by Mike Hoban
Black Light – Original Songs by Jomama Jones. With Bobby Halvorson, Laura Jean Anderson, Dylan Meek, Josh Quat. Additional Music by Samora Pinderhughes, Tariq Al-Sabir; Costume Design by Oana Botez; OBERON Lighting Design by Justin Paice; OBERON Sound Design; Alex Giorgetti. Presented by theAmerican Repertory Theater (A.R.T.) at Oberon, 2 Arrow Street, Cambridgethrough September 29
“What if I told you it’s going to be alright?, asks Jomama Jones, the glamorous and statuesque star of Black Light at the opening of her compelling and entertaining cabaret style piece now playing at Oberon. If you’re one of those folks who sometimes wakes in the morning wondering whether or not you (and all of us) ARE going to be alright, Jomama and Black Light may be just the diversion you’re looking for. Employing a diverse list of original R&B, disco and pop songs that sounds like they could have been lifted from a 1970’s episode of Soul Train, and mixing in stories from her childhood that are initially hilarious but ultimately moving, this is a show that moves beyond simple entertainment and touches the realm of the spiritual.
Jomama Jones (whose first name is a clever nod to the urban insult game, “Yo Mama”) is the alter ego of Daniel Alexander Jones, a biracial 6’6” male performer who rocks the half-dozen sequined gowns he dons throughout the course of the 90 minute piece, but this is no drag show. The opening number, ‘Black Light’ kicks off the musical selections off with a jangly disco guitar riff, and Jomama and her equally heavily sequined backup singers (Trevor Bachman and Clarissa Marie Ligon, whom she refers to as “the Vibrations”) stationed under a single spot, leading one to think, yup, drag show. But Jones soon takes Black Light in a surprisingly non-confrontational political direction that gives the show some real weight and meaning.
The content of the show is not overtly radical, so if you’re politically moderate and concerned that you’re going to be subjected to a barrage of polarizing dogma that some well-intentioned but self-righteous activists are employing these days, don’t worry. While it may not be a place where your Fox News-watching uncle will be comfortable (he would have walked out before anyone opened their mouths anyway), most of the commentary is delivered in the form of story and slyly told cabaret jokes rather than with a raised fist. Which isn’t to say that Jones pulls punches about the severity of the issues we face both today and in the past, particularly during her heartfelt stories. There’s a clear sense of just how much trouble this country is in, “no matter where you are on the political spectrum,” she tells the audience. But she also offers hope, sounding a lot more in song like Marvin Gaye or the Isley Brothers than say, NWA or the Sex Pistols. So there’s a lot of aspirational thinking in her messaging, and in a nod to both her high school science teacher and George Clinton and P-Funk, a large dose of astronomical references to things like black holes and supernovas as well.
As much fun as the 70’s styled songs are (and a big shout out to the killer band too), it is her storytelling ability that separates this piece from ordinary cabaret shows. She certainly knows how to work the crowd, making the audience feel both welcomed and slightly uncomfortable as she flirts and jokes with the patrons at the Oberon tables. But it is the longer form stories, broken into segments between songs, that provide the real depth to Black Light. In one, she tells the story of how she and her high school rival Tamika, while fighting over the mythical affections of Prince, carve up the body parts they wish to claim with a sharpie on his classic underwear poster before the wise science teacher Miss Stutt schools her on the evils of objectification. And in the evening’s most affecting piece, she talks about her Aunt Cleotha with the withered arm. She at first she makes fun of her and describes the stern treatment she and her siblings received from Cleotha as children, before revealing a horrific tale of racial injustice that details why the price of freedom is constant vigilance.
Despite the undercurrent of despair that haunts our country and flows throughout Black Light, it has a hugely buoyant feel to it, driven by the solid score and Jomama’s reassuring manner that everything may be alright after all. It’s well worth seeing, but after telling a number of friends that they shouldn’t miss it, it turns out that the rest of the run may be sold out, although there may be standby tickets available for a few lucky patrons. For more information, go to: https://americanrepertorytheater.org/shows-events/black-light/
