Friday, March 29, 2024

Keith A. Wallace’s ‘The Bitter Game’ Was Definitely Not Sour … An EUR Review

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*Imagine going to a play you know is being performed outdoors.  You walk up and are handed chalk and told to draw something on the ground.  There are buckets of sodas here and there that say, “Free, take one.”  Checkers and cards are set up on tables, a DJ is spinning some major jams and people are jumping rope and playing hopscotch and basketball.  That is exactly what happened at the play, “The Bitter Game,” which was recently performed at The Wallis in Beverly Hills.  Keith A. Wallace, the writer and actor behind The Bitter Game was walking through the audience mingling prior to the beginning of the play, handing out more freebies.  Does this sound like a party?  Good, because that was exactly what it was supposed to be and just what it felt like.  I walked up to the Wallis’ promenade bouncing like I was ready to get down.  The ambiance of a block party.  Keith’s mission … accomplished.

“The Bitter Game” is acted in quarters liken to a basketball game.  The first quarter had Keith, acting as the character eight year old Jamel Smith, introducing the audience to his North Philly neighborhood, where they were having a block party, playing basketball, bar-b-quing and having a good time.  He gave a vivid illustration of the neighborhood, right down to the nosey neighbor and the tennis shoes on the utility line.  Pop!  Pop! Pop!  Gunfire rang out and everyone took cover.  Jamel saw a gun for the first time.  Ut oh!

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The second quarter had Keith marching the audience to another portion of the promenade, where he is now portraying Jamel’s mother Pam.  Pam is more than a little pissed when she catches Jamel with a gun.  It is then she decides to talk to him about what it will take for him to survive being black in America and dealing with the police.  She told him, “Keep your head up.  Keep your eyes forward.  Keep your ego down.”

At halftime, we formed a Soul Train line.  Keith picked three members from the audience to showcase their dance skills…and showcase they did.  They were rewarded participation prizes for their effort.

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The third quarter was an adult Jamel, who was home from Vassar College to celebrate his mother’s 50th birthday. He was looking and feeling good in his rented car and his “new shoes that feel like they will take him somewhere.”  He mentioned that black kids only get new shoes twice a year and asked the audience what two times were they.  The audience gave the correct response: the beginning of the school year and Easter.

All of Jamel’s good vibes were blown when the police tailed him.   His stress level went up exponentially, as he recited the survival instructions his mother ingrained in him:  “Head up, eyes forward, ego down.  Keep your hands visible, forget pride, do everything a policeman tells you.  Don’t ask why, always comply.”   I was as anxious as Jamel, who eventually collapsed under the pressure and was murdered by the police; the police who stopped him because he did not have on a seatbelt.  Angry and hurt did not begin to describe how I felt.  I have two sons, so yes I was concerned about this senseless killing.   I had to remind myself that it was only a play.  Jamel was not dead.

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The fourth quarter and overtime was spent at Jamel’s memorial as Pam, with tears flowing, gave an impassioned plea that something must be done and “white silence is violence.”  The audience received candles, as we recited the names of young black people who were, “snatched from their mamas” because of police violence:  Michael Brown, Sandra Bland, Philando Castile and on and on.  We were told to record what was being said and then do something to change the system.  (He was actually talking to the white people in the audience, which was most of the audience.)

The show ended with the character who shot up the block party and piqued Jamel’s curiosity about guns.  He gave us what he called, “the history of America according to my black ass.”  He lamented that the criminal justice system was “rigged from the jump.”  He went on to say, “riots are the voice of the unheard; the forgotten.”

The Bitter Game was simultaneously entertaining and enlightening.  I enjoyed the performance and the message.  I hope the play spurs people with the power to act, into action and to realize black lives really do matter.  If you ever have an occasion to see this play, do not miss out.

marilyn smith
Marilyn Smith

Marilyn Smith is a Los Angeles based writer/reviewer.  Contact her via [email protected].

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