Cameron Page on Word Becomes Flesh, presented by 651 Arts, produced by the 2012 Under the Radar Festival at the Public Theater

Some plays seem, at first glance, too specific to be successful. “A series of letters to an unborn son,” for example, falls into this category.

That phrase --- taken from promotional materials for Word Becomes Flesh --- broadcasts a narrowness of theme that seems bound to alienate certain people. People uninterested in parenthood, for example (of which there are many in New York City), might think twice before buying tickets.

But that would be unfortunate. Word Becomes Flesh, an ensemble work of dance, theater, and hip-hop now playing at the Public Theater as part of the Under the Radar festival, manages to transcend its stated theme without ever leaving it.

In addition to exploring the father-unborn son relationship, the play touches on abortion, domestic violence, slavery, infidelity, and even the father-daughter relationship. In less capable hands the 80-minute production might meander or scatter. But Joseph artfully manages to connect each spoke to the hub of his theme: the challenge of fathering a black child in America.

The piece was written in 2003, when Mr. Joseph’s girlfriend became pregnant. His impending fatherhood, crashing down on him over weeks and months like a slow-motion tsunami, was the source of inspiration--- or perhaps source of stress is a better term for it --- that led to Word Becomes Flesh.

The play dwells on the tug-of-war between what one should do and what one wants to do; between the duties of fatherhood and the impulse to flee them. Joseph draws a parallel between this tension and the general condition of African-Americans today. In a moving, wordless montage, he contrasts the anxiety a black man feels inside with the tie-straightening smile he is forced to wear in public.
He seems to be telling the men in the audience: If you ever got your girlfriend pregnant, you understand what it’s like to be black in America.

There’s no shortage of anger in this play: at the crimes of history, at Joseph’s own absent father, at the myriad injustices that stack the deck against a black male before he is even born. Joseph manages the trick of expressing this anger on stage, giving full-throated voice to it, bringing it (to use one of his phrases) into “the spoken world,” without alienating the audience in the process. Rather than merely shout his anger at us, Joseph rouses in us the anger that enrages him.

But there’s no hint of self-righteousness here, because Joseph is willing to shine the harsh beam of criticism on himself too. He stares his own flaws in the face, sharing his darkest thoughts with a wincingly brutal honesty. In one of the play’s more uncomfortable moments, he confesses a dark fantasy about the mother losing the
child.

The credit for the production’s success does not all belong with Mr. Joseph. The ensemble is uniformly strong, with an impressive range of dancing and acting abilities throughout. Although Word Becomes Flesh was originally developed as a monologue, the two- and five-man dance pieces, with their muscular yet smooth choreography, now seem integral to the work.

There are echoes here of Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf (which premiered Off-Broadway at the Public Theater in 1976). Not just the content, but the form: the ensemble is perpetually merging and splitting, joining together as a group and then addressing the audience
individually. Each nameless actor seems to have his own story, but each of these stories represents a facet of the author’s self: the faithless lover, the greedy trickster, the gentle partner.

In one of the most stomach-churning sections of this “evening-length choreopoem” (another homage to Shange?), the ensemble transforms itself into a motley clump of deformed, demented half-wits. Bathed in red as though writhing their way up from hell, they tell the history of the world as a cynical marriage between racism and capitalism. It’s gripping, insightful, and somehow funny at the same time.

Any writer will tell you that greatness is in the details. Marc Bamuthi Joseph’s “letters to his unborn son” are full of specific details, and you don’t have to be a parent, or even plan to havechildren, to be enriched by them.




Word Becomes Flesh

presented Presented in Association with 651 ARTS

Conceived and Directed by Marc Bamuthi Joseph / The Living Word Project (Oakland)

through January 15th

for more info: http://www.undertheradarfestival.com/index.php?p=472

Cameron Page is a playwright and non-fiction writer. He lives in Crown Heights.