ajhlovestheatre

SKELETON CREW

by Dominique Morisseau

directed by Matthew Xia

Donmar Warehouse, London – until 24 August 2024

https://www.donmarwarehouse.com/whats-on/17/by-dominique-morisseau/skeleton-crew

“How am I going to help anyone else if I can’t help myself?” This question, posed by working class factory foreman Reggie justifying his not-always-sympathetic behaviour while the Detroit car plant he works at hurtles towards foreclosure, runs like blood flow through Dominique Morisseau’s cracking, essential drama.

Skeleton Crew premiered at New York’s Atlantic Theater in 2016, and was seen on Broadway in 2022. It now receives a stunning, note-perfect UK premiere courtesy of director Matthew Xia and a cast so in tune with the material that it’s less like watching acting than eavesdropping on a compelling slice of real life, and humanity in it’s bruised, fallible magnificence.

Morisseau’s play, the final tranche of a trio of plays entitled The Detroit Project but the only one to get a British staging so far, takes place entirely in the break room of a car plant on its uppers. Bolshy all-seeing senior worker, lesbian Faye (Pamela Nomvete, heading for another Olivier nomination if there’s any justice) is hanging in there until she has completed thirty years service whereby her severance money will increase greatly; she’s also, unbeknownst to her co-workers, homeless. The detail in Nomvete’s performance is extraordinary, from her off-hand line delivery, unwavering but not unkind stare, the total absence of self-pity and then the sloppy yet determined walk, like a woman on a difficult mission but determined not to give in.

The other characters are equally fascinating and are given performances to match. There’s pregnant Shanita (a luminous but heartcatchingly real Racheal Ofori), thrilled to be following in family footsteps and taking great pride in being a vital part of the production line (“Love the way the line needs me. Like if I step away for even a second and don’t ask somebody to mind my post, the whole operation has to stop”). Then there’s young Dez (American screen actor Branden Cook in a terrific stage debut) who has big dreams but carrying an unseen mark on his back to match the all-too-visible one on his neck. The chemistry between Ofori and Cook is a shifting, fluid but ultimately scorching thing; both young actors are utterly brilliant, making their tough but tender characters entirely sympathetic yet never giving in to easy sentiment. It’s almost shocking how much we come to care about them.

That’s also true of Reggie, party to unwelcome information about the factory’s fate and always and uneasily aware that his promotion is largely due to Faye’s influence. Tobi Bamtefa, in another devastating performance to complete this sublime quartet, invests him with authentic kindness, but leaves us in no doubt that everything he does is underpinned by an ongoing, borderline ruthless need to provide for his young family. When Reggie’s roiling rage comes to the surface it is chilling yet undeniably understandable. The four actors play together like musicians negotiating a rich, complex score, and not a single false note sounds.

Xia’s production is flawless: pacy, sensitive, dynamic but with moments of telling stillness: the silences are as revealing as the dialogue sections. Ultz’s setting, putting us right into the factory, opens up the Donmar space, exposing more brick and metalwork than usual. Literal sparks fly, steam billows, lights flash….the scene transitions are like music: clanking, dehumanising, galvanising, but music nonetheless: it’s exciting but vaguely terrifying.

The point here, I think, is it that these characters could be any one of us, in line with the old adage that many working people are just one pay check or dispute away from disaster, or as Faye puts it, “any moment any one of us could be the other. That’s just the shit about life. One minute you passin’ the woman on the freeway holdin’ up the ‘will work for food’ sign. Next minute you sleepin’ in your car.” Morisseau writes with gritty precision, but also massive heart and humour. Her love for these flawed, struggling humans, looking out for each other sometimes at personal expense, is palpable, and it rubs off on us in the audience. Her mastery of plot is subtle and gripping, and ultimately the play is deeply moving. Morisseau is known to British audiences mainly as the book writer for the Temptations musical Ain’t Too Proud seen in the West End last year, but Skeleton Crew confirms her easily as a writer of equal stature to Lynn Nottage or Katori Hall.

Affectionate yet tough, and finally supremely satisfying. This is an absolute must-see.