Review: The Mountaintop

© Joan Marcus

One of history’s greatest ironies is that Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his soaring “I’ve have been to the mountaintop” speech on the very night before his death. Now, emerging playwright Katori Hall has imagined the events of that final evening at the Lorraine Motel in her work The Mountaintop.  This Olivier-Award winning play, being presented on Broadway in a production starring Samuel L. Jackson and Angela Bassett, is a theatrical tour de force.

 

As magnetically played by Jackson, King is here presented as a compellingly human figure: exhausted, battling a cold; deeply upset about the Vietnam War and concerned about his safety. He also apparently has “stinky feet,” and desperately needs cigarettes and coffee.

 

Supplying the latter items is Camae (Bassett), the attractive chambermaid who delivers them to his room during a torrential rainstorm. Sassy, provocative and a bit flirtatious, she stirs more than just friendly interest from King.

 

At first the two playfully banter over such lighthearted matters as whether King should keep his moustache and the proper poses to strike while smoking—meanwhile, the periodic bursts of thunder have him flinching as if they were gunshots. But the encounter soon takes a more surreal tone, as Camae, who describes God as a black woman, turns out to have a very particular agenda.

 

While the playwright is not fully successful in elevating her work into a deeper commentary on the progress of racial relations in America, The Mountaintop is so entertaining and insightful along the way that it hardly matters. And whatever deficiencies there are in the writing are compensated for by the masterful staging of Kenny Leon, who--aided by David Gallo’s amazing set and projections-- delivers a stunningly climactic coup de theatre.

 

Although he bears little physical resemblance to King and doesn’t truly alter his distinctive vocal mannerisms, Jackson, with the aid of subtle make-up and hair styling, is a reasonable facsimile. More to the point, he’s hilariously funny—never more so than during an aggrieved phone conversation with God—as well as deeply moving when conveying the civil rights leader’s fears and vulnerabilities. 

 

Bassett is even better, stealing the show with her wildly raucous and earthy portrayal that fully mines her character’s humorous and otherworldly qualities. And her delivery of Hall’s superbly written poetic monologue encapsulating modern black history is blisteringly visceral. It’s very early in the season, but it’s hard to imagine a performance that could beat this one come awards time.

 

Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, 242 W. 45th St. 212-239-6200. www.Telecharge.com.