5.0
05.01.20 Da feel-good sisters of soul
Toronto Sun
Jim Slotek
It's not always an easy fit, but the onetime Fringe fest darling Da Kink In My Hair has made the major-league jump to the cavernous Princess of Wales theatre with its soul intact and a slightly more grown-up point of view.
The play, about an Eglinton Ave based West Indian hair dresser who can access her customers' lives with a touch of their hair, was born of a series of often-dark monologues by comedian Trey Anthony. It opened Tuesday as the first Canadian play ever to be produced at the Mirvishes' mega-barn, complete with dance numbers, songs and production values.
And yet, the monologues - which range dark-to-light from suicide to child abuse to getting one's groove back in old age - remain the reason to see Da Kink. Thier authenticity of voice, from the Caribbean patois to the frustrations to the "go girl" moments, are the play's soul, and it runs on all cylinders only when the women's stories are being told unadorned.
The pumping-up has helped the play in lightening its heart, giving some of the most harrowing stories a tone of celebration with a song. In its first incarnation, 'Da Kink had the word "womyn" in the title, and you just know when pains are taken to expunge the letters "m-e-n" that you and the other dogs in the audience are going to get your noses smacked with a rolled up newspaper.
But what once had the chief flaw of coming off like a series of "bad men" stories is now balanced with a couple of big-hearted and lusty tales where men are either incidental or fondly-regarding bit players. Witness Satori Shakoor as a widow whose brassy song-and-dance paean to sex with the widower next door is a standout feel-good moment and nothing more.
There are great sensual moments in Da Kink's text, including full bodied Quancetia Hamilton as Shawnette (a character from the original play). Shawnette re-lives a life working as a cleaner to put her man through medical school - a reminiscence replete with images of sex as a food fantasy ("He'd put his hands on me, kneading chocolate dough") and dreams of the good life - only to see him end up with a woman better suited to his new position in life.
And these many productions later, the standout remains d'bi.young's aching and wonderfully kinetic portrayal of a Jamaican girl Stacey-Anne, who moves to Canada to rejoin her long-lost mother and sinister stepfather/benefactor/molester "Missah Brown."
If there's anything that's been added that falters, it's the production's attempt to add "diaspora moments," African influenced songs and dances that seem out of place in Da Kink's otherwise homey atmosphere. It's as if it behooves African Canadian artists and performers to offer some nod to that continent in a theatre that so recently played host to The Lion King.
Yes, Da Kink In My Hair is proff that small is better (its previous incarnation at Theatre Passe Muraille may have been apex). But it's true enough and good enough that it blows up pretty good too.