‘Joe Turner’s Come and Gone’ review: August Wilson’s masterpiece

“Joe Turner’s Come and Gone,” arguably the finest work in August Wilson’s 10-play series chronicling the African American experience in the 20th century, is set in a boarding house in Pittsburgh in 1911. The Great Migration is underway, with millions of Black Americans moving from the rural South to the industrial North and Midwest in search of opportunity and freedom.

Gregg T. Daniel, who has been making his way through Wilson’s decade-by-decade cycle at A Noise Within, has infused his revival of “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” with a sense of momentous transit. The characters who stop for a time at the boarding house owned and operated by Seth (Alex Morris) and his wife, Bertha (Veralyn Jones), understand that this is a way station, a place to collect oneself before continuing on the fraught journey to an unknown future.

Slavery didn’t end with the Civil War, as Herald Loomis (Kai A. Ealy) knows only too well. He has arrived at the boarding house with his young daughter, Zonia (Jessica Williams), in tow. For seven years, Loomis was held captive in Joe Turner’s chain gang, abducted for being Black, forced into hard labor and separated from his wife, whom he has been searching for since his release.

Loomis has a turbulent presence that casts an anxious pall over the boarding house, re-created with a background view of Pittsburgh’s bridges by scenic designer Tesshi Nakagawa. Bynum (Gerald C. Rivers), a conjure man who serves as a spiritual guide for the other residents, understands right away that Loomis is a man who has lost his song, the imprint of his soul. But Seth sees nothing but trouble from his new guest and tells Loomis he must leave by Saturday.

Kai A. Ealy and Jessica Williams in “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” at A Noise Within.

(Craig Schwartz)

The timing works out because Saturday is when Rutherford Selig (Bert Emmett), a peddler and touted people finder, is expected to return with news of the whereabouts of Loomis’ missing wife, Martha (Tori Danner). Before he can press on as a free man, Loomis needs to know what happened to his wife.

Life keeps racing ahead whether the characters are ready or not. Jeremy (Brandon Gill), a new resident who’s part of the construction team of a new bridge but would rather be exercising his considerable skill on the guitar, is being harassed by the police when off duty and exploited by a white man when on the job. He romantically takes up first with Mattie Campbell (Briana James), who comes to Bynum to see if he can mystically bring back the man that left her. But after Molly Cunningham (Nija Okoro) flirtatiously moves in and Jeremy loses his job, his amorous attention turns to her, leaving Mattie once again in the lurch, though Loomis has already noticed what a fine “full” woman she is.

Gerald C. Rivers and Brandon Gill in “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” at A Noise Within.

(Craig Schwartz)

Daniel’s production, put into sharper focus by Kate Bergh’s costumes and Karyn Lawrence’s lighting, is at its best in capturing the rhythms and rituals of daily life. The ensemble (full of A Noise Within Wilson alums) melds miraculously as the characters share meals, stories, musical ecstasy and fits of laughter. Wilson had a genius for depicting how people do and don’t get along when they haven’t much choice about the company they keep. Jones, who was so brilliant in Daniel’s production of “King Hedley II” at A Noise Within is just as luminous here as the calming force at the boardinghouse. Her Bertha is the kindly, nurturing counterweight to Seth’s badgering boisterousness, a quality Morris infuses with just enough avuncular affection.

The more time we spend with Gill’s Jeremy, Okoro’s Molly and James’ Mattie, the more we can appreciate the fine-drawn nature of their portraits. The revival has some acoustical static and moments of mumbling, but “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” grows more lifelike and absorbing with each scene.

The spiritual standoff in the play is between Ealy’s Loomis and Rivers’ Bynum, and both actors bring a muscular reality to a reckoning that can no longer be postponed. Daniel’s staging loses its grip during the more hallucinatory scenes between the characters. The natural is a good deal more theatrically convincing than the supernatural in this production. But Ealy intensely conveys the threat of Loomis’ angry-somber brooding and Rivers lets us see that the source of Bynum’s otherworldly power is his humane vision.

Bynum is a seeker as well as a seer, inseparable from the struggles of his people. He shares that living sense of heritage that Wilson, who died in 2005, made the principal subject of his art. This production of “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” seems like a gift from the other side, that mysterious, creative realm where history is spiritualized.