A Raisin in the Sun – Lyric Hammersmith, London

Writer: Lorraine Hansberry

Director: Tinuke Craig

Director Tinuke Craig’s A Raisin in the Sun is not shy about the meaning behind its title. Commencing with a reading of the Langston Hughes poem from which it derives its name (“What happens to a dream deferred?/Does it dry up/Like a raisin in the sun?), it sets the stage for a production which deals in fantasy, fulfilment and failure.

In other, lesser productions, such a reading might have come across as heavy-handed: it removes the mystery behind the play’s title and presents a set of themes to the audience on a silver platter. But not so in this production: Tinuke Craig and her cast approach Lorraine Hansberry’s play holistically, embracing its many nuances and subtleties and striving, at all times, to truthfully and honestly portray the family at its centre. The result is a play which cannot be pinned down, simplified or summarised. In short, this is an experience, not just a production.

A Raisin in the Sun is the story of a black family living in close quarters in a cramped Chicago tenement, struggling to make ends meet until the death of the family’s patriarch brings to them the promise of life-changing insurance money. When this financial dream is finally fulfilled, the outcome is less than picturesque: arguments driven by intense financial strain give way to fiery clashes about how to use the money. And, of course, alongside this financial woe, this family must reconcile with the racial biases and preconceptions of the time, made manifest through the character of a white man from the local Improvement Association, who gently ruptures their plans to finally move into a house of their own.

But the overriding sentiment that an audience will take away from this play is humour: from the darkest, bleakest moments, a talented cast wrestles laughter from the depths of gloom. Solomon Israel portrays Walter Lee Jr, the family’s new patriarch – a swaggering, smooth-talking, stubborn man whose slick exterior belies a dangerous temper and a proclivity to take his frustrations out on those around him – most notably, his wife Ruth (portrayed by Cash Holland).

Israel’s Walter Lee depicts the duality of his character perfectly – the audience is at once captured by his easy charm and apprehensive of his unstable temperament. Likewise, Holland’s Ruth is a gentle, mild-mannered housewife for whom the financial strain of the past few years powerfully plays out in her tight-lipped smile and her weariness. Her increasingly desperate declaration that she’ll ‘scrub all the floors in America… but we got to MOVE!’ remains a powerful plea for change in the face of immovable circumstances.

This complex family dynamic is further buoyed by Walter Lee Jr’s mother (Lena), sister (Beneatha) and son (Travis), all living under the same roof. Doreene Blackstock plays Lena as a firm, God-fearing matriarch who presides over the family with a steely will and a proud hand – propelling the narrative by using their newfound money to purchase a new house in a predominantly white suburb. Meanwhile, Beneatha is played by Joséphine-Fransilja Brookman and her preoccupation with various eligible male suitors initially plays out as an amusing side narrative but gradually develops into a more meaningful exploration of female agency and expression under both societal and financial pressures. The scenes in which Brookman discusses her heritage and dreams with Joseph Asagai (Kenneth Omole) are some of the most amusing in the play: a reminder of how this production pivots and teeters on the boundary between comedy and tragedy, often simultaneously.

Indeed, to call these sections ‘comic interludes’ would be reductive – as would applying any label to this play. Comedy doesn’t cut it, and tragedy most certainly doesn’t either. Just as a Raisin in the Sun isn’t just about ‘a dream deferred’, it doesn’t neatly fit into any kind of categorisation. It is a story of dreams deferred, yes, – but also a tale of dreams denied, stolen, fulfilled, postponed, achieved, out-of-reach, interrupted by oppressors, class segregation, financial injustice.

The only aspect of the play which stays static is the beautifully simplistic domestic set (assembled by Cécile Trémolières) – a room carefully calculated to illustrate the claustrophobic nature of this confined tenement whilst giving the actors space to move, jump and dynamically explore the surroundings. To the side, two rooms add additional space: actors retiring to these are eerily backlit by a blue light, reminding the audience of their presence even as the main dialogue occurs in the centre.

A Raisin in the Sun is a domestic masterpiece because it breaks free of the boundaries of its setting. Whilst most of the action takes place behind the closed doors of this Chicago tenement, the audience feels the resounding implications of words spoken and the decisions made on the outside world. Likewise, the characters are never quite free of the outside world either: racial differences are always front of mind, and the precariousness of their financial situation forces the characters into desperate predicaments. But this is a play which never loses its recourse to humour as a mechanism to overcome hopelessness; a fact reinforced by strong performances and sensitivity to the source material.

Runs until 2 November 2024