Feast on humor, complexity in Platanos and Collard Greens
Guerdley Cajus
Issue date: 3/12/08 Section: News
Simmering Spanish cuisine, countrified soul food and social commentary lured masses to the Student Union Thursday, Feb. 28 for "Platanos and Collard Greens," a Between the Line Production's play layered in complexity.
The off-Broadway show exposes the internalized civil war between Latino and black cultures with seasoned, contemporary humor, serving a reality necessary and easy to swallow.
With a menagerie of sponsorship provided from P.A.C.E. Board, Alpha Kappa Alpha, Sabor Latino, Sigma Lambda Beta, Phi Iota Alpha and the Office of Multicultural Affairs, the play served its purpose by provoking thought.
"Did you know Inca and Zulu Kings go together like platanos and collard greens?" Narrator Freeman (Phillip J. Smith) used this opening line as a platform to delve into a bold poem questioning the audacity of solidarity.
The diverse, yet clearly stratified audience, (mostly Latino on the left and black on the right), sitting in the dimly lit Student Union stared back blankly. Not one response was uttered. The revolutionary question manifested into a two and half hour production, zigzagging between racial prophecies and contemporary realities.
The abstract storyline revolves around the hindered love of prideful Freeman, who undergoes "the breaks" with his Puerto Rican girlfriend Angelita (Carissa Jocett Toro). When Angelita is ordered by her mother to stop seeing "dat black boy" all hell, history and racial angst breaks
loose. The brash delivery of this urban West Side Story surged an electric response among the audience.
Students hummed and applauded in agreement as Freeman and the cast discussed society's social and political systems of "pigmentocracy" and "poli-tricks," institutionalized from sea to shining sea through screwball comedy and spoken word.
The simplicity of the set fixed lighting, minimal prop usage and the not-so-super score of random a cappella and off- key Notorious B.I.G. lyrics-in addition to the flamboyant overacting, were eclipsed by underlying truisms. The exaggerated performances compressed urban America into six hood figures, ranging from the hip hop minstrel caricature Okay, to the "heyyy" around-the-way Latin mami Nelsi.
The off-Broadway show exposes the internalized civil war between Latino and black cultures with seasoned, contemporary humor, serving a reality necessary and easy to swallow.
With a menagerie of sponsorship provided from P.A.C.E. Board, Alpha Kappa Alpha, Sabor Latino, Sigma Lambda Beta, Phi Iota Alpha and the Office of Multicultural Affairs, the play served its purpose by provoking thought.
"Did you know Inca and Zulu Kings go together like platanos and collard greens?" Narrator Freeman (Phillip J. Smith) used this opening line as a platform to delve into a bold poem questioning the audacity of solidarity.
The diverse, yet clearly stratified audience, (mostly Latino on the left and black on the right), sitting in the dimly lit Student Union stared back blankly. Not one response was uttered. The revolutionary question manifested into a two and half hour production, zigzagging between racial prophecies and contemporary realities.
The abstract storyline revolves around the hindered love of prideful Freeman, who undergoes "the breaks" with his Puerto Rican girlfriend Angelita (Carissa Jocett Toro). When Angelita is ordered by her mother to stop seeing "dat black boy" all hell, history and racial angst breaks
loose. The brash delivery of this urban West Side Story surged an electric response among the audience.
Students hummed and applauded in agreement as Freeman and the cast discussed society's social and political systems of "pigmentocracy" and "poli-tricks," institutionalized from sea to shining sea through screwball comedy and spoken word.
The simplicity of the set fixed lighting, minimal prop usage and the not-so-super score of random a cappella and off- key Notorious B.I.G. lyrics-in addition to the flamboyant overacting, were eclipsed by underlying truisms. The exaggerated performances compressed urban America into six hood figures, ranging from the hip hop minstrel caricature Okay, to the "heyyy" around-the-way Latin mami Nelsi.
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