By Elaine Liner
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
"You pull over and watch the cop get out of his car," says Sterling, a corporate exec chosen to be the new director of an exclusive East Coast art foundation. "A corner of your mind automatically runs down the checklist, the one your father drummed into you and that you've drummed into your own son. Keep your hands in sight. Don't make any unexpected movements. Address him as 'Officer.'
"'Is there a problem, Officer?' you say. Of course, you know what the problem is--DWB--but there's a script to be followed in these encounters, and you are following it."
The terse, often explosive dialogue that follows isn't quite as predictable as Sterling's well-honed response to the bogus police stop. Permanent Collection is one of the freshest new plays to come along in years, on par with two other modern dramas that employ art as a central theme: John Guare's Six Degrees of Separation and Donald Margulies' Sight Unseen. Gibbons, a white playwright whose work often deals with race and conflict in American culture, succeeds where too many other emerging playwrights come up short. He takes on important issues in this play (his eighth) without ever reducing the conversations to polemical jibes between angry voices. Permanent Collection works as a worthwhile and memorable evening of theater because while it's discussing the racial divide that exists even among artsy liberals, it delivers a well-crafted plot (including a dandy cliffhanger at the end of Act 1) and six clearly defined original characters saying interesting things. Best of all is the dialogue that takes place after the curtain calls. This is a play worth thinking and talking about long after the performance ends.
The setting is the fictional "Morris Foundation," home to a priceless collection of Impressionist art (based on Philadelphia's embattled art gem, the Barnes Foundation). Following the death of its founder (played as a dapper ghost by Barry Nash), the foundation appoints Sterling, a businessman with no background in the art world, as its new chief administrator. Arriving on the job with bounding enthusiasm, Sterling immediately upsets the status quo by bringing in his own young assistant, Kanika (Jaquai Wade), and relegating the loyal veteran (Tippi Hunter) to a post in the "archives."
When the collection's white education director, Paul (Christopher Carlos), takes Sterling on a get-acquainted tour of the building, the new boss is surprised and excited to find a cache of centuries-old African treasures stored away from public view. Why not bring out a few pieces of the fine tribal art and mix them among the Modiglianis and Renoirs, Sterling wonders.
What seems to be a simple request turns into a vicious battle that almost destroys the foundation. Paul maintains that the collection's contents aren't to be tampered with, according to the dying wishes of the founder. What's on view is what's supposed to be on view; what isn't, isn't. Sterling senses racism in the setup. "There is the reason given," he says. "And then there is the reason."
Why, he asks, are the walls of a renowned institution crowded with paintings of white women by white artists when the African art is ghetto-ized to the basement? Through a local newspaper reporter (Leah Spillman) looking for a scoop, the debate is made public. Paul is fired. He sues. White protesters show up to support him. Annoyed, Sterling looks out at the chanting marchers from his office window and compares them to the Ku Klux Klan.
The race card shuffles this way and that throughout the play. But playwright Gibbons doesn't take sides. He lets his characters do the grandstanding, and both Sterling and Paul make reasoned arguments for their points of view. They also have their own hidden agendas. Perhaps Paul is bitter about being passed over for the job in favor of an outsider, a black man more financially successful than he'll ever be. And isn't there just a hint of screw-you revenge against white upper-crust culture in Sterling's demand to open the foundation to more urban black visitors?
In content and production quality, Kitchen Dog excels with this one. A big surprise is the performance by Gilyard, a theater newcomer best known as the shrugging sidekick on two long-running TV series, Matlock and Walker, Texas Ranger. He's also appeared in those dreadful movie versions of the dreadful Left Behind books. Now a graduate student and instructor of acting at SMU, Gilyard, 48, acquits himself admirably in his local stage debut, projecting a strong sense of barely restrained rage from behind Sterling's smooth demeanor.