The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: NYTW’s The Half-God of Rainfall

By Ross

With a mystical donning of a strongly stated yellow hat, New York Theatre Workshop‘s dynamic and visually impressive play, The Half-God of Rainfall stomps forward, dribbling like a pro in a way that might make the Gods quake. Written poetically by Inua Ellams (Barber Shop Chronicles), this expansive rendering, as directed by Taibi Magar (ATC’s Blue Ridge), is a bold and barren wonderland of epic proportions, trying to elevate mythology to basketball heights. It’s a captivating idea, one that I had high hooped hopes for, yet, it falters in bits and pieces throughout. It gives high drama to the center court, capturing our vision solidly but losing us in its overtly narrative style and stilted delivery.

Blending Nigerian mythology with its Greek counterpoint, playwright Ellams leads the seven-person ensemble into a formation revolving around basketball and half-Gods that is both meticulous and distancing. It feels unique and powerful but somewhat problematic from the first whistle, as the epic poem is given a dance-like form, courtesy of movement direction Orlando Pabotoy (CSC’s The Cherry Orchard). It presents a backdrop like nothing I have seen before at NYTW, thanks to some exquisite work by set designer Riccardo Hernández (Broadway’s The Thanksgiving Play), with powerful lighting by designer Stacey Derosier (NYTW’s How To Defend Yourself), and a heap of dynamic creativity by projection designer Tal Yarden (PAA’s The Damned), but it’s not enough to keep us leaning forward in anticipation. The landscape draws us in, most definitely, delivering us to all the foreign realms of this conflict, and even when the formation in front of us is compromised, the scene astonishes; from the massive ring of rain-power above to the earthy landscape that muddies the earth below.

Multiple Gods step forth from the line-up of seven, pulling from sources wide and clear, played to magnified dynamic by a cast of pros. Sángó, played by Jason Bowen (Audible’s Long Day’s Journey into Night); Hera, astutely portrayed by Kelley Curran (TFANA’s The Winter’s Tale); Osún, intuitively portrayed by Patrice Johnson Chevannes (Vineyard’s Good Grief); Zues, dynamically portrayed by Michael Laurence (Public’s Coal Country); and Elegba, portrayed regally by Lizan Mitchell (Public’s cullud wattah); are primed and ready to wage heightened war, delivering their Godly forms with a grand air of empowerment and righteousness. Shifting from side to side in order to protect and defend, they stand forth like players on a world court ready to play ball, all in the name of Modúpé, played by Jennifer Mogbock (Stratford’s King John), and her half-God son of Zeus, Demi, powerfully played by the handsome and fit Mister Fitzgerald (Broadway’s Ohio State Murders). But the question remains, Do we care enough about the players and the property to stay cheering for the hopeful outcome?

The actors narrate their movements and speak their character’s lines with force and power, losing us sometimes in the convoluted structuring of its storytelling style, but keeping us somewhat tuned in to the mythology of basketball star legends. Basketball, a sport taken seriously by Nigerian children at play with an NBA energy, is the space where mythology is cloaked and blended with legend and star power. Demi (Fitzgerald), being the son of Zeus, plays with a supernatural strength and skill, swishing balls into the hoop as if assisted by Gods. Wearing the uniform of the game, thanks to the random, sometimes great and sometimes sloppy costuming of Linda Cho (MTC’s Summer, 1976), the journey through the tale never enters into my adrenaline system, keeping me present but one shot removed.

The story is complicated and bombastic at times, courtesy of the solid sound design by Mikaal Sulaiman (Broadway’s Fat Ham), mocking both the excitement and indulgence of American sports culture and “The Art of War“, a book read by Sángó (Bowen), a Nigerian thunder god, training his team for the game. The language and structure draw us through, giving us visuals like magnificent fabric rivers flowing wide that are luscious and captivating, but with a storyline that seems almost superfluous and diminishing the more we play on.

By the end, the story becomes something quite different, focusing not so much on Demi, but on the mother, Modúpé (Mogbock), and the woman before her who were victimized by Zeus (Laurence) and his privilege, power, and hunger. It shifts into a battle cry that is more feminist than mythology. Not a terrible thing but one that gets a bit lofty for the court. It’s as powerful as the violent waters that Osún (Chevannes) controls, but as detached from my soul as me watching a game of basketball on the television. The visuals are impeccable and the most engaging part of NYTW‘s The Half-God of Rainfall but I left, in the end, uninspired by the language, the poetry, and its overly hyped delivery. I guess, a tie game, with no clear winners overall.