'Road' twists and turns, but the journey is thrilling

At Segun Ojewuyi's, DRA '98, production of Wole Soyinka's The Road, a woman in the University Theater ladies' room sniffed, "Aristotle said that the most important thing was plot, and he was obviously right." Admittedly, The Road offers neither a linear narrative nor a conventional tragic structure, but why should it? Soyinka's work is content to adhere to its own non-Western system of aesthetics and presents its audience with expansive storytelling, resonant thematics, vibrant performances, and the rare beauty of a production wherein the marvelous design elements complement the action rather than overwhelm it. However, for an audience unversed in Nigerian tragedy derived from Yoruba beliefs and rituals (and that, I would venture, includes most of us), the circuitous storylines of The Road can prove difficult to follow.

The Road, an early work by playwright, political activist, Pulitzer Prize laureate, and all-around man of letters Soyinka, aggressively combines social commentary, bawdy comedy, and poetic philosophical inquiry. It centers on a ragtag band of thugs, would-be lorry drivers, and layabouts who construct a shantytown near a used motor parts store. The Professor (Jim Hart, DRA'98), a former Anglican lay-reader and Sunday School teacher, presides over the store. As he wanders the roads in search of auto parts, he also seeks apocalyptic, metaphysical signs embedded in the words of actual road signs. A melange of zealot, madman, fop, and drunk, the Professor preaches his quest after The Word to all within earshot. The most assiduous, though critical, listeners are Samson (Kes Khemnu, DRA '99) and Kotonu (Rodrick Fox, DRA '99), two former lorry drivers whose troubled pasts are revealed during several flashbacks in the second act.

In some ways, The Road resembles a metaphysical mystery story. What has happened to the body? What becomes of a man who is killed while possessed by a god? What if the man is kept alive while still in the agemo phase, a Yoruba conception of the transitory state between the moment of death and the physical dissolution of the body and spirit "where ascent is broken and a winged secret plunges back to earth?"

This intermixture of the mechanical, the religious, and the prosaic enriches The Road. Soyinka moves from low-comedy bad-breath jokes to lengthy poetic orations within a matter of lines. Some of these transitions are admittedly heavy-handed, but the range and free play of the lines are extraordinary. The smatterings of dialect, the clumsy adoption of English and American idioms (most memorably by the leader of the thugs, Say Tokyo Kid, played by Kyle Rivers, DRA '98), and the Professor's florid, formal diction weave a patchwork of language as varied, volatile, and haphazard as the world in which the play takes place. Ojewuyi cleverly echoes this confluence of cultures in the design elements and in the use of the chorus, who may be singing a Nigerian dirge in one scene and delivering a verse or two of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again" in the next. The latter is one of Ojewuyi's most inspired additions to the original text; others include a pre-dawn procession and the entrance of a hip-swinging orange woman.

The tenor of heightened reality is expertly conveyed through remarkable set design. Set designer Rachel Nemec, DRA '99, carted four tons of dirt onto the University Theater stage and constructed a weight-bearing overpass in the space above it. In the shadow of the overpass lurk the accident store and shanties, made from bits of siding and old auto parts. Beyond the shanties sits a graveyard, and beyond the graveyard, a window. This window first seems to be embedded in the wall of the Anglican church, but a change of lighting reveals the wall to be a masterfully painted view of the road and the city beyond. This design proves both serviceable and innovative, dusty and magical--a marvel of resource and innovation.

Ojewuyi has practiced a similar resourcefulness in his casting choices. Since the School of Drama could not provide a sufficient number of non-white actors, he called in one professional (Michael Eaddy, DRA '96, who plays the feckless, allegedly unwashed Salubi), and recruited an undergraduate (the ever-excellent Danny Beaty, ES '98, playing the policeman, Particulars Joe). He does include Caucasian actors in two appropriate roles: the suitably foreign Professor (a stage direction suggests that he wear Victorian costume), and the Chief-in-Town, inventively transformed from indigenous politico into the dapper CEO Million-Dollar-Man. Ojewuyi changes a "party" meeting to a "partners" meeting, and all is well.

It is a pity that Ojewuyi did not provide a more extensive director's note, offering more background and rendering the narrative simpler to follow, but The Road has much to offer the audience even when the plot's machinations leave us in the dust.

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