Loud cheers erupted on opening night in the Alabama Shakespeare Festival's Octagon Theatre at the conclusion of Lynn Nottage's Clyde's, this country's most performed play of 2022. The two-time Pulitzer Prize winning playwright is well-known for staging stories of some of America's forgotten people [people of color; working class], instilling her characters with qualities the rest of society takes for granted.
Five ensemble actors directed by Josiah Davis portray formerly incarcerated short order cooks in the kitchen of a truck stop diner, overseen by the devilishly foul-mouthed owner, Clyde [Phyllis Yvonne Stickney is mesmerizing] who often reminds them in no uncertain terms that they had better toe the line and that they work for her only because no-one else would take them. They have no other options.
Fiery Letitia [Alinca Hamilton], lovesick Rafael [Alfredo Antillon], and struggling Jason [Brendan D. Hickey] admire the sagacious zen-like Montrellous [Michael A. Shepperd], all the while being aware of Clyde's presence and power over them.
And they reluctantly make the ordinary sandwiches on Clyde's menu while following Montrellous's example of inventing new and more elaborate creations in the quest of making the perfect sandwich, keeping their recipes secret from Clyde's ever-watchful eyes. For them, it's a matter of survival; even though Clyde squelches their every attempt at independence or creativity, they persist.
Each one's backstory is revealed during the raunchy fast-paced intermssionless hour-and-forty minute running time. Everyone hurts, and each one's previous choices and actions that got them into trouble are revealed: some readily, and some requiring more prodding, with jokes galore that garner well-earned laughs to balance the seriousness of their conditions.
But in the kitchen and through the actors' remarkably credible performances, relationships among them develop, dreams are openly expressed, grief and repentance are poignantly displayed, mistrust segues into friendly bantering, and the ultimate recognition that they shouldn't be defined by their mistakes affords them some dignity that society [and Clyde] have refused them.
Is there such a thing as a perfect sandwich? -- Montrellous claims that a sandwich is the most democratic of all meals; and the others realize that collaboration and respect for each one's individuality might create a perfect one.
And because they experience a kind of redemption, we sympathize, we see them differently, we understand their predicaments, and we invest in their lives, in short, we're on their side.
