Theatre UCF’s “Octoroon”
is ambitious in its scope but sometimes gets stuck between silliness and seriousness, Matthew J. Palm writes.
One wonders what several latecomers thought when they arrived at “An Octoroon” just in time to see a black actor in whiteface makeup put a straw into a bottle of vodka — and start chugging. At least they were seated before the large Disney-esque rabbit costumed character made his appearance.
“An Octoroon,” onstage at the University of Central Florida, is a complicated beast. Even describing it takes work. Playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins has re-created and adapted a 19th-century melodrama while simultaneously critiquing its use of racial stereotypes and commenting on the nature of theater today.
It’s a lot to ask of a production, and while Theatre UCF gets various elements right in different moments, it rarely gets every nuance in sync at the same time. Director David Reed’s student cast seems stuck hovering between silliness and seriousness without fully committing in either direction when the script calls for it.
To be fair, Jacobs-Jenkins leaves the audience somewhat unsatisfied, as well — he never presents the denouement of the melodrama, which despite its clichés is compelling. It concerns a nefarious Southerner who commits murder and fraud to get his hands on a plantation and its slaves, including a female “octoroon,” a person who is one-eighth black and therefore property.
But Jacobs-Jenkins keeps things interesting by tweaking races, even as they portray stereotypes: A white actor plays a drunken Indian in redface; an Asian actor plays a lazy black character; and there’s black actor Arius West, in whiteface, playing the villain and the hero of the story.
West also gives a strong performance as the playwright in a prologue (that’s when the vodka-chugging comes in). The costumed rabbit, by the way, is Br’er Rabbit of the Southern folk tales — one infamously involving a “tar baby.” Having him silently observe the proceedings never quite clicks here.
What does work: a pair of sassy house slaves who speak in contemporary slang. Reva Stover and Waneka Leary boost the energy and humor every time they take the stage with their cries of “Girrrrllll…”
Though the melodrama has serious moments, Jacobs-Jenkins has designed it to be almost farcical. Yet audience members on opening night were left unsure whether they should be laughing — a deadly situation. Perhaps, though, the uncertainty simply highlights what JacobsJenkins wants his audience to consider: Why do we remain so uncomfortable around questions of race?