Gem of the Ocean

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

A lyrical symphony in full orchestration of sight, sound, thought, voices, depth, insight, and inspiration, engulfs the Space Theatre with August Wilson’s Gem of the Ocean.

Marlene Warfield as Aunt Ester and Michael Eaddy as Citizen Barlow in the Denver Center Theatre Company production of Gem of the Ocean. Photo by Terry Shapiro

“Life is a mystery.” The 250-plus-year-old Aunt Ester repeats during the play, sometimes almost as a whisper, sometimes as a direct declaration. With back bent over, and a deliberate slow-motioned walk, Marlene Warfield allows the spirit of this wise confident woman to absorb her. Representing the history of Black people from the time they were crammed into small ships to cross the Atlantic in inhumane conditions to the early 1900s, she holds the key to comprehensive depth for everyone she touches. You want Aunt Ester to live next door to you. She has eyes that see into the past, understanding the future because “life is a mystery.” Warfield gives us all of this and more.

Set in 1904 in Pittsburgh’s Hill District, Ester’s house is a house of peace, a sanctuary. Eli (Harvey Blanks) reminds everyone who enters. Protector of the house, holder of things together, bent on taking care of Ester, meticulously building a wall rather than a fence, Blanks pours strength, determination, and stability into Eli, when stability for the Blacks were hard to come by.

lack Mary (Kim Staunton) plays Ester’s cunning, sharp tongued, soft edged maid. She’s been with Ester for three years doing the cleaning, washing, cooking, and shopping. Ester needles her unmercifully, and at first, you can’t help but wonder why. It is obvious Ester appreciates Black Mary. Affectionate understanding plays between them. When Mary has had enough and speaks up for her defense, Ester smiles, walks away, musing, “It’s about time.” Wisdom shimmers.

A man comes to the door late at night. Desperate to see Ester, Eli tells him to come back Tuesday. The man won’t go away. Ester appears and he tells her he has to see her now. Staring him down, she walks back to her bedroom telling him to come back Tuesday. In the early morning hours, Eli sees the man standing across the street, waiting. This man is Citizen Barlow, magnificently endowed by Michael Eaddy; his face flooded with innocence, his eyes pleading for help, Eaddy maintains the look of want and need almost to the end when he has reason to change. He needs his soul washed. Only Ester can provide this for him, and he isn’t going away until he gets it.

Charles Weldon takes Solly Two Kings for a wild confident ride. He collects dog doo for Ester’s garden. He strides with political savvy and secret plans, but he can’t read. A letter from his sister in the South drives him to make plans to go get her and bring her to Pittsburgh. Plans go awry, He needs to go. He needs to help her, but plans fall apart. Solly Two Kings appears to know where he’s been. He just isn’t sure how to get to where he’s going.

Rutherford Selig peddles pots and pans and whatever he can find. He just got a new horse and oh, so proud. Played by Jamie Horton the only way Horton knows how, with savvy, perception, and depth of character, Selig, the only white character in the play, walks with a sense of realism, uncanny trust, political wariness, and a sense of humor floating over his persona.

Terrence Riggins stands on the opposite side of the round stage as Caesar, Black Mary’s brother. He’s the sheriff. He’s a big man. He’s important. He’s tough. Caesar lives like Caesar, mistaking law for justice, pushing bullying for power, confusing arrogance for courage. He shot a boy once for stealing a loaf of bread. He was justified, and he’ll tell you so. It is against the law to steal. Riggins commands the stage as Caesar. You can’t help but wonder what happened to his compassion, and then with boisterous tones rattling his voice, Caesar tells us.

Many years ago a part of us decided the black people in Africa were sub human, determining they’d make perfect slaves. Many years ago a part of us decided we could crowd them into ships, sail them across the waters to work the plantations in the South.

Directed by Israel Hicks, this amazing cast of artistic actors who have all played at the Denver Center Company many times, provides one of the most beautiful productions ever to grace a Bonfils Complex stage. Filled with humor, intrigue, conflict, desperation, sorrow, and hope, Michael Brown designed the set, David Kay Micketson designed the costumes, Charles R. MacLeod designed the lighting, and Matthew C. Swartz designed the sound. So beautifully does everything work together, complimenting each other, underscoring each other, it is as though this team worked under the same mind. Together, all of them, individually, separate, yet connected are amazingly orchestrated into a lyrical symphony.

Although several have directed all nine of Wilson’s plays, Hicks is the only one to have directed all nine for the Denver Center Theatre Company. When the company gets the rights to Wilson’s last play, Radio Golf, you can bet Hicks will be right there. Wilson finished Radio Golf just before his untimely death last fall, the tenth and final play for the decades of the 20th Century.

When Citizen confesses a crime to Ester, begging her to wash his soul, she sends him on a trip to another town. He must find two pennies lying next to each other and bring them to her. Oh, the wisdom in her words, the wisdom in her direction, and the fun reason she sends him on this trip. The pennies take on a greater significance for Citizen then possibly even she imagined. Then again Ester seems to always be one step ahead of everyone else, including the audience.

Out of a deep-rooted painful existence arose a spirit. Bodies could be beaten and mutilated. Bodies could be sold. Bodies could be treated as a commodity to own, and disposed of when no longer able to do their job. And there arose a spirit.

Then on a piece of paper these once upon a time Africans became free, something they had to fight for, and continue to fight for. And there grew a spirit. Through gritted teeth, Solly asks, “What good is freedom if you can’t find it?”

And out of the spirit there grew an August Wilson who delved deep into the life of these once upon a time Africans, and gave us ten plays out of the decade of the 20th Century, The last play he wrote, Radio Golf, he finished just before he died. The proceeding play he wrote dived into the sea of the first decade of the 20th Century, giving us a spirit.

A spirit of Aunt Esther, who out of the pain and struggle of 257 years grew wisdom, a bridge between past and future, wrapped in brittle bones weary from a long hard history, supported by wisdom wrapped in earth defying muscle, and a heart as big as all outdoors.

“Life is a mystery.” She says. “Life is only venture. We walk with the venture. I got to remember the memories. If I forgot, it would eat me up. We have to embrace the venture.”

What we need now is an Aunt Esther. What a difference our judicial system would be like if we had an Aunt Esther to give those convicted of a crime a paper boat and take them on a ritual to the City of Bones. What a difference it would make to send our criminals on a journey to another city to find two pennies lying side by side on a sidewalk. For what reason? No reason except to give them something to do. Simplified? Maybe, but considering what the “venture” did to and for Citizen speaks volumes. A character in a play? Of course, but then we have to remember where that play came from, out of the depths of an award winning playwright who had eyes to see and ears to hear.

Combing visual, verbal, sound, set, and lights Gem of the Ocean is one of the most grippingly awesome productions ever produced by the Denver Center Theatre Company. Actors, characterizations, set, sound light work hand in glove, emphasizing, contrasting, and underscoring each other. A complete picture painted with every color of the rainbow.

All of the characters work as symbols. At the same time the characters are so well defined, so beautifully etched they come vibrantly alive as distinct separate human beings.

There were several moments during opening night when if you closed your eyes, you would think you were the only person in the theatre. There wasn’t a sound, a rustle, a breath, and a nothing. That is compelling.

The result? Down to earth everyday wisdom digging deep. How fascinating, so many of the issues faced by a part of us in 1904, we continue to face today. How intriguing, 1904 Black history speaks directly to 2006.

“Life is a mystery.”