Daring to dream bigger when surrounded by poverty, hopelessness and resignation is the thought-provoking subject of "Milk Like Sugar," a surprisingly uplifting new play by Kirsten Greenidge.
Centered around three urban African-American teenage girls who deliberately plan to get pregnant ("PG") because they think it's cool, the edgy, thoughtful drama opened Tuesday night off-Broadway at Playwrights Horizons, in a joint production that also includes Women's Project and the La Jolla Playhouse.
Greenidge's crackling, often humorous dialogue is in the vernacular of inner-city residents who deliberately distort language. Her characters speak frankly and realistically, often in snippets or unfinished sentences, liberally sprinkling their talk with "ain't" and expletives, and frequently address one another as "yo." (643 times). Metaphors about flames, burning and flying are nicely woven throughout the story, along with lyrical symbolic imagery.
Rebecca Taichman directs a series of short, snappy scenes with flair and sensitivity, drawing out the complexities in all seven characters with the aid of an excellent cast, even using fluid, dreamlike scene changes to extend dramatic moments.
Angela Lewis is mercurially expressive as just-turned-16 Annie, alternately sweet, tough, confused or distressed. Annie's trying to figure out her future path while remaining tight with her two best friends, fierce Talisha (Cherise Boothe, glaring, chin jutting and tough as "Miss T's" long, blingy nails) and sweet-natured, newly pregnant Margie (played with appealing naivete and cheer by Nikiya Mathis.)
The three blithely form their pregnancy pact mostly so they can have a joint baby shower to get expensive gifts, like "a Coach diaper bag," even though all their families are working-class poor. The girls think a baby will be an adorable, snuggly little accessory to dress up and play with. Otherwise typical teenagers, they're obsessed with status brands and fancy cellphones, despite their own limited circumstances.
Tony Award-winner Tonya Pinkins is memorably mean as Annie's depressed, hard-hearted mother, Myrna, who resents her children for cutting short her own childhood. A cleaning lady in an office building, Myrna doesn't take time to talk with Annie or encourage her to dream of success. Pinkins gives an impressive performance, making her tired, beaten-down character almost sympathetic, until she and Annie finally have an explosive argument.
LeRoy McClain is warmly engaging as tattoo artist Antwoine, with whom Annie develops a special connection, although she sets her baby-daddy sights on Malik (a smart portrayal by J. Mallory-McCree) a grade ahead of her in high school. But Malik is serious about getting out of their dead-end neighborhood, and shares his dream of escaping to college, encouraging her to start thinking along the same lines.
Adrienne C. Moore nicely conveys the emotions and secrets driving Keera, an odd new student who "talks like a cat poster in the library" according to Annie; but Keera's spirituality and optimism also put new ideas into Annie's head.
Dark clouds gather as the play progresses and characters reveal some disturbing secrets. The "milk" in the play's title turns out to be powdered, involving another of Greenidge's generally clever metaphors. Mimi Lien's modern, minimal set is dominated by a claustrophobic concrete wall, framed in neon, and Toni-Leslie James provides a delightful range of costumes that well-represent the characters.
With her memorable characters, Greenidge entertainingly shines a light on serious socioeconomic issues in communities that become impoverished emotionally as well as financially.
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