There’s a moment early in Lolita Chakrabarti’s Red Velvet that epitomizes much of what this intelligent, moving play is about. The scene takes place on the stage of England’s Covent Garden Theatre, not long after it’s been decided that a replacement must be found for celebrated actor Edmund Kean, who has collapsed onstage and can no longer play Othello. Conversation among other actors is interrupted when the man chosen for the part — Ira Aldridge, an African American — appears and enthusiastically declares his readiness to begin. As he does, two actors – Charles Kean (Edmund’s son) and Bernard Warde – turn their backs on the imposing newcomer and refuse him a look or word. Their message is unmistakable: They won’t give a black man the honor of their attention. He has no place in the world of English theater. He’s not even worthy of a glance.
Red Velvet Credit: Thee Photo Ninja
That all this is communicated without loud racist protestations is one of the great strengths of Red Velvet, currently on stage in a first-rate production at freeFall Theatre. Don’t expect thrilling arguments about equity and justice in this surprisingly restrained drama, based on real events of the 19th century: Much of what Chakrabarti has to say about race prejudice is communicated in gestures, grimaces, the reluctance of a white actress to let a black actor touch her. (The wise and knowing direction is by Christopher Rutherford.) Yes, there are moments when race is explicitly discussed, but for the most part Red Velvet expects us to understand much more than anyone says. When actress Ellen Tree has difficulty speaking directly to Aldridge, we immediately interpret: She’s afraid of his exotic blackness. When a character worries that Aldridge’s Othello has been too rough with his Desdemona, we immediately interpret: He thinks descendants of Africans lack self-control. Again and again, it’s the unsaid that indicts all the whites who disdain Aldridge, and that makes his grab at greatness in Victorian England a long shot. Watching him struggle is like watching all victims of prejudice anywhere at any time: women, gays, Jews, Irish, Mexicans, (and recently in America, Muslims). It’s not easy to beat a bad rap when your accuser is the whole society.
Still, Aldridge, marvelously played by Jose Rufino, gives success a real try. Rufino’s Aldridge is a charismatic actor with a formidable stage presence, seemingly unfazed by the race hatred he’s no doubt faced throughout his career. In those few minutes during which we get to see Aldridge as Othello, Rufino’s performance is especially potent: This is inspired Shakespeare, so much so that we don’t want it to stop. Rufino also permits us — without announcing that he’s doing so — to ponder the difference between 1830s Aldridge, when the British theater world looks conquerable, and 1860s Aldridge, when he’s reduced to a dressing room in Poland. The former is expansive; the latter, irascible. In fact, the real Aldridge became a beloved actor in Poland and Russia, but Chakrabarti won’t let us forget that he had his biggest chance at Covent Garden — and that Eastern Europe and beyond were a kind of consolation prize.
Red Velvet Credit: Thee Photo Ninja
Part of the problem in this telling is his Desdemona — the actress Ellen Tree, played complexly by Britta Ollmann as a soul whose intellectual courage eventually outruns her bigotry. It’s a pleasure to watch Ollmann quietly (so much of this production avoids fanfare) contend with her own ignorance until she’s willing to accept her fellow thespian’s full humanity. Unfortunately, as a petite white woman apparently strangled onstage by a black man, Tree added to Aldridge’s troubles. And overcoming ignorance isn’t noticeably possible for Charles Kean, played with a wicked nervousness by Matt Lunsford. Aldridge does have one strong partisan — Covent Garden manager Pierre LaPorte, acted vividly by Douglas S. Hall — as well as an amoral detractor in actor Warde, capably portrayed by Joe D. Lauck. In smaller parts, Edward Lewis French, Megan Therese Rippey, and Amy Dawn Rufino turn in admirable work. (But why has the author given Aldridge’s wife, played by Rippey, so little stage time?) Eric Davis’s fine set is backed by a huge portrait of Edmund Kean as Othello as well as a blown-up theater bill from the Victorian era, and Amy J. Cianci’s period costumes are handsomely convincing. The expressive lighting is by Ryan E. Finzelber.
Aldridge died in Lodz, Poland in 1867, and was afforded a grand state funeral. One hundred fifty years later, he’s alive and well on the freeFall stage, and I recommend that you make his acquaintance. Don’t expect a lot of rousing speeches, though; this is an unusually suggestive drama that rewards close attention.
And that’s just what it deserves.
Mark E. Leib's theater criticism for CL has won seven awards for excellence from the Society for Professional Journalists. His own plays have been produced Off-Broadway and in Chicago, Cambridge, Edinburgh, and the Tampa Bay Area. He is a Continuing Instructor at USF, and has an MFA in Playwriting from the Yale School of Drama, where he won the CBS Foundation Prize in Playwriting.
Red Velvet
Four of five stars
freeFall Theatre, 6099 Central Ave., St. Pete.
Through March 26: Wed. and Thurs., 7 p.m.; Fri. and Sat., 8 p.m.; and Sat. and Sun., 2 p.m.
