A one-person, multi-character show can be a lesson in psychology as well as dynamic theater when it’s done well. Door of No Return, written and performed by Nehassaiu deGannes, is a thought-provoking and entertaining exploration. She shape shifts through vivid personalities, reminding us of what a long and varied line of ancestors march behind us at every step. The performance, directed by Kelli Wicke Davis, is at Brown University’s Rites & Reason’s Theatre (through February 11).
The title refers to the gateways that Africans passed through on their way to slavery. As the narrator Poet, deGannes explains that this performance was inspired in Ghana when a Wampanoag friend made a ritual out of stepping through such an oceanside doorway in the opposite direction, returning to the Africa of her forbearers in a sacred manner.
As that indicates, deGannes is not limiting this genealogical exploration to those who consider themselves African-American first and foremost. The people who tell us their stories — the incidents of which are all true, the playwright assures us — include a young man, a Colombian-American, whose life takes him to prison for seven years before he ends up studying at Brown; and a woman named Fatima, who is a classical singer from an academic family and Jewish neighborhood, whose Iraqi last name only draws frowns post-9/11. One of the satisfactions of this play is how well deGannes gives varied and convincing traits to these characters, and Fatima’s upper-class notes are piped just sweetly enough to make her distinctive and interesting.
The principal character is Hermione Cruz, an 18th-century ex-slave from Jamaica and self-described tour guide, shaman, scribe, and DJ. If deGannes made this fast-talking, joking woman any more animated, Hermione who would get her own Pixar movie. Her main trauma was having her daughter Perdita stolen from her in a Newport holding pen while she was sleeping. As delightful as Hermione’s singing and dancing about overcoming oppression and depression are, deGannes as little Perdita is even more engaging. It’s not just the cuteness, it’s the open-eyed hopefulness and vitality, which helps us see how human beings can survive with spirit intact in dire circumstances.
As with that sort of ironic message of affirmation, deGannes takes pains to avoid trivializing while she entertains. One character is an out-and-out French lounge chanteuse, warbling her story to us microphone in hand like a bawdy Edith Piaf. Yet she is Marie-Josèphe-Angélique, a slave who was tortured and hanged in 1734 for setting a fire (she was furious that her master had sold her) that burned down a good portion of Montreal. Talk about your strong-minded women.
Slavery is not given short shrift amidst the high spirits. A sail towers above a stage that has portions of a huge sea anchor jutting out. The Middle Passage is a constant presence. We get the stories of such enslaved Africans as Maroka, owned by a preacher, whose babies were given away to neighbors after they were baptized. Another slave, appropriately named Patience, is told upon being given her freedom — six years after it was promised — that she can take with her only a cow or one of her two daughters.
