The choreographer Raja Feather Kelly’s dance-theater works have made him a mainstay on the downtown arts scene. With his latest piece, “The Fires,” Kelly is making his debut as a playwright. Rarely does a show live up so honestly to its title — wrecking and illuminating in equal measure.
In his lustrous, emotionally textured play, which opened on Tuesday at Soho Rep, three gay Black men are stuck in a railroad apartment. But those men — Jay, Sam and Eli — are not roommates; they live in the same space across separate time periods: 1974, 1998 and 2021. Since the actors rarely leave the elongated stage, the characters’ stories play out in tandem.
In the ’70s, Jay (Phillip James Brannon) lives with his lover, George (Ronald Peet), and becomes depressed while journaling about the Greek goddess Aphrodite, whom, he claims, is gravely underestimated: More than a mere mirthful goddess of love, Aphrodite was vengeful, war-driven and unsettled because, like Jay, she never knew her real father. Sam (Sheldon Best) in the ’90s is George’s son. He feels deeply misunderstood but finds a kinship with his recently deceased father while reading the journals he and Jay left in the apartment. Eli (Beau Badu) in the 2020s has the most sexual freedom but is stuck playing a tug-of-rope game with Maurice, (Jon-Michael Reese), a tender young man who has the potential to be Eli’s great love.
Kelly does not have these characters speak directly to one another across time, but there are parallels in each scene that evoke a ghostly connection between the men. And the idea is supported by the scenic designer Raphael Mishler’s set: Most of the 1974 scenes occur on our left in a bedroom with a fireplace, typewriter and a retro two-knob radio; for the majority of the 2021 scenes, our attention is directed to the right, to a living room with an electric fireplace, Eli’s laptop and a smart speaker. Time and technology leap forward, but human desire for heat, expression and a groove remain the same.
Jumbling timelines on a railroad apartment of a set does present some direction challenges, as when characters in one period trek right in front of (but aren’t acknowledged by) characters in another. You can find yourself ping-ponging between these freewheeling vignettes, desperate to catch all of the action.
Mercifully, there is some light peeking through the darkness of this play. Well-timed comedic moments prove that queer Black life (and, thus, queer Black love) can at times be tragic and hilarious. Kelly balances much of the men’s melancholy with memorable performances from other cast members, including Janelle McDermoth as Sam’s quick-witted, fiery-lipped younger sister, and Jason Veasey, as Jay’s model-masculine brother in 1974 and then Eli’s droll, keto-devoted friend in 2021. And then there is Michelle Wilson, as Sam’s devoted mother, Leslie, who expertly carries the weight of a complicated character hit repeatedly with tragedy. When her emotional break comes, its intensity is almost unbearable.
By the show’s conclusion, it’s evident that playwriting should be considered only partially novel terrain for Kelly who has, in fact, grappled with narrative for years. Even without eight counts, “The Fires” is undeniably another dance. The expressionistic way Jay goes mad while conjuring his Greek muse is butoh. The woeful way Sam mopes around his apartment while grieving is a contemporary dance. The hyper-anxious way Eli pushes away and pulls in his lover is a tango. The graceful way all three and their stories twirl is nothing short of balletic.
The Fires
Through June 16 at the Soho Rep, Manhattan; sohorep.org. Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes.
