Clyde’s by Lynn Nottage – ★★★★☆
Much of Clyde’s, a comedy by two-time Pulitzer winner Lynn Nottage, is preoccupied with the moral, spiritual, and social significance of the humble sandwich. According to one of the characters, it is the most democratic of all foods, a full meal that can be held between two hands, and a pathway to redemption for those brave enough to attempt to create the perfect sarnie. In the intimacy of the Tower Theatre, ingredients for imaginary concoctions are reeled off with relish, verbally stacked up with such enthusiasm that when a sandwich maestro drops a final flourish of ‘dill’, the audience murmurs with appreciation.
The scene is the kitchen of a Pennsylvania truck-stop diner, which Clyde (a commanding Layomi Coker) rules in a reign of terror. Everyone who works there has served time in prison, and Clyde enjoys reminding her staff that this run-down eatery is their only option for survival. The set is mostly lit with a dingy, yellow light while the stained, cracked tiles of the walls and floors evoke a sense of the prison bars the characters struggle to leave behind. A red-lit window through which Clyde appears with threats and sandwich orders underlines the fact she’s likened more than once to the devil.
The kitchen staff are carefully delineated - Rafael (Benedict Cezair-Thompson) is wide-eyed and romantic in orange, skipping across the stage when he’s not at the grill. New arrival Jason (Ciarán Lawless) on the other hand is dressed in muted greys and blues and covered with white supremacist tattoos, jittering with nervous energy. Letitia, wearing bright pink, swings between frustration, excitement and despair, which Sabrina Robinson captures with every slice of lettuce and crackle of sandwich paper. Each character tends to occupy their ‘lane’ of the kitchen in a segment of the stage and Robinson, closest to the centre, is the heart of the action and the production’s navigation of pain and recovery, dancing with an easy joy with Rafael or delighting in needling Jason.
The cast’s chemistry and physicality are excellent, and the audience frequently gasped as sandwiches were hurled into the bin and mayonnaise was spread around with fingers. Under Phoenix Rayo’s direction, they invite the audience into the kitchen’s transformation into a hallowed space where the characters learn to reveal their rawest secrets. Crucial to this change is sandwich sensei Montrellous (Josiah Phoenix), who drifts in and out of the action to deliver morsels of wisdom like comparing a sandwich to a pulpit, alongside his latest culinary creations. A saintly figure, Montrellous is the counterpoint to the villainous Clyde, and they preach opposing sermons of meanness versus mercy.
Some of the Americanisms of the dialogue don’t quite land, which occasionally steals some of the energy from Nottage’s script. But Rayo and her cast ultimately preach an effective message. By the end of the play, the audience is sold on the idea that sandwiches are as good a vehicle as any for forgiveness, generosity, and self-respect, and come away triumphant about these characters’ potentials to transcend the systemic cruelties of a mean world.
As one audience member exited, they trilled, “I’ll never look at a sandwich the same way again!”
★★★★☆
By Olivia Konotey-Ahulu
Clyde’s is showing at Tower Theatre until 23 May