‘Clyde’s’ – Written by Lynn Nottage. Directed by Taylor Reynolds; Scenic Designer – Wilson Chin; Costume Designer – Karen Perry; Lighting Designer – Amith Chandrashaker; Sound Designer – Aubrey Dube; Hair, Wig and Makeup Designer – Megan Ellis. Presented by The Huntington in co-production with Berkley Repertory Theatre at The Huntington, 264 Huntington Ave., Boston through April 23.
By Shelley A. Sackett
Two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Lynn Nottage has elevated that plebian lunch item — the sandwich — to A-list, Michelin star status in her Tony Award-nominated comedy, ‘Clyde’s,’ now in production at the Huntington through April 23.
Through her skilled script, imaginary recipes combining exotic and surprising ingredients will have the audience trying to remember them after the curtain falls. Glowing in its exalted status as metaphor for salvation, redemption and even tikkun olam (a Jewish concept defined by acts of kindness performed to perfect or repair the world), we will never think of the sandwich as “mere” again.
The setting (and what a set it is!) is Clyde’s, a truck stop café near Reading, PA. More than a way station for the road-weary, it is also a shelter for its four employees, all convicted felons. For the three recent arrivals who need to show a weekly paycheck to maintain parole, it is also their only shot at getting back on track after derailment. Montrellos (Harold Surratt), Clyde’s elder statesman, role model, and Zen master, supervises this crew. Under the annihilative command of Clyde (April Nixon), the owner, achieving their goal will be an uphill battle.
The play opens with Clyde and Montrellos (Monty), dressed in a bright dashiki and kufi, in mid-conversation. He begs her to taste his latest creation, a sublime twist on the grilled cheese sandwich. She blows cigarette smoke in response. Wearing a glow-in-the-dark orange waist-length wig and exterior black corset, she looks like a cross between a deranged Tina Turner imposter and an S&M dominatrix. The effect is terrifying. Instead of tasting the sandwich, she uses it to crush out her cigarette, just as she relentlessly snuffs out any hint of hope or happiness she senses smoldering.
The staff live in fear of her temper and she taunts them sadistically with threats to make up a parole violation and report them to the police. Behind the kitchen’s swinging door, without her lurking, they are free to connect and actually enjoy their work. Cautiously, they relearn how to trust, revealing what landed them in the slammer. Letitia (the talented Cyndii Johnson), a quick-witted sassy single mom, broke into a pharmacy to steal unaffordable seizure medicine for her daughter. While she was at it, she “got greedy” and helped herself to street drugs. Rafael (Wesley Guimarães), a playful recovering addict, tried to rob a bank with a BB gun while high. Jason (Louis Reyes McWilliams), Clyde’s only white employee, is covered in white supremacy tattoos and fresh out of prison for assault. His remorse and pain course through his veins. Only his tattoos are skin deep, an indelible concession he had to make in order to make it out of prison alive.
In his role as mentor, Monty is kind, sage and committed to helping his charges survive their difficult transition. Although he doesn’t reveal why he served time until the play’s end, he has clearly walked the same walk.
His trick is to find purpose in life. For him, it is his quest to create the perfect sandwich, the most “democratic of all foods.” Sandwiches can be more than the quotidian ingredients they slap between two pieces of bread for the café’s clientele, Monty counsels. They can reflect their creators’ dreams and truths. They even have the magic power to unlock the gate to their salvation. He is living proof.
The others bite, joining him on his pilgrimage. They bond over shared imaginary recipes, light-heartedly chanting ingredients like tantric mantras. After hours, each secretly works out combos that might earn Monty’s approval and, by extension, launch them toward a sense of self-worth.
Clyde doesn’t see sandwiches (or anything else) through the same rose-tinted lenses as Monty. Although she too was imprisoned, empathy and tikkun olam hardly drive her to hire only ex-cons. Rather, she uses them as cheap labor to populate her own sort of jail where she reigns as warden to these “loser” ex-prisoners who float in painful limbo between “real” prison and the ersatz one she has created.
Against great odds, and with Monty’s critical help, her employees ultimately free themselves from her grip by banding together and refusing to follow an order they just cannot abide. Although what triggers their rebellion is on its surface comedic, Nottage deftly handles this turning point moment, plumbing it for deeper beauty, poignancy, and strength. Nottage also has a gift for comedy, and under Taylor Reynold’s tight direction, her zingers are laugh-out-loud. The terrific actors playing the kitchen crew are an airtight ensemble that is a pleasure to observe as they breathe life into their parts. They are “real;” we feel their pain, we feel their joy.
Unfortunately, the same is not true of the unnuanced Clyde. To be fair, Nottage has created a cardboard caricature, giving the actress little to work with. The distraction of her dozen or so wig and outfit changes only emphasizes the playwright’s missed opportunity in not fully fleshing her out.
Which is too bad, because Clyde exemplifies what can happen when, in pursuit of financial gain and raw power, we lose sight of what really feeds and sustains us. Luckily, her crew had Monty, with his belief in the restorative power of the sandwich, to lead by example and show them a better way. For more information and to buy tickets, visit https://www.huntingtontheatre.org/
