This play begins with red powder (dust, blood?) being sprinkled on the floor. Meanwhile Elegba (Anthony Walsh) draws a chalk circle to mark out what will be the "stage" - a neat way of dealing with the BTS space, where there is no intrinsic separation between audience and players. And these gestures loaded with symbolism are a good indicator of what is to come.
The Brothers Size is more like remembering a dream than telling a story. It is made up of short, intense scenes which are raw representations of human events: accusation, impotent anger, sacrifice, filial loyalty. This is not a play of complex plot, and there are only three characters.
We are in the Deep South. Oshusi (Tunji Kasim) has recently got out of prison - we never find out what for, but we get the feeling that being black was cause enough round these parts. He is now living with his elder brother, Ogun (Daniel Francis), who is the stable, guiding force. Hanging around the fringes is Elegba, an honest and affection friend who Oshusi met in prison. But he is also a trouble-maker, less concerned than the others when it comes to the law.
The three characters are clearly defined in contrast to one another; and indeed they are more like caricatures, or archetypes, than realistically portrayed people. The actors enforce these distinctions by each using very different styles of movement and gesture. Ogun radiates strength and purpose; Oshun is more fluid, and always ready to break into song or dance; Elegba is cautious and conciliatory. The play is tightly choreographed and very rhythmic from start to end; author Tarell Alvin McCraney has said that he considers it to be a work of "jazz".
It is a powerful, passionate play, and the actors play it with gusto. At times I felt that everything was being made a little too overt, with the players so practiced and explicitly gestural that I wasn't sure if they were really "feeling it". But despite these moments of doubt, the overall performances are a convincing combination of sweat, saliva and conviction.
Perhaps this complicated relationship between emotion and movement is the point of the play. It is clearly an exploration of freedom and imprisonment - and the body is, after all, the ultimate scene of this conflict.
The Brothers Size is more like remembering a dream than telling a story. It is made up of short, intense scenes which are raw representations of human events: accusation, impotent anger, sacrifice, filial loyalty. This is not a play of complex plot, and there are only three characters.
We are in the Deep South. Oshusi (Tunji Kasim) has recently got out of prison - we never find out what for, but we get the feeling that being black was cause enough round these parts. He is now living with his elder brother, Ogun (Daniel Francis), who is the stable, guiding force. Hanging around the fringes is Elegba, an honest and affection friend who Oshusi met in prison. But he is also a trouble-maker, less concerned than the others when it comes to the law.
The three characters are clearly defined in contrast to one another; and indeed they are more like caricatures, or archetypes, than realistically portrayed people. The actors enforce these distinctions by each using very different styles of movement and gesture. Ogun radiates strength and purpose; Oshun is more fluid, and always ready to break into song or dance; Elegba is cautious and conciliatory. The play is tightly choreographed and very rhythmic from start to end; author Tarell Alvin McCraney has said that he considers it to be a work of "jazz".
It is a powerful, passionate play, and the actors play it with gusto. At times I felt that everything was being made a little too overt, with the players so practiced and explicitly gestural that I wasn't sure if they were really "feeling it". But despite these moments of doubt, the overall performances are a convincing combination of sweat, saliva and conviction.
Perhaps this complicated relationship between emotion and movement is the point of the play. It is clearly an exploration of freedom and imprisonment - and the body is, after all, the ultimate scene of this conflict.