The beauty of gospel music is blended with the pain of teenage angst, complexities of black masculinity and repressed sexuality in this stunning revival that is one of the plays of the year.
Penned by Tarell Alvin McCraney, the Oscar-winning writer behind Moonlight, the writer draws on his own experiences of being ostracised and bullied at school in America, using these moments from his upbringing as inspiration for this gorgeously lyrical exploration of difference and acceptance. Choir Boy drops audiences into Charles R. Drew, a private school where five boys, some on the cusp of graduation, wrestle with themselves as well as their gospel-singing prowess. All five boys grapple with their own versions of masculinity, while also reconciling with beliefs and behaviours that are different to themselves.
The result is something deeply human. At the head of the choir is Pharus (Terique Jarrett), a talented soloist whose position as the lead is undermined by heinous homophobic slurs thrown at him by a cruel Bobby (Rabi Kondé). Pharus is bright, charismatic and funny, yet Jarrett strikes a strong blend of this confidence with the wearing vulnerability of someone used to these slurs and jibes, with subtle flickers of the eyes, or a momentary pause, a quick insight into the pain Pharus suffers. Nancy Medina’s deft direction thrives here, enabling the boys to be assured, loud, teenagers one minute before suddenly struggling with their insecurities the next. The result is something raw and urgent, and the play becomes a striking blend of heart, courage and individuality that deeply resonates.
Indeed, it is these brief moments of silence that are the most poignant in a play where music and noise thrive. Despite his bigoted attitudes, Kondé’s Bobby remains a complex and layered character, still struggling with the death of his mother, which fuels the fury within him, gently sobbing in one particularly compelling moment. This is compounded by a beautifully choreographed scene in which the boys support a still-grieving Bobby in the shower, a poignant moment of intimacy between friends, where Medina’s direction and Ingrid Mackinnon’s gorgeous movement direction combine for something truly captivating.
Meanwhile, Michael Ahomka-Lindsay’s David, the only member of his family to have such a prestigious education, with their hopes pinned on his shoulders, is measured and reflective, yet his character’s dark turn reiterates the problems with silence, the dangers of repressed feelings, and the pressures to conform.
Freddie MacBruce’s AJ, Pharus’s roommate, is fiercely defensive of his best friend, leading to one of the play’s standout moments towards the play’s finish, where male bravado is replaced with an intimate tenderness between two friends that reiterates the piece’s message about identity and acceptance. Rounding off the quintet is Khalid Daley’s JR, often the punchline to the boys’ jokes. Daley’s JR is quietly unsure of himself, behind in his studies, and, it seems, socially, with his desperate, small reaction to the piece’s big turning point a gripping moment.
Under the tutelage of the domineering Headmaster Marrow (Daon Broni), a father figure to the boys and Bobby’s uncle which complicates the handling of Pharus’s suffering of homophobic abuse, and mercurial new teacher Mr Pendleton (Martin Turner), the five are pushed to their limits academically and socially. As a result, they lean heavily on their spiritual beliefs and the power of gospel music to guide them through, to a remarkable effect. Choir Boy’s inclusion of gospel music becomes something deeply profound, with the tender, understated qualities of the music in part a deft contrast to the large emotions and turmoils burning within all five young men. It is a powerful combination, brought to the stage so vividly by the exceptional musical talent on stage, with the a capella delivery sublime.
Max Johns’s set design also succeeds in enabling the production, and McCraney’s, focus on young, black masculinity and sexuality to thrive. The design is simple, a school hall, with beds, school desks and chairs quickly brought in and out, while upstage, the showers, a place where the boys sing individually and collectively, hide behind the school hall’s drapes. The simplistic design is effective in giving the play’s big ideas somewhere to breathe, fixing attention on each of the characters’ struggles.
Choir Boy is, simply put, a must-see. The combination of tight dialogue, complex characters and the graceful delivery of gorgeous gospel music creates something magical, something deeply rich in human spirit while also provoking a conversation about tolerance and acceptance. These songs, and their intertwining with Black history, are something Pharus causes great controversy about when he questions their meaning, yet in this exceptional production, the songs take on new life, a form of protection and deflection for these boys learning how to become men, and what that looks like, in a changing and volatile world, triumphantly brought to the fore in this perfectly pitched and deeply profound revival.
