REVIEW | ‘brownsville song’ sings with leads’ charisma

The Leo K. Theatre at Seattle Repertory Theatre (155 Mercer St.) welcomes playwright Kimber Lee’s “brownsville song (b-side for tray),” an intimate look at urban violence through one family’s grief.

Lee based her play on the true story of Tray Franklin, whose life was cut short in Brooklyn’s Brownsville neighborhood, which is known as the murder capital of New York City. Although the 100-minute drama is all-too-predictable, perhaps that is its ultimate tragedy.

We all are familiar with the characters: a strong grandmother who raises two grandchildren after her son is murdered, a little girl abandoned by a drug-addicted mother, a teenage boy hoping for a bright future — if only he can stay alive that long.

Each character is a movement of the “brownsville song.” But despite its musical title, the play unfolds in nonlinear fragments of this family’s life. At times, it’s more like a puzzle with pieces that don’t always seem to fit.

That said, Lee’s drama opens on a gut-wrenching note. Denise Burse, who gives a strong, believable performance as Grandmother Lena, sits on a bare stage and launches an emotional monologue, her poetic rage fueled by a tirade of grief: “He was not the same, old story,” she cries.

She’s referring to her 18-year-old grandson, Tray — a good boy, a good student, a Golden Glove boxer. She kept him from joining a gang, but she could never break him of the habit of drinking out of the milk carton, nor could she save his life. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in the crosshairs of gang violence. In the news, he’s just another sad statistic; in the play, he’s a tragedy.

As Lena talks about him in past tense, she prepares us for the upcoming flashback, when we’re taken back in time to meet him.

The charismatic Chinaza Uche shines as Tramaine Berry Thompson (Tray). He’s a high school senior who dreams of a college education. He’s a loving big brother. He’s a cheerful Starbucks barista. He’s a bit cheeky. Still, it’s obvious how much he loves his grandmother.

Tray doesn’t want to end up like his childhood friend, Junior (Tyler Terise), now a gun-toting gang member. Tray hopes his skills as a champion boxer will lead to a college scholarship.

Devine, Tray’s 9-year-old half-sister, also being raised by Granny Lena, was abandoned in the supermarket by her mother. As the play unfolds, Devine bounces between reality and fantasy, coping with Tray’s death by channeling his ghost.

Fifth-grader Catherine Ting Karmon is making her professional stage debut in “brownsville song.” On opening night, she won our hearts with her touching and sensitive portrayal as Devine. Karmon radiates an amazing emotional connection to her character.

In fact, some of the play’s best moments occur when Uche and Karmon are together onstage. Their scenes overflow with an endearing rapport, one that is both poignant and painful. Devine looks for acceptance, so she tries out for the school play. While her classmates land roles as swans, she is cast as a tree — ironically, a weeping willow. Tray’s playful ghost magically appears to show her how special her tree can be.

“Brownsville song” plays out in a series of minimally designed venues: a small kitchen, a smaller bedroom. A bare stage becomes classroom and later, a playground. The high wire fence separates the onstage action from the graffiti and the piles of trash.

At times, the action seemed sluggish and the exposition confusing. Much of that confusion revolves around the character of Merrell. Just who is she? Is she Tray’s sister, his ex-girlfriend, his mother?

Actually, she’s his stepmother, a former teacher who abandoned her own daughter and stepson to languish in substance abuse, after her husband was murdered. Now, she’s sober and wants to make amends. She starts by helping Tray write an essay as part of his college application.

At first, Vanessa Kai, as the stepmother, seems like a character from another play that has accidently wandered into Lee’s drama. But Kai becomes more convincing as she settles into her role.

This play may have resonated when it first opened at Lincoln Center in 2014, but it doesn’t pack the same punch in 2016. Maybe we’re numbed by these kinds of deaths.

Writer James Baldwin once told this critic, “The most endangered species in the United States is that of young black men.” And “brownsville song” dramatizes that statement.

The playwright never intended her drama to be a unique occurrence; rather, she wanted to personalize a tragedy that happens far too often.

We sympathize with the play’s tragic events, despite its uneven direction and lack of fluidity.

And so, we are left with these thoughts: Maybe if he had lived, Tray would have fulfilled his promise. And maybe with few adjustments, we could say the same of Lee’s play.

“Brownsville song” runs through April 24 in the Leo K. Theatre at Seattle Repertory Theatre. For ticket information, call (206) 443-2222 or visit seattlerep.org.