By Jennifer Beasley.
Diasporic African narrative that melds the past with the future, exposing the fetishisation and abuse of Black bodies, and discovers the healing power of mysticism to accept one’s real self.
Trigger Warning: Adult content, sex and sexual references, coarse language, use of slurs, depictions of death, violence and sexual assault.
Based loosely on the amazing Nanny of the Maroons (c. 1686 – c. 1760), a woman ripped from her Ashanti Tribe in now modern-day Ghana, Africa, and sent to a brutal life as a slave in Jamica, Amarantha Robinson (Oshun), playwright and also the lead role of Juicy, has written a powerful play that thrusts the audience on a mind-bending journey through themes of racism, colonialism, feminine brutalism, mysticism and the power of feminist sexuality.
Presented in conjunction with Quiet Riot, Ilarun: The Cutting Comb, merges Afro-futurism with a two-punch mystical/metaphysical jolt to weave a story that dips in/out and through time, importing the time ripple aftereffect of Black slavery and suffering into the twenty-first century, and the importance of not forgetting our history.
Set around the 17th Century, the start of this 90-minute play begins at the art gallery at 45 Downstairs.
I applaud the bold move to begin the play while the audience stood to one side. However, the interaction with the audience was weak, and apart from a quick introduction to slave Jabari, played to perfection by Alpha Kargbo (Free Mandela), and with the right degree of flirtation and slave deference (what an amazing voice!), and to fellow slave Juicy and Hetty (also the Ceremony Keeper) a fantastic Rufaro Zimbudzi (Afrocentric), and accompanied by the white face painted fop and slave owner Masa (David John Watton, who once again proves he can act in anything), and comic relief Assistant/Betty, portrayed hilariously by Will Hall (Diced Peaches), the set-up of buying the slaves could have been done quickly downstairs.
I understood why this was done. We are quickly introduced to the main cast, and Juicy (a powerful and truthful performance by Amarantha), the protagonist, has a defiant character, that captivates the lustful Masa. I found that the extended scene didn’t add anything to the story at all. When I spoke to some of the audience members afterwards, they also felt the same. A case of ‘kill your darlings’ here. But after this hiccup the play picks up pace and steam. We are all led downstairs like cattle going into a corral (rather akin to the slave treatment), into the cellar, and the horrors of slave captivity, where we are washed in the sounds of a woman crying as machine sounds laced over with deep, foreboding music sets the tone.
This is where the play gets funky.
The sounds and crying depict the shame and dehumanisation of ‘milking’ female slaves. But this is the extraction (by an unseen machine) of the sexual fluids of the black women, and the commercialised of ‘Black Fluid’, which instils sexual power and energy, by the British to make a profit. Using this metaphor to home in on the supressed atrocities suffered by slaves; the rape, torture, enforced pregnancies for a workforce, and overworking of cane fields to further colonial self-interests, this association really delivers a shock value, yet the empathy to those who suffer rises.
After Juicy visits the mystic (a very funny turn by Rufaro Zimbudzi), she picks up the Ilarun, a forerunner of the Afro-pick, used by women in hair braiding and connections between the generations. This symbolism of the connections and ancestral histories inspires Juicy to rebel against the awful Masa, who is fed wild and increasingly abhorrent ideas by his fed-up assistant.
As Juicy accepts her ancestry and has a mystical interaction with the Goddess Oya during a thunderous and violent storm (incredible sound by Jack Burmeister, it blew me away), Juicy has a revelation, and becomes empowered to her Black history, ultimately finding self-acceptance and her pathway.
Great set design and costumes by Harry Gill, which are shown off beautifully in the dance sequences designed by Kwame Tosuma, and the fight scenes designed by Josh Bell are believable. I don’t know who the drummer is, but he did a great job.
This well thought out play deserves to be seen and played to large audiences. Extremely relatable, especially for women who constantly have to fight the invisibility of imposed social constraints, but relevant to anyone to support those whose voices from history still have a lot to tell us. We only need to listen.
Ilarun: The Cutting Comb plays at 45 Downstairs at 7:30pm (5pm Sunday) until Sunday December 15th, 2024.
Image: Dre Chez
