Clyde's | SnapShot Press Release
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“Do I look hungry?”
The question was rhetorical but I took the bait, blurting out from the darkness of the theater. .
“Yes! You do!”
Hunger exists where there is a void, or need for something more. It is the lack of satiation that we feel [& fill], that urges us to find a means of sustenance. Without it, we are empty, weak, and coercively vulnerable.
Excuse my pepper-jack cheese of linguistics, but Clyde is a hungry B*tch.
Sunday’s [November, 9th, 2024] Milwaukee Chamber Theater’s performance of Clyde’s, showcased the unhinged reality of the people who serve our society. This form of service comes with being a scapegoat for the power structures we call capitalism that demands the use of bread, lettuce, or cheese [those are all words for money, depending on who you are asking] as the means to survive.
From behind the kitchen door of a truck stop sandwich shop, this staff of “rehabilitated” individuals, shows us through the erudition of Lynn Nottage, a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwriter, how hard it can be to do better when surrounded by misery, after being locked away from the world.
Clyde’s is a purgatory-like place, equipped with stainless steel food prep islands, a smokey flap-top grill, and a loud commercial-grade refrigerator [It was real! I could hear the motor kick on and off like we were really in the kitchen. Nice Touch!]. But here there will be no Michelin stars. Instead, it is where Montrellous (Bryant Bentley) carefully crafts aspirations of hopes, one slice of bread at a time. It is where Letitia (N’Jameh Camara) grapples with her value between every piece of cheese and where Jason (Nate Press), repents through sprigs of parsley. It is where Rafael (Justin Huen) grieves over the grease. It is where dreams go to be broken, and souls go when they are desperate to survive.
This kitchen is a symbolic prison and Clyde [Lachrisa Grandberry] is the overseer, warden, and the Devil herself wrapped in spandex and pleather! Her abuse [mental, emotional, and the bruised back of Rafael proves it to be physical] is a reflection of her self-loathing. As an ex-con, she believes that hiring what she frames as a societal outcast gives her the prerogative to treat her employees like they are less than human [which sadly they are used to]. But it is the way Grandberry postures her raunchy, classless, erotica torture that makes her character so cringe-worthy. To make the crowd love you is beautiful, but to make them despise you is a wicked deed that pulls from the worst parts of humanity, forcing us to wipe crumbs of blissful delusion off our faces. Lachrisa girl, YOU DID THAT!
I found myself rooting for the world's underdog as they spilled their hearts out sharing the stories of how they became incarcerated. Montrellous story offsets the scales of justice, as Bentley’s delivery demands you listen with your chest, and question how much you are willing to sacrifice for the greater good of others. Letitia, tormented my maternal instinct [first when she chopped that lettuce into oblivion], N’Jameh playing up her ability to evoke empathy with her climatic cadence [Stop trying to make me cry now. You already had me with ILLIAD, LOL]. Rafael’s desperate need to prove his love to others is a fatal flaw, and Huen seems to be a master of humility and sensitivity. But Jason. . should we forgive him? The Black woman in me tingled with the, “now you know how it feels” mantra, that is only triggered when “justice” falls on the door of the socially privileged. But Press, made me believe that the internal torture he felt was real.
Kudos to Director, Dimonte Henning, who did not skirt away from the “nasty” [metephorically and literally]. From the scandalous gestures of Clyde [I mean Rated R and Rated Hillarious] to the transitions of BTS kitchen life between scenes, it was a glimpse into the world we don’t often get to see.
It also made me crave a sandwich, something serious!
Clyde’s is for those who dare to eat havarti on a butter brioche, with heirloom tomatoes, a slather of cajun-style hot sauce, and a cucumber chutney [See I can make an epic sandwich recipe too. LOL], and dare to call it a “sammich”. In other words, it is the hole in the wall of art we should steep ourselves in because you never know what might send you to Hell, purgatory, and back again.
Let’s stop judging, and well. . .Do better.
Lexi S. Brunson | Editor-in-Chief /CW
