Like many of my friends, I cannot remember a bleaker time in the political history of this great nation. But the other night at the Union Square Theatre, I had a true epiphany. The production was a one-man show by an artist of such dazzling gifts that I felt a burst of such spirit, such hope, that there were still things -- and people -- that would make it all alright.
The play was Daniel Beaty's Through the Night, and to call it a play is an understatement. It is an experience. The experience itself is orchestrated by the characters, a ten-year old boy trying to save his father's business, a health food store in a Harlem neighborhood, a pastor of a congregation of ten thousand who is himself addicted to Ho-Hos, (and in a booming voice) a closeted gay in the music business (you don't have to be in the service not to ask, not to tell), a sexy woman, a fearful father to be whose baby might have HIV, all of them portrayed, sung, danced and sent with great power into the theatrical ethers by Daniel Beaty, author, poet, spokesman for a multitude of those in a project, and, in my opinion, all-around genius.
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