On February 26, 2012, Trayvon Martin was killed by neighborhood watchman George Zimmerman. After a long series of trials and protests, Zimmerman was found not guilty of all charges on July 13, 2013. The Black Lives Matter movement was born with this monumental and controversial decision. What started as a hashtag has become a nationwide organization with over 40 chapters. The official BLM website describes the movement as: “an ideological and political intervention in a world where Black lives are systematically and intentionally targeted for demise. It affirms Black folks’ humanity, our contributions to this society, and our resilience in the face of deadly oppression.” The BLM movement is the community’s way of shining a light on the simple fact that seems to have been ignored by society for centuries: black people are people, and our lives have value beyond entertainment.
This summer, I was taxed with the responsibility to keep a running list of the accounts of unarmed black citizens being gunned down by police and pedestrians like Trayvon for the Wilma Theater’s production of James Ijames’ Kill Move Paradise. KMP tells the story of four
Black men who meet in an undefinable realm between life and the afterlife. The four struggle with mortality and other issues plaguing Black America today. “The play wrestles with the hope of life, the inevitability of death, the unfairness of somebody having more control of your life than yourself.” (Anthony Briggs) Anthony Briggs stars in Kill Move Paradise
as Griff. His character is the second to arrive and has a rough time recognizing his mortality and place in the story. The crises uncovered in KMP remind me of the intensity with which I respond to my circumstances. As a young black person, I feel like I’m hopeless. Anything I do lacks permanence because the percentages say that I’m going to die tragically young because of a misunderstanding with law enforcement. How am I supposed to begin making big life decisions like colleges and jobs and love when I can assume that, at any point, my soul can be ripped from this earthly plane by the barrel of a pistol? On top of all of this existential dread, the Lord has gifted or burdened me with the need to perform and create, so I have to create “entertainment” for a society that would rather kill me than treat me like an equal.
Sometimes, I want to escape. I want to leave all my problems behind. Maybe my art can be my sanctuary…Is it possible to truly escape? What should I do? As an artist, is it my job to reflect the problems that surround me, or am I supposed to help create an environment where the audience and hopefully I can forget about the evils of man? Is there a conflict between what art should do, what we want it to do, and what it does regarding this question? Lost and in the middle of a breakdown, I met with Barrymore Award nominee Anthony Martine Briggs, a Wilma Theatre’s Hot House company resident and University of the Arts alumnus. Thankfully, Anthony could answer some of my questions from his perspective. Anthony described his artistry as having a mission: “to give voice to those who people are trying to silence. To use my platform to offer voice and perspective that the mainstream doesn’t give.” Art can have a purpose. It can be an important tool in making the world a better place, and I decided that, like Anthony, I wanted my art to have a mission. I wondered if it was possible to create art without such a mission in mind…if art could be entirely removed from the world in which it is created…if art could be purely for entertainment. I believe that art should be telling of the times it was created, but I didn’t know if it was possible or even likely that art could be created that was separated from the societal context. It seemed impossible, and Anthony corroborated my theory: “You can never say that my art is separate from the politics going on. You can’t say that my art doesn’t have context in the society in which I’m creating it. That’s impossible. That’s a lie. Artists are responsible for being thoughtful about that and having that in mind.” It was very interesting to consider that all art, both original and revival, has to be telling of the environment in which it was created whether a conscious choice by the creator or not. Whatever happens in the world around us will always find a way to pervade into what we create. Therefore, all art, whether we know it or not, is mission-oriented because though a piece may not have a specific point of view, it can’t be truly apathetic: the creator’s opinions about any number of current events will seep into the work inevitably. Having such a talented and recognized actor agree with me on issues that deeply resonate with me was so fulfilling. After these initial agreements, I was excited to dig deeper with him.
Anthony gave more of an inside perspective of the deeper themes of Kill Move Paradise, which only solidified that there isn’t a play out there like this one. Briggs described a new feeling unique to his experience in KMP: “ancestually exhausted.” KMP is a conversation between us and
our ancestors because the struggle for equality and life has been a fight in Black America for centuries. The actors embody the frustration and desperation of generations of men and women who have fought and died before them. Briggs described a specific moment in the play “where a list of names is read: the names of our fallen brothers and sisters at the hands of police brutality.” The men are aware of the list when they enter. They know that it keeps getting longer, and it seems unending. At one point, they can’t deal with the knowledge of their fates, so they read the list aloud in a cathartic moment of remembrance and hopelessness. Briggs describes that moment as a communion with spirits of sorts. To fully live in the moment, he and the other actors onstage have to open a dialogue with the souls of every person on that list, and if that isn’t enough, Briggs also revealed that when he opens that channel, he also speaks with his ancestors who have passed before him. This weight of the souls who have been wronged and those who have died for the actors to succeed provides a kind of exhaustion never before seen in any other body of work. This intense communication with spirits and the other bodies onstage transfers to the audience. I was left with chills when watching the men live, breathe, and interact onstage. KMP is intrinsically human in that it resonates with struggles that have been around for years and will, unfortunately, probably persist after we leave this plane.
The fact that Kill Move Paradise features solely black men makes it unique. It shows them being vulnerable and affectionate, which makes it truly unique. However, this is not enough to craft a masterpiece. For Kill Move Paradise to truly be important, it must accurately portray these men
and the deeper themes. Thankfully, it does. KMP does an awe-inspiring job of capturing the hopelessness felt in Black America and the understanding of one’s mortality that finds itself in every black person in the country. The play deals with the hopelessness we can feel in America: the hopelessness that things will ever improve. Ijames’ characters freak out when they realize what happened to them, and they struggle in disbelief when they understand that even children can share the same fate. They curse the audience for their part in creating this America, and they lament the fact that our country is so screwed up and might never get better. I know that I relate to this hopelessness. It can almost be crushing. Of course, I had to look past my personal experience, so I turned to Anthony. We’re pretty different, so if he could corroborate my experience, it would be safer to assume that my issues are more global than personal. Anthony describes the hopelessness that he feels in America as a black person tied to the institutional nature of racism and how it relates to the characters of the play. “These men…these individuals were going through what they’ve gone through to end up where they are still voracious for life. It’s hard because losing hope happens every day. Black in America, it’s like…it doesn’t explicitly mean hopeless, but the traps are all there. The institutions society has set up around us are built to take hope from us.” The institutional aspect of racism is the main contributor to this hopelessness, in my opinion. It creates the illusion that oppression is so ingrained in our country’s genetic makeup that we’ll never experience a time when people aren’t oppressed. However, Anthony also brings up an interesting point. He says that the men are still “voracious for life.” Even with certain oblivion, the men still want to fight for their right to live. I can relate to that. It’s really easy to let that despair crush you and force you to stay in bed all day, but I refuse to let it stop me from living. I try to focus on spreading joy and happiness with my actions and how I interact with those around me. I’m hungry for life, and I won’t let the fact that there are systems in place plotting to take it from me stop me from going out there and living it.
The hopelessness James Ijames reveals in his play is not fabricated or exaggerated for dramatic purposes. It is the hopelessness that every black person feels as they walk through the Earth, knowing that the societal rules that control every aspect of life were set in motion to keep us oppressed. More importantly, he reveals that drive and that fight that’s present in all of Black America. The drive led to the Harlem Renaissance and created Rock and roll. It’s a very specific dichotomy that is hard to capture, but there’s evidence that Kill Move Paradise mirrors it almost exactly. Briggs describes that the baggage he brings from home is the same as the baggage he has to put on for his character, and it’s the same baggage he will put back on after he leaves the world of KMP. In that world, Ijames also unpacks the black understanding of mortality. Throughout the play, the men face their mortality as they grow and accept what happened to them. It’s a long and painful process, but they each grow through it like a giant weight is lifted off their shoulders. I was forced to discover my mortality at a very young age when my parents explained that the people that have sworn to protect me could very easily be the cause of my death. I was saddened and relieved to know that Anthony echoed my experience: “Based on the losses I’ve sustained in my life, I’m aware of that. I’m very in touch with my mortality, so there’s a parallel there with these people having to explore their humanity and mortality.” That understanding of one’s mortality from such an early age is a unique concept that only a playwright who truly understands the Black struggle™ can accomplish.
I recognize how much I love Kill Move Paradise because of its uniqueness, and I can write a whole other essay about how James is experimenting with style and structure in such a unique way, but as Briggs pointed out, “Black Lives Matter…is more than just wearing a T-Shirt. It’s
working for the betterment of marginalized people through action.” If art, as mentioned before, is supposed to be mission-oriented, then it’s impossible to entirely separate the mission of Kill Move Paradise from the mission of the Black Lives Matter movement. I forced myself to evaluate if Kill Move Paradise as a theatre piece does anything tangible for the movement. I tossed around whether the duty of the play mirrors Briggs’ view of the actor's duty, and I think Anthony answered my question eloquently. “Kill Move Paradise don’t get to do shit. It’s play. Doing things…that’s the human being’s job.” At first, I laughed at how simple and obvious the answer was: It’s a play….the human being’s job, but upon further inspection, I realized that Anthony’s answer was entirely correct. We can’t ask of plays what plays cannot do. If we judge art by that criteria, no art is substantial. It’s up to people to incite change. Then, what do we do? Is it all useless? Art may not be able to directly get a law overturned free the countless number of innocent imprisoned people or bring our fallen brothers and sisters back from the dead. Still, it does something very important: it starts a dialogue and gives voice to the victims.
The marginalized are repeatedly silenced and plays like KMP humanize them and show their perspective on the awful things happening to them, and through the production of the play, these perspectives are spread to the masses. With the spread of the perspective, knowledge is also spread, and the more that the play tours and is produced, the more awareness we can raise of the issues and how it affect the people involved, hopefully inspiring more and more people to take action. More importantly, the production of plays like KMP greatly affects the marginalized. There’s power in accurately presenting a minority onstage because they’re used to being told that their stories don’t matter. Seeing that their story is being recognized and heard does something truly wonderful. “As someone afflicted, I’m comforted by plays like this because I feel like I’m not alone” -Anthony Briggs. Showing the characters can be vulnerable and open with each other allows the audience to feel more vulnerable and open, and in those moments of openness, magic happens. Anthony described moments of joy in his work on the play, which come into play when the men are conversing. The energy radiates between them sparks the possibility of change, and with that comes hope: our most powerful ally. Therefore, art, especially Kill Move Paradise, does wonders in starting dialogues and comforting the afflicted, which are incredibly important for the movement and improving life for all.
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