The Rolling Stone

The Rolling Stone

At the Newhouse Theater at Lincoln Center

Score: A-

You may have noticed, we have been inundated with plays about gay people lately.  Whether it’s a celebration of 50 years of progress since the Stonewall riots or a reaction to the regressive days of the Trump administration, the last few seasons have brought a wave of plays about the lives and trials of our LGBT population. Some were good; many were angry; others were self-indulgent. 

While I am certainly pleased to see so much attention being given to my gay brothers and sisters, given prior disappointments, it was with some apprehension that I took my seat at the Newhouse Theater to see “The Rolling Stone.”  But my trepidation turned to admiration as Chris Urch’s brilliant and compelling play unfolded.  It tells the story of a young Ugandan man who has fallen in love with a mixed-race Northern Ireland doctor who has come to Africa to reunite with his mother’s people.  Dembe, the 18-year-old, struggling to accept his identity, lives with his brother who was recently been anointed as the minister of an evangelical Christian church, and his sister who has aspirations to become a doctor, as does Dembe. A local paper, The Rolling Stone, has started to publish the names, addresses, and pictures of Kuchus – the local slang for gay people.

This brief description of the play’s plot does not adequately communicate the uniqueness of this production.  Mr. Urch, a young white British playwright with one other major play under his belt, displays not only an understanding of the harsh realities of the persecution of homosexuals in Uganda, a former UK protectorate, but also a stunning ability to reveal characters in two short hours.  The two brothers and the sister are very close and share their devout belief in fundamentalist Christianity, although Dembe is struggling with his society’s beliefs versus his natural feelings. Their father recently passing away and their neighbor, who they fondly call Mama, has become the conscience of the family.  She is as close to a holy-roller as any preacher you might see on your TV on Sunday morning.  Sam, Dembe’s secret lover, also seems conflicted – a white Irish doctor who has come to Uganda to practice medicine in his mother’s homeland – although his love for Dembe is absolute.

Mr. Urch puts these struggles in the middle of so many major political and religious issues without ever losing the focus on the people.  Uganda Parliament recently considered legislation demanding the death penalty for “the offence of homosexuality” and gay activists have been murdered.   The harsh treatment of homosexuals in several African countries is a carry-over from their time as “protectorates” of European countries, in this case the United Kingdom.  And perhaps most profoundly, the rise of Evangelical Christianity in African countries is the work of American missionaries that preach a literal interpretation of the bible and support horrendous treatment of those who “sin” without remorse.  Mr. Urch puts all of this in the context of real people. 

The Lincoln Center Theater production is compelling and timely.  Ato Blankson-Wood gives an absorbing performance as Dembe and Robert Gilbert, as Sam, is totally convincing in his affection and care for his African lover.  James Udom portrays minister Joe with a fury that makes Franklin Graham (Billy’s inflammatory son) look like a country preacher.  As Mama, Myra Lucretia Taylor is frighteningly committed to her beliefs and her willingness to reject and punish those who do not conform to those beliefs.           Latoya Edwards, as Dembe’s perceptive sister, Wummie, skillfully shows the audience her suspicions while never letting anyone on stage know why she worries.

But the real star in this production is the up-and-coming playwright, Chris Urch, aided by empathetic direction by Saheem Ali.  The play is not perfect.  There is a totally unnecessary subplot about Mama’s daughter Naome, played by Adenike Thomas, who has suddenly lost the ability to speak.  While a very brief explanation of this character’s relevance is shared by her mother in the last few moments of the play, it adds little to the play’s major threads and drags out its length unnecessarily. Still, this is a unique play among the many that deal with similar issues and it is as engrossing and moving as any seen recently.  While Uganda seems like another world to an American audience, it’s impossible to ignore the relevance of this play in this age of Trump and his misguided religious base.