Some shows have warnings for strobe lights.
Some have them for loud gunshots.
Some for smoke.
MISSISSIPPI GODDAMN, a new play by Jonathan Norton should have one for intensity.
Granted, anyone attending a play about civil rights pioneer Medgar Evers set in 1963 Jackson, Mississippi, should expect some strife.
Blood in the battle for racial equality is no surprise, but friendly fire is.
Playwright Norton sets expectations on edge by focusing on the fight from the living room of the black neighbors next door to the Evers' home.
playwright Norton's novel take in an unflinching pressure cooker.
Considering the intensity, can you handle it? Considering the history, how can you not? Playwright Norton takes this historical kernel and creates a world in which only an] adolescent youth pursues an] idealistic aim and she does it with reckless abandon.
Everyone else has the more measured concerns that come with growing up and growing comfortable: family, job and property.
Their position tempers their pursuit of racial equality, so much so that the people he is championing perceive Evers as a threat.
On this score, the play transcends race and asks, At what cost, comfort?' To that end, playwright Norton turns the comfortable environ against itself.
With people driving by and knocks on the door, front and back, the middle class palace becomes a prison.
In a risky playwriting move, Norton moves the action four years back in time.
As confusing as it is, some of the mystery of the first act is preserved by reserving the backstory 'till the second.
Patterns emerge but by inverting the sequence, it comes off as discovery instead of predictability.
Call it The Prequel Effect'.
The tension mounts terrifyingly.
There's even some visceral combat.
There are some changes, though.
The Evers, Medgar and Myrlie, who we heard so much about in the first act, make their first appearance in the second.
The other great change is that Robbie is young and impressionable.
As thrilli.
