"America ain't shit," declares Big Mama, not the matriarch of Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" but the African-American pillar of a decidedly different Southern family and community in Katori Hall's "Hurt Village." Big Mama, played with blazing intensity by Tonya Pinkins, makes this searing indictment of her country when she learns that because of her low-paying job as a cleaning woman at the V.A. hospital, her family makes too much money to qualify for Section 8 housing. She gets this stunning information not soon after receiving a notice of eviction from her current residence, the titular Memphis project, which is being demolished to make way for exorbitantly priced condominiums, mostly for "white folks." It's a high-tension scene, built up to with just the right amount of momentum by Hall and director Patricia McGregor, and it provides a dynamic Act 1 curtain. But it seems more like a political statement than a slice of real life.
In this vein, some of the vignettes are preceded by supertitles, projected on David Gallo's appropriately chaotic set, that make ironic reference to American institutions such as the Pledge of Allegiance and the Emancipation Proclamation. Hall, best known for "The Mountaintop," her West End and Broadway hit about the last days of Martin Luther King Jr., has created a vibrant community struggling to overcome poverty ("Folks round here so po' we can't even afford the 'r' at the end," one character quips), drugs, crime, and the institutional racism imposed by the "second Bush dynasty." But there are myriad confusing plot threads, some remaining unresolved, and too many of the characters come across as representatives of a condition or a point of view rather than flesh-and-blood individuals. Unfortunately, Hall's work suffers by comparison with Kirsten Greenidge's "Milk Like Sugar," recently presented at Playwrights Horizons, which covers similar territory from a more ambiguous perspective and also featured Pinkins as a domineering mother figure.
In another common link with "Milk Like Sugar," "Hurt Village" centers on an adolescent girl facing a difficult future. Here it's a 13-year-old named Cookie, who gets good grades and has ambitions to become a rapper or a flight attendant, seeing either occupation as a means to escape from her threadbare environment. Her father, Buggy, Big Mama's grandson, has just returned from a tour of duty in Iraq plagued by nightmares of combat and a dependence on painkillers. Her mother, the well-named Crank, a recovering addict, wants nothing to do with Buggy and takes out her anger on Cookie. When Buggy returns to his old occupation of dealing drugs so that the family will have a roof over their heads, a deadly confrontation is set up with the local kingpin Tony C. (That basic situation is a trifle familiar.) Several other neighbors, friends, and lovers hover around the edges and express themselves in tangy, flavorful dialogue, energetically performed by an enthusiastic cast and explosively directed by McGregor.
Joaquina Kalukango fully inhabits the little girl in Cookie as well as the wise woman she has the potential to become. Marsha Stephanie Blake captures Crank's rage while also finding her smothered tenderness. Blake movingly delivers a monologue in which Crank goes back on drugs and reveals her hidden love for Cookie. Unfortunately, the speech makes it seem as if Crank is committing suicide, and then she shows up in the next scene as if nothing has happened. Corey Hawkins is effective in conveying Buggy's uncertainty and fear, but he's unconvincing as a worthy adversary for Ron Cephas Jones' seriously scary Tony C. Saycon Sengbloh and Lloyd Watts stand out in supporting roles.
Presented by and at Signature Theatre, 480 W. 42nd St., NYC. Feb. 27–March 25. Tue.–Fri., Sun., 7:30 p.m.; Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 2 p.m. (212) 244-7529 or www.signaturetheatre.org. Casting by Telsey + Company.