Glitter in the Glass
Review of R. Eric Thomas's revised play at Theatre Exile
Glitter in the Glass
by R. Eric Thomas
directed by Ontaria Kim Wilson
at Theatre Exile, May 29 to June 22
Glitter in the Glass, which premiered in 2023 under the title Nightbird, is about a mid-career black visual artist who has returned home to Baltimore. Chelle, played by Jennifer Nikki Kidwell, has bought her childhood house which overlooks the now empty base of a monument to Robert E. Lee which she has been commissioned to replace. It’s a rich premise. The play’s discourse on art, however, is too disconnected from real-world artspeak for the play’s satire or commentary to bite. The way the show handles art just isn’t believable, and the play isn’t seriously committed to its central conceit, at least not in a realistic way: Chelle isn’t anywhere close to delivering an artwork, but the non-profit foundation that has hired her expects results in six days—coincidentally, on Juneteenth. It’s as if she’s starting her visual research from scratch and firing off first-draft ideas as she converts her house into an artist’s studio (mostly over the act-break, which is too bad, because that would be fun to watch). At one point, she has assembled an off-stage “Obama who is also not Obama” out of garbage, but when is she supposed to have actually done this? Art takes time to fabricate. She then replaces it with projections on a sheet, as if idea and execution are simultaneous.
The labor involved would be more of a six week effort than six days, and yet even with only six days, the stakes don’t feel high. In fact, Chelle’s brother, Willard (Danny Wilfred), who is some sort of influencer/community activist rebranding himself as Cousin (despite having no cousins, “appropriating cousin culture,” says Chelle), says that there’s no way the art foundation would take back Chelle’s fee—actively lowering the stakes, which she does not bother to rebut with, say, the damage to her reputation that such a professional failure would surely cause. Chelle has hired Thalia (Kishia Nixon), an interior designer to help get the house ready on Willard’s suggestion, though it’s unclear for what they’re preparing it—if it's to be a permanent or temporary home, or if it’s being flipped, or why any self-respecting artist would hire (or can afford) an interior decorate to fill their home with art she doesn’t like (it’s “very black,” says Chelle, setting up tensions over identity that run through the play).
Yet Chelle never seems stressed or freaked out, despite a chain-vaping habit in the first act, standing her ground like a statue even when Thalia confronts her. She’s rarely more than bemused, a choice that leaves the show feeling like a casual affair with only the supporting players moved by their circumstances. This is a show of quips, which never really rises above the level of a sitcom—at times maybe a “very special episode” of a sitcom dealing with heavier subject matter, complete with 90’s-esque refrains that cover scene changes. The characters tell the audience what they’ve decided and learned in direct-address, talking at the audience, instead of making discoveries in scenes. And as such, these insights don’t feel earned.
Kidwell, Nixon, and Wilfred are all good here, but I wonder what they could do if they were ever put into interesting spatial relationships with one another. Ontario Kim Wilson’s staging pays little attention to visual language, especially disappointing in a play about art, and is often flat, supported as it is by a flat, symmetrical set (Chris Haig) of interior walls set parallel to the proscenium.
Glitter in the Glass is not the only play in the past year’s season about a mid-career black visual artist coming home: compare with The Comeuppance at The Wilma. The Comeuppance is a very different play, but shares many of its themes, offering points of direct comparison on the questions of coming home after having grown apart from your community—and about how artists talk and relate to non-artists. Glitter is perhaps a better play than this staging shows, though it’s a challenge for any actor or director to make speeches explaining parts of Star Trek interesting, even if they’re there to explain the title. Despite having a serious subject matter, the details of the premise are ridiculous, and it needs an injection of stakes and energy to match.
Speaking of The Wilma, though Pig Iron has a show up and there’s good word of mouth about the adaptation of Giovanni's Room at Quintessence (extended through July 6), A Summer Day is the Philadelphia season-closer not to be missed (through June 29).