations. On the other hand, this allows thrilling performances, such as from this cast, to burn quite brightly.