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| Shazi Raja & Carolina Sanchez in "Milk Like Sugar" (photo: T. Charles Erickson) |
The current offering of Huntington Theatre Company is
the 2011 play “Milk Like Sugar” by Kirsten Greenidge (Luck of
the Irish), revised for this production and directed by
Huntington Associate Producer M. Bevin O'Gara. The play's title is a
bit heavily metaphorical, referring to the powdered milk offered to
food stamp recipients, implying a nutrient-empty substitution.
Wisely mounted in the small venue of the Roberts Studio (more like
its off-Broadway version) in the Calderwood Pavilion, this is a tale
of self-esteem, or the lack of it. The playwright once posed the
question “where does knowledge come from?” to a variety of
students, receiving radically varying answers. An under-served class
responded: “from your teacher, from outside of you, so it depends
on who your teacher is”. A middle class room of students answered:
“from hard work”. A more privileged class pointedly offered:
“from within you”. The protagonists of this play fit squarely
(at least at first) into the peg of thinking esteem comes from
external sources. On the surface this is a simple tale of a small
group of teenaged girls and their initial promise to all become “PG”
(pregnant) and their subsequent misconceptions.
Annie (Jasmine Carmichael), a sixteen year old high
school sophomore, is in the process of choosing a tattoo, a birthday
gift given her by her classmates Talisha (Shazi Raja) and Margie (Carolina Sanchez). All three are wrapped up
with the notion of having a baby (versus actually having to raise
one, not unlike being fascinated with planning a wedding as opposed
to the reality of marriage, as O'Gara noted elsewhere). Annie tries
to convince her astronomy-loving boyfriend Malik (Mark Pierre), his
head in the stars, to conceive with her. Her born-again friend Keera
(Shanae Burch) opposes it, as of course does her mother Myrna (Ramona
Lisa Alexander), an aspiring writer. But tattoo artist Antwoine
(Matthew J. Harris) is ever ready to assist. Annie has in mind a
certain life style to which she aspires and “deserves”, echoing
the mantra of modern media and culture that encourage us to believe
we deserve things. She wants a baby because she wants her own
family; in essence, she wants love. It's the shared desire for love
that drives this story about young women and their choices, and how
empowered they feel to make choices that they trust are right for
them. They're considering what their options are in a manner that
they haven't before. Based on a news story of a pregnancy pact in
Gloucester, MA (which proved to have been a fabricated hoax), it's
the sort of play that's easily described as, to coin a phrase,
“ripped from the headlines”. Declaring that having a baby “isn't
like real work”, they haven't a clue about what caring for it would
entail.
What keeps this work from being overly metaphorical is
the combination of wise playwriting, strong direction and a
believable cast. One feels as though one is eavesdropping on real
teenagers and their collective angst. Carmichael is superb and
very natural, while Raja and Sanchez are excellent foils, with
Alexander delivering a memorable turn in several chain-smoking
scenes. But it's Burch who steals scenes she's in, with her complex
character who's not all that she seems to be. The male characters are less
developed (and Annie's father and brothers, though mentioned in
passing, are never seen). The creative team work is excellent,
consisting of colorful Scenic Design by Cristina Todesco, apt
Costume Design by Junghyun Georgia Lee, and fine Lighting Design by
Wen-Ling Liao and Sound Design by M. L. Dogg.
What the playwright has captured with her keen ear for
street patois and the rhythms of teenage speech is an entirely
credible portrayal of young people who can't foresee how they are
choosing a nutrient-deprived “ticket” out of their environment.
As is noted more than once by these trapped teens, “What else we
got?”. Finding that answer may make Greenidge, a tremendously
gifted talent, the future voice of her generation of theatregoers.
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