Apex-based actor-playwright weaves facts, questions
By Roy C.
Dicks, Correspondent
CHAPEL HILL -- The basic facts of the Emmett Till case are well known.
The
14 year-old African-American was brutally beaten and murdered in 1955
on a visit to relatives in Mississippi. His white assailants deemed
this appropriate punishment for Till's whistling at a white girl. The
assailants, who admitted in court to kidnapping the boy but denied the
murder, were acquitted of all charges.
The recent re-examinations of the case, including documentary films and the exhumation of Till's body for DNA testing, have shed new light on the incident, while still leaving unanswered questions. Apex-based actor-playwright Mike Wiley has woven these facts and questions into a riveting evening of theater, "Dar He: The Lynching of Emmett Till." The cryptic main title becomes devastatingly clear within the show.
Describing the production as a one-man show is misleading, for Wiley portrays nearly two dozen characters during the 90-minute piece: black, white, male, female, young, old, city slicker, farm worker. The distinct differentiations of accent, voice range, body language and characters' mindset would be impressive enough if played one after another, but Wiley changes back and forth in an instant, often creating the illusion that two people are conversing. The barrage of characters is a little overwhelming at first, but the audience adjusts as they become familiar.
Wiley avoids caricature portraying the female characters, morphing easily into the giggling store clerk, the gregarious old aunt, the unapologetic mother of the murderers. He also finds enough genuine humor to give the horror some respite.
Wiley employs no changes of costume or makeup. His sole prop is a white cloth that can become a handkerchief, a whiskey bottle, even a headless chicken. Cigarettes, money, a bottle of Coke, a steering wheel -- all are mimed with skilled accuracy.
All of this could draw attention to the actor, the tour-de-force aspect overshadowing the subject matter. It is to Wiley's great credit that he focuses his formidable talents on the gut-wrenching story, allowing the audience to clearly understand each character's strengths and foibles. His portrayal of the white assailants is chilling, that of Till's grieving mother heart-rending.
This production is extremely confident and polished, thanks to the experienced eye of director Serena Ebhardt. There is no wasted gesture, no extra padding. The pacing of the first act is forceful and compelling as it leads up to the murder; the second act less so only because the courtroom and funeral scenes are innately less intense. Ben Davis' multimedia design enhances Wiley's projections of photos from the period and integrates the various sound effects, from gospel choirs to gunshots.
The piece is hard-hitting and unsparing, the depiction of the beating and mutilated body especially disturbing. But that should stop no one from attending this painful but necessary reminder of how far we've come -- and how far we still need to go -- in race relations in this country.
The recent re-examinations of the case, including documentary films and the exhumation of Till's body for DNA testing, have shed new light on the incident, while still leaving unanswered questions. Apex-based actor-playwright Mike Wiley has woven these facts and questions into a riveting evening of theater, "Dar He: The Lynching of Emmett Till." The cryptic main title becomes devastatingly clear within the show.
Describing the production as a one-man show is misleading, for Wiley portrays nearly two dozen characters during the 90-minute piece: black, white, male, female, young, old, city slicker, farm worker. The distinct differentiations of accent, voice range, body language and characters' mindset would be impressive enough if played one after another, but Wiley changes back and forth in an instant, often creating the illusion that two people are conversing. The barrage of characters is a little overwhelming at first, but the audience adjusts as they become familiar.
Wiley avoids caricature portraying the female characters, morphing easily into the giggling store clerk, the gregarious old aunt, the unapologetic mother of the murderers. He also finds enough genuine humor to give the horror some respite.
Wiley employs no changes of costume or makeup. His sole prop is a white cloth that can become a handkerchief, a whiskey bottle, even a headless chicken. Cigarettes, money, a bottle of Coke, a steering wheel -- all are mimed with skilled accuracy.
All of this could draw attention to the actor, the tour-de-force aspect overshadowing the subject matter. It is to Wiley's great credit that he focuses his formidable talents on the gut-wrenching story, allowing the audience to clearly understand each character's strengths and foibles. His portrayal of the white assailants is chilling, that of Till's grieving mother heart-rending.
This production is extremely confident and polished, thanks to the experienced eye of director Serena Ebhardt. There is no wasted gesture, no extra padding. The pacing of the first act is forceful and compelling as it leads up to the murder; the second act less so only because the courtroom and funeral scenes are innately less intense. Ben Davis' multimedia design enhances Wiley's projections of photos from the period and integrates the various sound effects, from gospel choirs to gunshots.
The piece is hard-hitting and unsparing, the depiction of the beating and mutilated body especially disturbing. But that should stop no one from attending this painful but necessary reminder of how far we've come -- and how far we still need to go -- in race relations in this country.
