Radio Golf

When August Wilson delivered the tenth installment of his "Century Cycle," he was not only delivering the last remaining episode, but the final chronological piece to his shuffled, decade-by-decade saga of the African-American experience in the 20th Century.

Terrence Riggins as Harmond Wilks and Kim Staunton as Mame Wilks Photo: Terry Shapiro

Critics didn't understand what they were seeing, partly because they lacked the political breadth to grasp Wilson's argument, and partly because Wilson—as a great artist—is a prophet as well, and the conditions that would fulfill his vision had not become apparent to those without his foresight.

But now, on the Stage Theatre in Denver and on the world stage, and with director Israel Hicks becoming the first person to direct the entire series at one venue, we can truly appreciate that Wilson saved his most telling message for last. He deked us by skipping around, giving us a taste of this and that, setting us up for the knockout, like Ali's "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

Darryl Alan Reed as Roosevelt Hicks Photo: Terry Shapiro

We are once again in the Hill District of Pittsburgh, the site of nine of the plays (the lone exception being Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, which takes place in a recording studio in Chicago). The year is 1997. Mame (Kim Staunton) is telling her husband, Harmond Wilks (Terrence Riggins), that his construction office, which he shares with his partner, Roosevelt Hicks (Darryl Alan Reed), should not serve as the headquarters for his mayoral campaign, which should be located in Shadyside, the ritzy part of town.

Moments later, Roosevelt appears with an artist's rendering and scale model of the proposed redevelopment that will bring Whole Foods, Starbuck's, and Barnes and Noble to the Hill District.

Terrence Riggins as Harmond Wilks Photo: Terry Shapiro

On the surface, Harmond's future looks bright: His wife is a shrewd political advisor—she's being courted by the governor to serve as an aide—who knows just what to do to make him the first black mayor of Pittsburgh; and his partner is a silver-tongued salesman who has sweet-talked the ultimate gentrified anchor franchises to participate in their multi-use real estate venture.

As the man-in-the-middle, Riggins' charismatic Harmond makes the most of the in-the-round setting, observing the other characters from every angle as he ruminates over his options, exuding the confidence of someone who's his own man.

Stauton's Mame is every bit as persuasive and focused as Harmond, his equal in politics and marriage, just as Reed's Roosevelt is as clever and ambitious as Harmond, his equal in business and the partnership (and, as it turns out, his apparent equal on the golf course, judging from the work-in-progress grips and practice swings the men evince).

Harvy Blanks as Sterling Johnson Photo: Terry Shapiro

To this upwardly mobile trio, Wilson adds two throwbacks to the historical and biblical threads he has woven throughout his epic—Sterling Johnson (Harvy Blanks), a handyman, and Elder Joseph Barlow (Charles Weldon), a latter-day Diogenes—both with police records, both street philosophers.

Right out of the box, Blanks' Sterling is lighting in a bottle, relentlessly energetic and intense, working over Harmond with his prescient observations and cutting metaphors. Weldon's Barlow is sly as a fox, conjuring jewels of wisdom in a manner so unpresumptuous (and sneaky), we never see the punch line until it's upon us. Wilson has tricked us into seeing these guys as a bit crazed, a bit touched, then he floors us with their wisdom.

Charles Weldon as Elder Joseph Barlow Photo: Terry Shapiro

Hick's deep resonance with the material and the actors (five of the six have appeared previously in his productions of this series) delivers such a cohesive vision that it leaves us wondering what Wilson could possibly have considered unfinished when he passed on.

In the end, not only does Wilson find love where we think it has been extinguished by ambition, but he anticipates the present crisis facing the planet and gives us a clear choice, much as Obama said in his acceptance speech in Denver, "It's not about me, it's about you."

"August Wilson Way" at the east portal to Seattle Center's theatre district Photo: Bob Bows

Both Wilson and Obama are telling us that we must be the change. If we want Obama to do something, we must act to create the impetus. With Wilson, he prophetically illustrates that we can either be ruled by money (Roosevelt/Wall Street) or our hearts (Harmond/Main Street). It's the same message as another famous prophet: "You cannot worship G-d and mammon."

This is the stuff of the classics and with it Wilson joins the immortals.

The Denver Center Theatre Company's production of August Wilson's Radio Golf runs through April 25th. 303-893-4100 or denvercenter.org.

Bob Bows