I’m a hard sell, especially when it comes to theatre in Los Angeles.  Hopelessly ingrained with the most pretentious Broadway sensibilities and often referred to as the “Theatre Shark”—even in the East Village—I have visceral reactions when driving down Hollywood’s (in)famous Theatre Row.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for experimental work, but after a full lineup of slapped-together shows with titles like Student Symbots from Outer Space,  Chive Me Sideways, and Borkish,  I’m induced into a critical coma in which all regulatory body functions fly out the window, including any semblance of etiquette or restraint.  It’s not unusual for me to pull into the $2 DIY-carwash just to clear my head with some cheap self-labored suds.

          But every once in a while, I find a New York-caliber diamond in the experimental LA rough.  Ben Bradley’s interpretation of August Wilson’s Gem of the Ocean, now playing at the Fountain Theatre until November 16, is one such gem.  A different kind of coma has come over me for having seen this play; I’ve been bitten by dissociative writer’s block, a disease of literary inadequacy that only comes from being inspired beyond words.  Here’s my best attempt: 

          Colored by the playwright’s own rich inter-racial history in Pittsburgh, Wilson’s Gem tells the story of Citizen Barlow, whose soul has been freshly marred by a crime of conscience in which a man lost his life.  To survive this moral crisis, he frantically seeks the help of the oracular Aunt Ester, whom he has been told, makes her business of effectively “washing souls.”  The earthy but mystical Ester, who is reported to be nearly 3 centuries old, takes him into her home for the spiritual adventure of his young life.  

          This transcendent production is housed in the intimate Fountain Theatre—we’re talking walk-with-a-crouch intimate here—and the stage was impeccably dressed by Travis Gale Lewis and Dean Cameron.  The 1904 Pittsburgh Hill household on Wylie Avenue drips with Old World meets Out of This World charm, sporting an authentic turn-of-the-century hand-operated water pump and imported hand-carved African statues.    

          Entering Wilson’s world of cryonic racial tension takes some warming up to, and this performance was no exception.  Director Bradley brings the audience in auspiciously, effectively laying a foundation of disquietude.  We meet Ester’s servile adopted family: Eli (played with devotion and an endearing uncouth by Jeris Lee Poindexter) and Black Mary (played icily with unrelenting provocation by Tene Carter Miller).  Aunt Ester’s entrance seems antithetical but is appropriate to the production’s mystic realism.  The intense and multi-layered performance given by expertly-cast Juanita Jennings does Wilson’s Ester high justice.  Jennings has a far-reaching presence in her portrayal of this mysteriously regal woman who spends most of her time in a single room, out of view.  Ester talks freely and in allegory, is all at once compassionate, redolent and stoic.