cat on a hot tin roof
phillip harvey

Lead producer Stephen Byrd’s idea of re-interpreting classic theater productions evolved from his earlier flirtations with bringing historically based black American film projects to Hollywood. What followed was an over 10 year journey that has acutely personified the cliché-as-truth axiom of the power of persistence. Byrd began his mission to stage a Broadway production of Cat with a pre-emptive strike that would ultimately come up empty but would set the stage for this setting. The original version of Byrd’s vision employed the legendary director Lloyd Richards in the director’s chair and centered upon James Earl Jones as the central piece. Jones’ portrayal of Big Daddy was the planned draw with Laurence Fishborne slotted to play the role of Brick, Big Daddy’s prodigal son. The central role, made famous by Elizabeth Taylor’s star turn in the film adaptation, was to be assumed by Angela Bassett whose own star power had been significantly increased by her idol-solidifying portrayal of Tina Turner. With the primary pieces in place and excitement high it seemed only a matter of time before Cat would make its glorious debut on Broadway. Instead, the production collapsed under the weight of professional obligations and broken promises upon the precipice of realization.

Undeterred, Byrd regrouped and tried again, drawing inspiration from the run away success of The Color Purple’s Broadway run. For this effort, he recruited Alia Jones, a dynamo just a few years removed from New York University Business School who had no prior theater experience but came fully armed with a profoundly creative intellect and a knack for getting results. Next came the lining up of an all star roster of theatre professionals who have remained stalwart through defections, industry machinations, personal wavering and a host of other maladies that have historically derailed the most determined of productions. However, where the original production faltered, the new incarnation endured and when Byrd announced the production’s Broadway theater designation by stating “We’ve got real estate,” it was on.

But next came the question of how to take perhaps the most famous American play from one of the most distinguished American playwrights and successfully make it democratically American. In other words, make sentiments ostensibly written for white American characters flow authentically and mellifluously from the mouths of black American characters. As the first Broadway production to be vetted by the Tennessee Williams estate, Byrd’s production faces the challenge of bringing out the universality in the playwright’s work for the world. Fortunately, there is precedence for the effort. The first shot across the bow took place at TheatreVirginia in Richmond, VA in 1999. Actress and producer Tamara Tunie staged an all black production of Cat that tackled the underlying issues of transforming a wealthy land owning white family into a wealthy land owning black family. Directed by Kent Gash, Tunie’s production took on the question of universality head on by flushing out the details and drawing upon historical fact. The fact was there were wealthy black land owners in the time period Cat was originally set. The fact was the language and cultural norms prevalent in that portion of the country were shared by all that resided there. The truth is that the problems in human interaction the play probes so beautifully affect us all equally regardless of physical location. The challenge for Byrd’s production was to bring all of these facts, all of this truth, to Broadway.

Enter Debbie Allen. Much like when she rode in to save the television show, “Different World,” Bill Cosby’s prime time nod to the black college experience, Allen brought a sensibility that could deftly meld traditional and nontraditional notions of how human interactions should be presented. Allen shifted the show from being a vehicle for Lisa Bonet to an ensemble production that spotlighted the endearing interactions of a wide cast of individual characters. The result was an entertaining swirl of energies. In the second to third seasons, every episode seemed to be a theatre production in itself with each character receiving ample opportunity to express the depth necessary to give their roles corporeal form. The meshing of such a pot-pourri of personalities convincingly derived from the cross currents of the American black experience had not been captured prior and has not been duplicated, on a large scale, since.

But such is the promise of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. It is the promise of such magic that caused the congregation of Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem to rise en masse when Allen’s name was introduced during a recent Sunday service. It is the promise of such magic that hovers over the buzz of chit chat and industry speak that fills this room above mid-town Manhattan. In the story of its long journey to fruition, its barrier shattering historical implications and its potential to uncover more truths about the nature of the American experience, the 2008 version Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is the right play at the right time. With Allen at the helm and a cast of All Star actors motivated to make history, this latest incarnation of Williams’ timeless piece seems well placed to fulfill the aspirations that were once harbored by one man but now belongs too many in so many ways.