(For those of you who take exception to the idea of an essential African American experience, re/mind yourselves that perhaps "it's just a black thing, so you wouldn't understand." And this could be true even if you describe yourself as Black, but with a host of qualifiers. Here's the test: if Revelations doesn't touch you in a deeply profound manner, then "you wouldn't understand" what I'm referring to by the African American experience.)
Revelations validated the psychic backdrop of the Black experience through its acknowledgement of our slave ancestors, on the one hand, and of Jesus Christ, on the other. The former--aspiring, passionately, for freedom; the latter--lighting the way up (from the South) and out, ostensibly, of American bondage. In celebration of both, Revelations re/minded Negroes (as we were called in polite company back then) of a past many preferred to ignore, elide or forget; even if for no reason other than to 'get on with it'--it being, the work immediately at hand.
Revelations was at the cutting edge, then, of what we refer to today loosely as the Civil Rights era. It cut right through the veneer of pretense that Americans have historically relied on in holding fast to the belief that our nation's "manifest destiny<>" will forgive, ultimately, any and all abuses undertaken in its name.
Revelations exposed the underbelly of America's epic past; and it did so in a way that could not be denied. The admittedly personal offers no apologies for its view of the world. It simply is; and its telling is a tremendously courageous act, especially when staged as a spectacle open to critical review. So it was doubly validating for artists, in general, and for African American artists in particular. Whether it will continue to do so, remains to be seen.
For the Revelations re/presented at the Wang Center (Boston, MA) one day in April, 2006 marked a turning away from 1) its historical significance as a period piece that foregrounded, and thereby validated, the African American experience; and 2) its place, perhaps, in the pantheon of Ailey's varied works over the years. The female of the "Fix Me, Jesus" pair was of European abstraction.
A wave of questions displaced the emotional tide I'd grown to expect from witnessing Alvin Ailey's Revelations. It has always had a deep emotional effect on me. Whether on stage or screen, Revelations usually brought me to tears. This year, for the first time, I didn't weep at all. Its meaning had changed radically, for me at least, with its telling now mediated through the body of a White female.
Suddenly race was the primary prism, indeed the only prism, for processing the performance. Revelations was no longer a culturally-specific story about the power of redemption in the experience of African America. In fact, I could not even project the backstory onto the Revelations that was unfolding before me.
Ironically the interracial makeup of the pair injected race into the work as it never had before. So I struggled to see what new meaning(s) Revelations held in store, now that its telling was mediated through the White female form.
Here's what I came up with: it effectively mocked the low-level rage Black women feel occasionally when confronted with a fine Black man in the arms of a White woman (in which case, the work of Revelations was distorted to satisfy someone's personal/political agenda); it reflected a rigid preference for "color-blind" or "neutral" casting (a preference that only 'works,' really, when it goes unnoticed); and/or it was done blithely--insensitive, that is, to both the work and its cultural specificity.
Given the stakes I hope this critical turn was intentional, at least--marking a policy change in the artistic direction of Judith Jamison. It might reflect a desire to broaden the metaphor, hence the message(s), of Revelations; a metaphysical re/presentation, perhaps, of AAADT's own efforts to expand its brand (an unfortunate buzzword in the marketing world of late) and 'go global,' as they say, in grinding pursuit of audience development.
This is great for institution-building, and can be accomplished spectacularly as AAADT's high-caliber performances year after year attest. The problem is, any gains in audience development could very well be offset by losses in audience loyalty; if not today, then over time. Another problem--one even more pernicious, exascerbates the first: by broadening the metaphor, you risk flattening the message(s) it contains.
Thus I write as a representative of that part of the AAADT audience that's already started to peel away--one who used to go every year, regardless...; it was tradition. In the past five to ten years, however, things changed; so subtly, at first, that I couldn't really put my finger on why I felt ambivalent, more or less, about the upcoming Alvin Ailey season.
All it took, apparently, was one performance of Revelations at the Wang Center this past April to crystallize the triggers of my ambivalence. As Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater turns away from its primary base of supporters; as it struggles to overcome the perception that it's a Black dance theater company (however understandable the impulse); as AAADT becomes more corporate, it becomes more generic.
Now there's nothing wrong with this in principle. Artists and arts organizations have to find a way to be self-sustaining; and AAADT has clearly developed a business model that can rake in the cash. The question is, can it continue to do so without sacrificing its core identity? Can it continue to empty its raw materiale, and still be itself? Put differently, what's the point of form without substance?
None of this should be read, in any way, as a criticism of the performance delivered by Gwynenn Taylor Jones in "Fix Me, Jesus" at the Wang Center that sunny day. She was clearly 'up to the task'--her technique and interpretive grace were both in play and obviously primed to be at pique. So the fact that the casting decision did not work that day had nothing to do with her performance; rather, it put her race in play.
In this case the unintended (?), and ironic, consequence of "color-blind" casting was that it placed a barrier between the audience and the work itself--one the audience would have to consciously overlook or ignore in order to appreciate the performances being delivered, even though the work itself was lost.
It reminded me of the decision to cast Morgan Freeman (obviously an able and accomplished actor) as "Red" in The Shawshank Redemption--a period film set, somewhat ambiguously (the script is internally conflicted in this regard), in the early 1950s. Despite able performances by the cast, two factors made The Shawshank Redemption in/credible to many: 1) the fact of Morgan Freeman's race; and 2) the fact that prisons of the period were segregated, and would not have housed a Black "Red" without explanation. In other words, the film was neither scripted, nor was the script revised, to accommodate "Red" being performed by a Black man.
The same critique could be offered to those who decided to cast a White female in a role scripted with a Black woman in mind, without even a program note to frame the performance's reception.
Of course Americans like to think their society is "color-blind." Even those who admit that our society is not color-blind, think that it should be. Indeed so anxious are we about getting there that we tend to ignore all evidence to the contrary.
If you listen to discussions about affirmative action, for example, you will inevitably hear murmurs about our "color-blind" Constitution despite clear and significant color-coded disabilities within it.
A consensus has emerged that the United States has righted past wrongs--certainly with respect to African Americans, that is. Political scientists (I used to be one) point to increases in the number of millionaires, PhDs, high-tax bracket professionals, and homebuyers among African Americans as proof positive that discrimination--in the workplace and otherwise--no longer exists. By these lights, then, any and all 'talk' today about affirmative action is really a reference to one thing, and one thing only--quotas; a viewpoint that the federal courts have assiduously subscribed.
A curious development has occurred along parallel lines, however--one that has gone without comment, in not without notice. 'Diversity initiatives' continue to abound, but now aim primarily at minority-owned and -run enterprises. Such enterprises must employ, and count among its core constituencies, Americans of European descent; if they don't want to be marginalized, that is. Moreover, this cannot be allowed to occur (or not) 'organically;' rather, it must be 'engineered'--i.e., some affirmative action must be taken to incorporate 'diversity' in the design and implementation of our institution-building processes. So be it.
This has long been the case in an industry where (the free flow of) commerce is expected to rule, and where the tribal color--once gold, now green--transcends religion, nationality, and ethnicity. There it's a "money talks," "slam-bam, thank you, mam," 'cash and carry' world of efficiences and execution--a virtual whirl of global expediences.
Until recently the third sector of our economy has not been driven primarily by the need to do what is most expedient from a market perspective. The nonprofit and not-for-profit sectors are mission-driven entities organized for reasons other than a pure profit motive. In general, they attend to issues or values of concern to highly particularized constituencies, who have a stake in their programmatic outcomes. For arts organizations, in particular, being mission-driven used to translate into a single-minded focus on the quality and integrity of (a work of) art and its expression.
Now, especially in the performance world, values external to the work of art itself have crept into the calculations of arts organizations that are struggling to grow. 'Diversity' is among the myriad of novel values arts organizations have had to incorporate into their thinking about growth. Accordingly it's somewhat paradoxical that the pressure on African American institutions to 'diversify' comes at the very time that the broader corporate world is being relieved of the pressure to do so.
In any event, "color-blind" casting is 'all the rage' these days as casting directors for stage & screen go about their work. The basic concept is not entirely without merit. It's directed at taking a more inclusive approach to casting --one that rejects the presumption that pink skin is neutral, 18-percent gray, a blank palette on which to paint. Gone, then, are the days when every role, except Mammy, Lil' (Black) Sambo, Steppin' Fetchin' and the like, were played by Caucasians, even if more or less in 'blackface.'
This "color-blind" or "neutral" casting approach amounts to a tacit acknowledgement that today's audiences are more sophisticated. Imagine Hollywood trying to pass off Jack Palance as an Indian or Eli Wallach as a Mexican today. No amount of skin-reddening would get today's audiences to suspend disbelief long enough to accept their characters as credible. Besides there are so many accomplished performers of diverse backgrounds today that ignorance (of the talent pool) can no longer pass for an excuse.
Trade associations like Actors Equity and the Screen Actors' Guild see to it that the names and faces of their dues-paying and (pre)'qualified' members are always 'at the ready;' and talent agencies bring pure profit motive to the mix as well. Both trade associations and professional partnerships long ago opened their doors--doors that once were, in fact, closed tight to non-pink performers.
So the performance industry's push in the direction of "neutral" casting is a good thing, right? When it furthers the art, yes.
The racing of Alvin Ailey's Revelations, like Frank Darabout's racing of The Shawshank Redemption, suggests that color-blind casting should not be rule-based or undertaken blithely; at least not in the racialized world in which Americans (recognizing that this would not necessarily be the case elsewhere) work, play, and live.
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