Paul Robeson

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

When the lights go down, a time warp whirls time and space, and Paul Robeson stands thoughtfully leaning on the back of a chair musing over why he cannot attend the gala at Carnegie Hall in his honor. Blink the eyes, shake the head, but Robeson continues to stand there.

Shadow Theatre Company celebrates Black History month with Philip Hayes Dean’s explicit, beautifully constructed play, Paul Robeson.

Running only through next weekend, call Shadow Theatre Company now, and beg Jeffrey Nickelson to extend the run. With sold out houses, it is not possible for everyone who needs to see this production to experience it. This is an Oh-My-God play starring Russell Costen that not only celebrates Black History Month, but also wraps it in gold, handing it over on a silver platter, reminding everyone in its path it is more than Black History, it is our History. Not history of a 100 years ago, or even 50, but the right here, right now history we create minute-by-minute. The issue may be subtler, but the issues are there.

Costen blows the mind with an astonishing distinctive knockout performance. Surrounded by a simple elegant set dressed in black and red designed by Michael R. Duran who also provided implicit direction, Costen precisely, deliberately talks through significant events in Robeson’s life leading up to this night he cannot bring himself to attend.

From the slowed down 75-year-old body, Costen slips into the demeanor of a teenager appealing to his Father on behalf of his brother, Reeves. For a one-man show, the stage gets crowded with memorable conversations with family, friends, and acquaintances of Robeson. At first glance it is only Robeson remembering the conversations, but Costen carries the action into a new dimension. So intent, so precise, so real is the conversation the imaginary objects of his focus come alive. Because he sees them, reacts to them, so can the audience. Although the events spanned a good portion of Robeson’s life, in addressing the audience, asking rhetorical questions, the moment so real, something there was that solicited a wanting to answer him. I had to catch myself several times from leaping out of my chair.

Paul Robeson: lawyer, speaker, actor, athlete, singer, and a deliberate outspoken advocate for civil liberties, who once said he could die for his beliefs because there would be others to carry on his voice. He so frightened trophy leaders of the United States his passport was revoked by the House Un-American Activities Committee. Some frightened tormented souls tried stopping him in his tracks, but stopped he could not be.

One of most tender memorable conversations takes place in Germany when Robeson converses with a 12-year-old, three-foot dwarf who with obvious agony could make the piano sit up and talk. In the reflection of Robeson’s words, and Costen’s eyes, the little girl came alive. She was promised when he returned to Germany she would accompany him on stage with her favorite song of his, “Danny Boy.” He did return to Germany, but times had changed. Germany was not the same. Her father wore the mark of a Jew. Nazi’s surrounded Robeson, threatening him. Maria had been taken away. Strange with all of the documentation on Germany’s menacing threat resulting in the holocaust, with all of the first-hand accounts of living through the gas chambers, that few minutes on stage of Robeson’s account brought the horror despair and man’s inhumanity to man more real than anything else.

Costen not only wraps himself snugly in Robeson’s skin, but also wraps himself snugly in his soul. Or is it the other way around? Perhaps Costen zipped up the skin of Robeson so snugly, Robeson’s soul sat on his head, melting over and through Costen’s energy. How it happened really doesn’t matter. What matters is: it happened. Costen, a master of his craft, a skilled sensitive artist, is Robeson.

Astonishing how after we as a country treated the Africans as slaves, less than intelligent human beings, comes such power, strength, wisdom and courage.

This production is a prize, and whoever experiences it, wins. Robeson stands as a power to be reckoned with now. Russell Costen is simply an astonishing master of his trade.