Displaying items by tag: Lyle Miller

The start of the civil rights movement was not Rosa Parks refusal to leave her seat on a bus. The civil rights movement started when the photo of 14-year-old Emmett Till, laying in his coffin beaten beyond recognition was graphically published on the cover of Jet Magazine for the world to bear witness. He was the victim of a heinous attack by brothers Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam.

“Trial in the Delta” is a reenactment of the trial held at the Tallahatchie County courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi on September 23, 1955. This reenactment took 2 hours thanks to the laborious job of paring down 5 days of actual court transcripts into a cohesive 2-hour production. The adaptation by G. Riley Mills and Willie Round was sharp and concise making the arguments of both sides extremely clear.

It had to be difficult directing a production where everyone knows the outcome and keep it fresh and new, yet this is exactly what the directing team of Dana N. Anderson and Anthony Moseley accomplished. They made the audience spectators to this miscarriage of justice. They never took the easy road of playing on emotions. They went for words that were spoken they went for intent. They were aided by a spectacular cast.

Although their backs were to the audience most of the time, the body language of JW Milam (Matt Miles) and Roy Bryant (Tyler Burke) spoke volumes. There were times I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Prosecutor Gerald Chatham (Andy Luther) pushed and pleaded knowing it was all in vain while Defense Atty. JJ Breland (Steve Silver) played verbal gymnastics with the witnesses knowing he had the upper hand. All the witnesses that took the stand had different perspectives. I felt the fear of Moses Wright (Darren Jones) as he pointed. Undertaker Chester Miller (Lyle Miller) was dignified as his profession required. The testimony that gripped me was Carolyn Bryant (Maddy Brown).  It was alarming. The work that Carolyn Bryant put into that story and the way Maddie Brown brought that story to life made me pinch myself. I realized this is a tactic that’s been around forever, and it still works. The way Bryant/Brown weaponized her tears broke my heart. It was evident this trial was over, and these men would be free. Mamie Bradley (Kayla Franklin) remained stoic thru all the proceeding even when was her turn to take the stand. Her last speech is powerful.

Looking at the program for this production, I noticed there are major people in the theatre community associated with this production and it shows. DuSable Museum, while not my favorite place to see a play, made this production work. The set is a maple wood courtroom. To the left of the witness box are 12 empty seats. The Jury…..12 White men.  Whenever the jury came or left the courtroom, we see a projection of 12 white men entering of leaving and we hear their footsteps. There are maple bannisters separating the Attorneys from the spectators.

Witnesses are seated throughout the audience and as they are called walk up to the witness stand and are sworn in.

This production is an example of how systemic racism works and as such would not be shown in Florida. Governor Ron DeSantis has signed into law the Stop-Woke (Wrongs to Our Kids and Employees) Act, which prohibits educational institutions and businesses from teaching students and employees anything that would cause anyone to feel guilt, anguish or any form of psychological distress due to their race, color, sex or national origin. I’m sure this production was not created to cause any undo harm or guilt. This is not only African American history, but also American History.

When: Through February 19th - 7 p.m. Thursday-Saturday, 3 p.m. Sunday

Where: DuSable Black History Museum and Education Center, 740 E. 56th Pl.

Tickets: $30-$55

Info: Collaboraction.org

These days, the antihero has become the new hero. Talented, but tortured. Acclaimed, but complicated. We have gotten to a point in culture where those we place upon pedestals are not just allowed to be, but expected to be, both ingenious and imperfect. And I’m fine with that; seeing my heroes as humans not only makes them more relatable, but more real and much more fascinating.

One of music’s true heroes – and a legend we lost at age 90 in the past year – gets this realistic treatment in Black Ensemble Theater’s Hail, Hail Chuck: A Tribute to Chuck Berry, written by L. Maceo Ferris. That’s not to say that the show, directed by Daryl D. Brooks, isn’t a delightful musical production, because it is. But instead of simply focusing on the beloved songs Chuck Berry left us, we get a look at the man who made the music.

We see Chuck’s childhood as a deacon’s son – which, coming from this son of a preacher man, can lead to a far from perfect adulthood – and his run-ins with the law. We witness a young Chuck struggle against racial inequality, both while touring through the Jim Crow South and right at home in St. Louis, as well as the unfair practices of record labels and managers. But while these episodes might explain the famously curmudgeonly man Mr. Berry became, especially later in life, they do nothing to dampen the pure joy his music brought to the world.

And that music! That rock and roll music!

That music is played, and played perfectly, by a band led by musical director and drummer Robert Reddrick. The band performs above the stage, so we see and appreciate every note, every backbeat. Oscar Brown fires off those licks we all know, those riffs that Chuck invented, with all the virtuosity and attitude you’d desire. Gary Baker and Mark Miller hold it down on rhythm guitar and bass, respectively. And Adam Sherrod is a highlight on keyboards, not just playing the piano parts of Johnny Johnson, but of Jerry Lee Lewis and Fats Domino, as well.

But in front of the band, in front of the mic, is the man. Or men, as we get an older Chuck as narrator, performer, and actor, played by Lyle Miller. Miller’s got the look – the sideburns, the sequined shirts, the pigeon-toed strut – and he’s also got the musical chops, as vocally he kills it. But what he brings most of all is that pure joy. Chuck, despite his difficulties as a man, was always the ultimate performer. And Miller brings that, a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his, admittedly, aged step.

What Chuck might have lost in spryness when he got older, the young Chuck always had, and that is what Vincent Jordan provides us as Berry in his earlier years. A lanky, cocky, duck-walking “black man playing hillbilly music,” Jordan has the confidence that Chuck had, that Chuck had to have, as he played as an underage prisoner, as an unknown in a St. Louis nightclub, and as an unsigned talent at Chicago’s legendary Chess Records. He had it, and he knew it. What I didn’t know, what I couldn’t have known, is that Jordan was a last-minute fill-in for the role, having had only days to learn the part, learn the songs, learn to be Chuck Berry. If he’d prepared his whole life to play Chuck, I’d have applauded Jordan’s performance. But to learn he did so in less than a week, now that’s something special.

Also special is the rest of the cast. As younger and older versions of Chuck’s longtime musical partner and pianist, Johnny Johnson, Rueben Echoles and Kelvin Davis bring humanity and humor. And it’s nice that Ferris’ script works to rectify the decades Johnson spent receiving little to no recognition for his hand in making the man we know as Chuck Berry. Jeff Wright plays two important roles in Chuck’s legend. First, he plays Leonard Chess, the Chicago label owner who made Chuck famous, and himself very wealthy in the process, as well as a sneering, leering Keith Richards, one of many white men who built careers on reworking what Chuck had invented. Dwight Neal was a particular favorite of mine, also handling dual roles. His Muddy Waters howls and growls the 1950s electrified Chicago blues, while his Fats Domino is regal, tickling the ivories to “Blue Monday.”

The rest of the ensemble is impressive, too. Kylah Williams is affecting as Chuck’s loyal and long-suffering wife Themetta. Cynthia Carter brings additional joy and humor each time she graces the stage. And Trequon Tate is great as a late-period Bo Diddley, leading the audience in a singalong.

And that’s what this show is all about, really: the songs, and how the audience loves them, how everyone loves them. Old and young, black and white, nobody could stay still as those frolicking riffs were played and those transporting lyrics were sung. And while Jackie Taylor’s Black Ensemble Theater does look at some of the more honest and serious aspects of Chuck Berry’s life, it is almost impossible to make human the kind of hero, the kind of superhuman who could write those songs and perform them. Hail, hail Chuck Berry. Hail, hail Black Ensemble Theater. And hail, hail rock and roll.

Hail, Hail Chuck: A Tribute to Chuck Berry is being performed at Black Ensemble Theater through April 1st. For more show information, visit blackensembletheater.org.