Benito Cereno

When it first opened Off-Broadway in 1965, "Benito Cereno," part of a trilogy of one-acts by poet Robert Lowell about early American history, was a smashing indictment of the tragic legacy of slavery. Based on a Herman Melville novella, the story concerns Amasa Delano, a blustering Yankee captain, and his naively nationalist bosun Perkins encountering a drifting Spanish slave ship whose white crew has mostly vanished, apparently having drowned in a recent storm or succumbed to illness. The only officer remaining is the mysteriously listless captain—the title character—who appears to be the captive of his black bondsman, the perpetually cheerful Babu. It's gradually revealed that the slaves mutinied and killed most of their captors and are now planning to force Delano to take them back to Africa.

I was too young to have seen the original production, but I did hear a recording of it. Lowell's eloquent verse was intensely delivered by a powerful cast led by Frank Langella, Roscoe Lee Browne, and Lester Rawlins, all three winning Obie Awards. In the first New York presentation since a 1976 revival, Horizon Theatre Rep fumbles with inconsistent staging and uneven acting, but the strength of Lowell's colorful dialogue does emerge at times.

Director Woodie King Jr. has some inventive ideas for the cramped basement space at the Flea Theater, with the slaves constantly sneaking around in the background as Delano and Perkins debate their new country's place in the world and their ideas about the rightful station of the black race, creating an air of tension between the two opposing forces. King also forcefully conveys the murderous rage of the captives as they perform ritualistic dances—savagely choreographed by Bruce Heath—for the visiting captain, barely disguising their anger at their oppressors. Unfortunately, the pacing is stop-and-start, impeding the buildup to the inevitable confrontation between the blacks and whites.

Arthur Bartow is unsure and hesitant as Delano, a character who needs to be bombastic and bellicose, as he symbolizes America's imperialist future. Rafael De Mussa makes an intriguingly ambiguous Benito, using a lacy fan to emphasize the character's perceived decadence in contrast to the virile, no-nonsense Americans. Jaymes Jorsling has the right idea in starkly contrasting Babu's obsequious, Uncle Tom manner with his hidden fury, but the actor pours it on a bit thickly in the climactic scene. Benjamin Thys does a competent enough job as Perkins, but he fails to offer much shading.

Ironically, the most forceful performance is delivered by Frank Mayers in the small role of King Atufal, a deposed African monarch enraged at his fallen status. Mayers subtly conveys a sense of Atufal's injured dignity and battered strength while maintaining his fearsome power, much like a wounded lion. However, this works against the central premise, as Babu is supposed to be the leader of the rebellion—a telling slip in this uneven production.
 
Presented by Horizon Theatre Rep at the Flea Theater, 41 White St., NYC. Sept. 25–Oct. 16. Thu.–Sat., 9 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m. (212) 352-3101, (866) 811-4111, www.theatermania.com, or www.theflea.org.