Through March 2nd: Black Rep’s "Coconut Cake" Is An Old Bro Bake-Off
For the women in attendance, your suspicions that this is indeed how a band of bawdy brothers interact, regardless of their age is, alas, true.
It’s a bold move by playwright Melda Beaty to create “Coconut Cake” with five male characters who spend their days at a local fast-food restaurant, supplanting the more common barbershop setting. Informing her script were actual listening sessions she conducted with men of a certain age, and there’s certainly a vibe, especially during the first half of the play, of being a fly on the wall as the characters drink coffee, eat unhealthy food, play chess and talk about their health, politics, young-buck days and love (and lust) lives.
As a member of an all-male support group, I can attest to the accuracy of a predominance of chatter involving the many ways men think – and live – through their dumb-sticks. So, for the women in attendance at the Black Rep’s production of “Coconut Cake,” your suspicions (or intuitions) that this is indeed how a band of bawdy brothers interact, regardless of their age is, alas, true.
One of the most interesting aspects of this play regards the title. Given the subject matter, why did Beaty use coconut cake as the title – what is the significance of that choice. The answer lies, I suspect, in the off-stage females in the lives of the men on the stage. Some are spouses, some are relatives, some are children and one is a woman-of-mystery (Pat Brulée) who moves into their neighborhood bearing the coconut cake of the title.
Not all men partake of her confection, but all are aware of the woman and are attracted to her Eve-like offering (cake rather than apple). There are numerous references to organized religion, faith and the Bible, so this interpretation is not a stretch. With nary a word of dialogue, Ms. Brulée profoundly impacts the group and shakes up the men’s carefully maintained facades. She is the instrument of change in this play, thus making “Coconut Cake” a play, at one level, about men – and featuring only men on stage – from a female perspective. Yet, all the off-stage women of mystery have their secrets revealed by and through the men. Kudos to Beaty for pulling off this theatrical feat.
The play’s set in the intimate black box A. E. Hotchner Studio Theatre, is a clean, well-lighted space with the sterile ambiance found in chain restaurants and hospital cafeterias. Tammy Honesty’s spot-on set design and Tony Anselmo’s shadow-less lighting (his first lighting design for the Black Rep) and transitions create a fluid, immersive experience, subtly reinforcing the play’s emotional beats.
Upon this effective stage tread a quartet of mostly retired men (plus an unhoused man, Gotdamnit), as they engage in their routine—a mix of camaraderie and commiseration—with the predictable rhythm of a long-standing ritual. Though necessary to establish these characters, it takes a while (the first half of the play, in fact) to set up the plot – requiring a certain amount of patience.
Even their distractions are routine. Each day, a striking woman parks her car and walks to a nearby building. Whenever she arrives, the men move downstage, entranced – with a reverential quality to their admiration. Each day, Gotdamnit appears to intercept the mysterious woman, exchanges a few words with her, then joins the group inside, where he habitually collects a dollar from each man.
Director Geovonday Jones employs clever staging choices like these, crafting a seamless flow of interactions while drawing strong performances from a talented cast. Alan Phillips’ sound design, including classic Chicago blues tunes as you enter the theater, also contribute to the sense of place and establish and reinforce the play’s emotional ambiance.
Richard Harris embodies Joe, a flashy real estate operator who has never settled down and steers clear of church. Harris plays him with a smooth, self-satisfied air, flashing his Rolex and diamond rings while boasting about his conquests. His ever-present bottle of “blue diamonds” (a not-so-subtle nod to erectile dysfunction medication) becomes a symbol of his bravado – though a bit overdone (a script issue, not his).
Joe’s longtime friend Eddie, played with a charming swagger by Duane Foster, faces mounting troubles at home. His wife, Iris, long aware of his infidelities, has grown increasingly furious—her anger turning to physical threats, including lying in wait with a butcher knife. Foster delivers a layered performance, capturing Eddie’s mix of bravado, vulnerability, and growing desperation.
Marty, played by Richard E. Waits, acts as the group’s steadying force. A deacon with a “unique” marital dynamic, he is the closest thing to a true elder among them. Waits brings depth to the role, particularly in Act II, when Marty’s own struggles come into sharper focus.
Marty has also introduced an outsider into their circle—his former brother-in-law, Hank, a white man played by Joe Hanrahan. Joe, calls him “Republican” rather than by name – until he doesn’t. Hanrahan’s Hank begins as seemingly meek, which makes his eventual breaking point in Act II all the more striking. And Hanrahan delivers that transformation believably and authentically.
As Gotdamnit, Lawrence Evans delivers one of the best characterizations in this production with a captivating mix of unpredictability and wisdom. Seemingly adrift and struggling with mental illness, he speaks in poetic, fragmented musings, revealing a deep reverence for church and Holy Communion. His reflections on light and darkness—how some people brighten a room while others dim it—add an almost mystical element to the play.
The second act is the strongest of the two. After all the set up in the first act, the second peels away all of the men’s defenses, exposing raw truths and opening the door to deeper honesty. In a way, the entire second act is one long climax, with the revelations and transformations of the characters tightly interwoven in surprising and not-so-surprising ways (if you were paying attention during the first act).
It’s to the credit of Beaty’s script (with more than a little humor) and this production’s fine casting, that a play involving a set of get-off-my-lawn-ers can deliver a satisfying, insight and hopeful (of ambiguous). And none of that would have been achieved without the performances of the male cast.
The Black Rep’s “Coconut Cake” runs through March 2 at the A. E. Hotchner Studio Theatre at Washington University. For more information, visit www.theblackrep.org.