Skip to main content

REVIEW: Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers at Tarragon Theatre

int(101784)
/By / Mar 19, 2022
SHARE

When it hits, it hits hard.

When it doesn’t, it recovers quickly and with grace.

Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers, written by and starring Makambe K. Simamba and presented as a co-production between Tarragon and Black Theatre Workshop, is a “prayer for Black life,” a requiem for lost generations of Black men, a ceremony, a dirge. Simamba’s gut-punch of a monologue defies genre. I’m not the first person to be impressed by it — the piece won two Dora awards in 2019, both for solo performance and for writing.

Before digging into the performance, I’ll state plainly: Simamba’s “main audience” for this piece, as articulated in the above-linked Star preview, is Black teens. That’s not me — I’m a white woman in my early twenties, and there are surely elements of this performance which didn’t resonate with me on a personal level as deeply as they might have for other audience members. But the play’s content is ubiquitous — the racial reckonings it references won’t be breaking news to any audience member, and the conversations Simamba seeks to initiate aren’t necessarily limited to a single demographic. 

Unfurling across Tarragon’s sparse Extraspace stage, Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers follows Black teenager Slimm through his journey into the afterlife, a celestial purgatory framed by a video backdrop and a few brown theatre blocks of varying sizes. Also in the space is a sacred-looking book, a guide for Slimm as he embarks upon his new existence as a murdered Black man. Slimm’s true identity is vague, then mysterious, then all too clear: Simamba navigates the reveal gorgeously, using tissue-thin layers of character to build towards the whole, entire Slimm we see at the end of the play. 

Clothed simply in a blue-black hoodie and khakis, Simamba commands the space: she can dance, she can find laughs in unlikely places, and seriously, can she work a room. Simamba is magnetic, surprising, unrestrained — her talent shines through equally as both playwright and performer. The first half of Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers has only a few infrequent fumbles: moments of imprecise vocal mask, for instance, when Slimm embodies his mother, his friend, his girlfriend. It’s occasionally hard to tell who’s who. But where vocal mask falters, physical choreography prevails: Simamba executes an astonishing physical score magnetically and with total precision. It’s a sight to behold.

Director Donna-Michelle St. Bernard has shaped Simamba’s vision into a concise, efficient solo show — no choice in Simamba’s movement or text work feels redundant or under-supported. Simamba’s performance echoes St. Bernard’s own award-winning play, Sound of the Beast: there’s a clear influence there, and not at all an unwelcome one as two generations of lauded Black playwrights come together to create this thought-provoking work.

This production’s aesthetic composition is what leaves Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers at the precarious border between good and great. Diana Reyes’ sound design is fine, but a little thin in places — the reverberation of Slimm’s voice in the afterlife somehow feels both unnecessary and incomplete. Video design by Trevor Schwellnus is more consistently strong, particularly in the second half of the show, and yet still feels, at times, unfinished — the on-screen appearance of the text which Slimm reads from the sacred book is only sometimes effectively timed, indicating either opening-night jitters in the booth or an under-rehearsed element of the play. Music, too, sometimes feels hasty — songs like “(Crank That) Soulja Boy” make total dramaturgical sense, but seem unearned in their unedited lengths at the top of the show. Simamba has much to offer in her performance and in her writing: one finds themselves wishing we’d get to that a little quicker.

Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers is a must-see — the reveal alone is a glorious, heartbreaking moment of live theatre. Simamba has a hit on her hands, which bears repeating even in the years following the piece’s 2019 b current premiere: I look forward to seeing it again in new spaces and with a different design team over the next few years. 


Our Fathers, Sons, Lovers and Little Brothers runs at Tarragon live through April 10. It is available digitally starting March 22. Tickets are available here

Aisling Murphy
WRITTEN BY

Aisling Murphy

Aisling is Intermission's former senior editor and the theatre reporter for the Globe and Mail. She likes British playwright Sarah Kane, most songs by Taylor Swift, and her cats, Fig and June. She was a 2024 fellow at the National Critics Institute in Waterford, CT.

LEARN MORE

Comments

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


/
Members of the 'Ophis' company. iPhoto caption: Members of the 'Ophis' company. Photo courtesy of Transcen|Dance Project.

REVIEW: Ophis dunks viewers into a gothic experience of Medusa’s psychic landscape

Transcen|Dance Project’s Ophis is a woozy tragedy that courts both playfulness and eroticism, deliberately dissolving the boundaries of stage and audience with an immersive format that’s sometimes thrilling, sometimes terrifying, and sometimes — if you’re a people-pleaser like me — both simultaneously. 

By Lindsey King
L to R, top to bottom: 'The 39 Steps' (photo by Raph Nogal), 'Benevolence' (photo by Jae Yang), 'The Born-Again Crow' (photo by Jeremy Mimnagh), 'Dimanche' (photo by Thomas Müller), 'Last Landscape' (photo by Fran Chudnoff), 'The Merchant of Venice' (photo by Kyle Purcell), 'Slave Play' (photo by Dahlia Katz), 'Waiting for Godot' (photo by Elana Emer), 'The Welkin' (photo by Dahlia Katz). iPhoto caption: L to R, top to bottom: 'The 39 Steps' (photo by Raph Nogal), 'Benevolence' (photo by Jae Yang), 'The Born-Again Crow' (photo by Jeremy Mimnagh), 'Dimanche' (photo by Thomas Müller), 'Last Landscape' (photo by Fran Chudnoff), 'The Merchant of Venice' (photo by Kyle Purcell), 'Slave Play' (photo by Dahlia Katz), 'Waiting for Godot' (photo by Elana Emer), 'The Welkin' (photo by Dahlia Katz).

Twelve indelible moments of performance from 2025

With the lights fading on another year of fleeting thrills in dark rooms, we asked 12 Ontario performing arts writers to reflect on a moment that stayed with them. The results mainly stem from Toronto theatre productions, but there are a few surprises weaved in.

Connor Mitton and members of the company of 'Sex Dalmatian’s Hot Holiday Spectacular.' Photo by Jeremy Mimnagh. iPhoto caption: Connor Mitton and members of the company of 'Sex Dalmatian’s Hot Holiday Spectacular.' Photo by Jeremy Mimnagh.

REVIEW: Sex Dalmatian’s Hot Holiday Spectacular is a peppermint-coated acid trip

Rock Bottom Movement’s surrealist mandate is on full display in this 15-dancer fantasia, which begins with an invitation to let go: “The only thing you need to know is not to know anything at all,” pronounces the Mayor of Sex Dalmatian, the evening’s narrator and the mayor of the titular canine’s mind.

By Liam Donovan
Vanessa Sears as Juliet, Julia McLellan as Anne, Matt Raffy as May, and Sarah Nairne as Angelique in '& Juliet.' iPhoto caption: Vanessa Sears as Juliet, Julia McLellan as Anne, Matt Raffy as May, and Sarah Nairne as Angelique in '& Juliet.' Photo by Dahlia Katz.

REVIEW: Mirvish’s & Juliet sparkles on the surface despite narrative stumbles

The technical elements of & Juliet are rightfully excessive, fabulous, and gauche, solidifying the camp grounding upon which I came to appreciate the show as a whole.

By Divine Angubua
Members of the company of 'Ruby and the Reindeer.' iPhoto caption: Members of the company of 'Ruby and the Reindeer.' Photo by Ann Baggley.

REVIEW: Ruby and the Reindeer conjures a very Ontario Christmas at Stratford’s Here For Now Theatre

A festive addition to Mark Crawford’s catalogue of Canadian comedies, Ruby and the Reindeer isn’t shy about its local roots.

By Izzy Siebert
Ben Porter in 'The Woman in Black.' iPhoto caption: Ben Porter in 'The Woman in Black.' Photo courtesy of Mirvish.

REVIEW: Mirvish’s The Woman in Black conjures chills in the shadows

If you’re willing to suspend your disbelief and let your imagination run loose, The Woman in Black will reward you with a genuine jolt or two.

By Sania Hameed