/peh-TO-lah/ (EPAP post)

May 1, 2019, 7:30-9pm

Emerson Paramount Center, Robert J. Orchard Stage

/peh-LO-tah/ a futbol framed freedom suite: Marc Bamuthi Joseph/The Living Word Project

I saw /peh-TO-lah/ Wednesday night at the Emerson Paramount Orchard Stage. This “freedom suite” looks at black joy and freedom through the lens of soccer – “the official sport of this spinning ball.” The backdrop displayed either a lighted circle (which I think represented the sun/moon and the football) or videos of soccer matches/players. At other moments, it showed video portraits of black people at different ages in traditional African outfits, but also in what seemed to be the clothes of 19th century European royalty. At first I thought these may be some versions of the dancers or the narrator, but I’m not totally sure who they were supposed to be. Maybe ancestors, or god-like figures watching the humans’ dance of joy and football? They tended to be emotionless at the beginning, but by the end they smiled, laughed, and moved around more.

The narrator (Marc Joseph) led the ensemble of 4 dancers (2 men, 2 women). His narration was a compelling mix of rap, poetry, and (often very funny) speech. (The audience’s favorite was when Marc said, “Kobe is old as shit. And he’s 5 years younger THAN ME!”) There was only a little music piped into some of the sections. Most of the sound was provided by the narration, beat-boxing, or (extraordinary) a capella singing by the dancers. At least one dancer was always on stage, accompanying the displayed video or narration. The dance often seemed to be stretches (like you might do before sports) combined with fluid movement/dance. I noticed that sometimes the female dancers weren’t entirely in sync with each other’s movements – like I assumed they would be – but the rhythm never dropped, and when they interacted together it was always in unison, if not in sync. This brought depth to their dancing, something I wouldn’t have expected.

As an outsider to both soccer and the black experience, this was an interesting performance to witness. While there were many aspects of the show that weren’t necessarily FOR me, I feel extremely honored to have witnessed heartbreak and joy through Joseph’s eyes. He described the show as “my own body as a positioned figure in both the language of sport and art,” creating “concurrent narrative maps.”

There were 4 (I think) sections where a member of the ensemble would come out and talk frankly, with humor, about an aspect of America that starves black joy. On the screen these were titled, for example, “The Midfielder Explains the NRA.” (The audience loved these, lots of laughs and claps and snaps.) In this section, one of the male cast members came out to try to “explain” the NRA. He asked, “NRA: who are you trying to stop? Or maybe, what are you trying to save?” The show opened with video of Trayvon Martin, and audio of George Zimmerman on the phone pursuing Trayvon, so this section are particularly poignant. (Joseph says later, “These murdered boys are cultural events.”) Our section narrator later explains that the opposite of freedom is not slavery. The opposite of freedom is living in perpetual fear. And that fear strikes where people are trying to get free: churches, schools, colleges. This was the most powerful section, in my opinion, but each “explanation” by the cast was smart, funny, and meaningful. These sections gave the audience and ensemble a chance to “discuss” the issues that influence our world, and this performance. It added depth to the dancing, and gave the performance an extra boost of the unique, multi-medium feel the show already possesses.

A lot of language used in the narration and the “… explains …” sections related soccer language to the language we use to talk about life. (I kept being surprised by how versatile and prevalent some of these words are.) He talks about how his parents, and immigrants in general, play life like they play soccer: run without the ball, keep moving, keep your eyes on the ball, never stop running, win by passing. In his discussion of black joy, Joseph asks if we can pass down the feeling of total joy and freedom in our heritage like we do heirlooms and stories. As a kid who loved soccer, and as a father who has a boy who loves soccer, Joseph spends time talking about what he learned from soccer, and what he wants “the boy” to learn. I loved and related to this – I think many of us learn important life lessons from the sports we did as a kid. (As a horseback rider I learned to prepare, be quiet, listen, and always – ALWAYS – get back on after I fell off.) Joseph discusses coaching his son’s soccer team, noting that kids don’t want to pass the ball – they want to score. But as time goes on, they learn that passing is the way to win. He also talks about how kids don’t care about freedom, because most of them have never experienced being unsafe. The language and lessons of soccer (“the only sport the whole world has agreed to play together”) are truly entrenched in the world.

We didn’t talk too much about the performance of sport in this class, but black artists finding freedom in their artistic expression is something about which we have talked extensively. Often in this course we brought together music, music videos, movies, tv, performance, literature together to discuss big ideas about black art and expression, often in the face of white oppression. /peh-TO-lah/ sort of felt like Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo: artists finding art in everything, from oppression and racism to cooking and sex. Often soccer drills/stretches are incorporated in the dance, with singing, beat-boxing, video, interviews, poetry, and rap layered on top, creating a multi-level world of life and art through Joseph’s eyes. The performance ended with a couple lines I loved: “Unmask the task of healing”/”an arctic blast of free at last, free at last.” We didn’t talk as much about how black art can heal, as well as free its creator – but I think that was an underlying message for some of the artists we studied. (It’s ironic that Joseph was injured the day before the performance, and was therefore literally healing as well.) This was a triumphant, glorious performance filled with equal parts anger, catharsis, passion, and freedom – I feel incredibly privileged to be able to witness it.