REVIEW: 'Best of Enemies' spotlights the kind of stories some are trying to hide

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Theatre Tuscaloosa's "Best of Enemies" is a Mark St. Germain play based on Osha Gray Davidson's book "The Best of Enemies: Race and Redemption in the New South," published in 1996. It was adapted for theater in 2011, and made into a feature film in 2019, yet I'd be willing to bet few knew this story from school, though it happened not that long ago, 1971, nor that far away, in Durham N.C.

It revolves around seeming opposites: Ann Atwater (YaYa Browne), a fiery community organizer, and C.P. Ellis (Wescott Youngson), a Durham KKK poobah, rammed together by Bill Riddick (DeAnthony Mays), a Black man also from North Carolina, sent from the Department of Education to come up with a workable plan to desegregate Durham schools, 17 years after Brown v. Board of Education. The fourth face on stage is C.P.'s wife Mary (Melissa Grantham), who represents cooler heads, dedicated to the hard work of raising kids, with no energy left for hatred.

Riddick guides a process called charrette, mediation where sides present cases, then form a feasible plan of action, after 10 days of public meetings. Riddick saw in Atwater and Ellis leaders who'd help bring together folks who otherwise might not mix.

Wescott Youngson, DeAnthony Mays, and YaYa Browne, in Theatre Tuscaloosa's production of "Best of Enemies," running Feb. 17-26 in the Bean-Brown Theatre.
Wescott Youngson, DeAnthony Mays, and YaYa Browne, in Theatre Tuscaloosa's production of "Best of Enemies," running Feb. 17-26 in the Bean-Brown Theatre.

If you wrote it as fiction, the story couldn't get much more melodramatic. Youngson carries a heavyweight load of ugly, blatant hatred, digging under the skin of someone who could so casually spew venom, wish hazards on others. Even as he foams and fumes, Browne never backs down, not an inch, a tower of dignity and restraint ... well, mostly restraint. They come near to a violent clash, both on stage and in recounted previous history. The acrimony, washing out in waves, might make an audience member ball his fists in pain, in outrage and disgust.

Yet this is the kind of tale even opponents of Critical Race Theory might approve, if they'd make the time. CRT was developed by legal scholars in the '70s and '80s to clarify the misconception that societies and institutions had been rendered "colorblind," CRT has become a dog-whistle for political leaders, currently trying to ban teaching about racism in at least 44 U.S. states.

A real-life miracle evolves as Atwater and Ellis, gradually as the shifting of continents, grind down jagged edges, and begin to view commonalities. Both are poor, and poorly educated. Both struggle to survive: Ellis' KKK buddies boycott his business. Atwater loses her temper, and her job, after overhearing her white employer's blithe racism.

There's hopefulness, a touching and believable redemption, after an incredibly raw beginning. The show is played as one long act, understandably, as projected imagery and soulful '70s music between scenes ― It's a tad embarrassing to groove to Sly and the Family Stone as the story spools out, but any high-wire tussle benefits from occasional relief and release ― tie this further down to reality. A break may have broken the spell. Kudos to scene designer David Page, for juxtaposing suggestion against realism, and to Lyndell McDonald's musically smooth lighting, Jeanette Waterman's period costuming, Ava Buchana's matching work on hair and makeup ... and yeah, everybody stand! for Bart Pitchford's sound design. At the risk of sounding tasteless, it'd make a heckuva playlist/mix disc.

At heart, Ann and C.P., like most of us, believe they're doing their best for their own, for their kids, for the future. As verbal gut punches lower, basic work-conditioned reflex bridges gaps. The first time you see the two play (sorta) nice, they're simply collating and stapling papers together. It's a strangely effective moment, wordless and powerful. It foreshadows their mutual revelation: It's the U.S. class system that stymies. Powers-that-be maintain vested interest in keeping working people down, uneducated, and fighting amongst themselves.

Make it through the harsh clashes, and you may find yourself shivering, sobbing, or holding back so as to prevent making yourself a audible part of the show, when C.P.'s Mary quietly shows at Ann's to help out, as the Atwater family's struggling. Or when C.P. awkwardly but  determinedly articulates his feelings. Or when ... spoilers ... you see them, older, then older still, becoming the ones who show up for each other, when others wouldn't.

More:'Best of Enemies' brings together KKK, civil rights activist in an unlikely bond

If this had been a fiction, you could possibly accuse it of treacle, of improbability, of naivete. But director Michael Thomas Walker, and his cast and crew drive to abraid cynicism, in part via those between-scene reminders that yes, this happened just a short time back, and in part by keeping the energy, and some of the coarseness, throughout.

One issue arises when the show slows down and grows quieter, at moments. There's a difficulty with stage conversation, where a natural temptation is to let your volume, and more careful articulation, lower to what would be easy, face-to-face. But it's not so clear for someone eavesdropping 15 rows back. The script benefits from such ebbs and flows, but the production muddied in those moments, where dialogue could have been crisper. And despite the brisk one-act pace, I occasionally felt the desire for a scene, a speech, or moment, to stretch on a bit longer, to savor.

The actors' connections fade appropriately, sweetly, sadly, on quiet, honest reflections. Then, aptly, a last image glows up, one of the actual C.P. and Ann together, companionably. There doesn't seem to be an inch of space between. You can't really tell where one ends, and the other begins.

How to get tickets

Performances of "Best of Enemies" are scheduled for 7:30 p.m. Thursday and Friday, with 2 p.m. matinees Saturday and Sunday in the Bean-Brown Theatre at Shelton State Community College, 9500 Old Greensboro Road.

Tickets cost $19 for general admission; $17 for seniors, members of the military and SSCC employees; $14 for students, children, and groups of 10 or more; and $7 for SSCC students.

For more information, call 205-391-2277 or go to www.theatretusc.com/best-of-enemies. For facts about Critical Race Theory, see www.naacpldf.org/critical-race-theory-faq.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: 'Best of Enemies' spotlights history that some are trying to hide