Profound Unrest in a Family Mirrors Tumult in Detroit ’67

The cast of Detroit ’67 (Photo by Gregory Reed)

By Aaron Krause

Early on in Dominique Morisseau’s compelling drama, Detroit ’67, a central character grows a bit frustrated while untangling decoration lights. Yet that small inconvenience pales beside the chaos government and law enforcement faced during and after the Detroit Uprising of 1967. The unrest, which began on July 23, 1967, after police raided an illegal after-hours bar on Detroit’s west side, serves as the backdrop for Morisseau’s play.

The production continues through March 22 at the Marshall L. Davis Sr. African Heritage Cultural Arts Center in Miami, achieving mixed results. Under Andre L. Gainey’s generally solid direction, the show stars talented performers Sheena O. Murray, Milton E. Lyles II, Tyquisha A. Braynen, Jean Hyppolite and Melissa A. Hubicsak. The production unfolds in the center’s intimate Wendell A. Narcisse Performing Arts Theater and runs about two hours and 45 minutes, including an intermission.

The play’s setting is the basement of adult African American siblings Chelle and Lank’s home in a predominantly Black neighborhood in 1967 Detroit. Parts of the play focus on the “calm before the storm,” with characters swaying to romantic music, speaking casually to each other, laughing and flirting.

The production excels at contrasting those laid-back scenes with the chaotic energy that sometimes erupts inside the basement. That space becomes a microcosm of the unrest unfolding outside. At times, chaos erupts. In one instance, a character suddenly rushes onstage like a tornado, out of breath, his clothes bloody, one garment torn.

Chelle and Lank run an unlicensed after-hours club in the basement of their childhood home. Set against the backdrop of Motown music and escalating racial tensions, the siblings’ lives are disrupted when Lank carries in an injured white woman. Recently inheriting their home, Chelle and Lank clash over how to use their money and how to navigate the dangers of a changing city.

Key figures include the cautious Chelle, her entrepreneurial brother Lank, his friend Sly, their friend Bunny, and the injured Caroline. The story explores dreams, economic struggles, racial injustice, police brutality, and the enduring power of family.

The basement in Detroit ’67 carries the intimate energy of a club. In fact, one could even compare it to the Kit Kat Klub in Cabaret. However, unlike that establishment’s patrons, who are willing to ignore the gathering storm outside in the final years of the Weimar Republic, the characters in Detroit ’67 don’t choose to escape the reality outside.

Detroit ’67 is part of Morisseau’s “Detroit Project,” a critically acclaimed trilogy of plays—Detroit ’67, Paradise Blue, and Skeleton Crew—that examines the sociopolitical history, racial tensions and economic shifts of Detroit from 1949 to 2008. The “Detroit Project,” inspired by August Wilson’s “Century Cycle,” focuses on Detroit’s Black working-class community and their resilience.

Morisseau, an award-winning playwright, crafts deeply human, socially conscious, and emotionally resonant dramas. Her dialogue is often lyrical while, at the same time, reflecting how people speak. She creates complex, fully developed characters struggling for justice, love, and humanity while seeking the American Dream.

Chelle discovering a visibly injured white woman in her home in a Black neighborhood during the turbulent 1960s produces a shock akin to the alarm Mother experiences in the explosive 1998 musical Ragtime when she discovers a live Black baby buried in her garden in early 20th-century New York.

In both cases, an unwelcome intrusion disrupts the tranquility of a domestic space and immediately raises the stakes. But in the cultural center’s production of Detroit ’67, Murray’s reaction to discovering the injured Caroline in her home isn’t quite big enough. While Murray’s Chelle expresses disbelief, given the stakes, one might expect her to scream or stand in an extended, stunned silence.

Another shortcoming is that, even in this intimate playing space, the actors sometimes speak so softly that we cannot make out what their characters are saying. Understandably, the performers aim for naturalism, and quiet, restrained speech and expressions can enhance realism. Still, actors must balance subtlety with the need to ensure audiences hear and understand every word, so the action remains clear.

Aside from the volume issue, the performances are generally strong. In this intimate thrust space, with audiences seated on three sides of the stage, we feel as if we’re in the same room with these characters, listening to real people react in real time to unfolding events. Observe, for instance, Murray’s Chelle suddenly fainting after learning of a tragic death.

Chelle is the more cautious, practical sibling, while Lank is an optimistic, entrepreneurial dreamer. Murray and Lyles deliver contrasting performances that clearly differentiate the siblings. Lyles’ Lank is looser, speaking in upbeat tones and moving with an energy that conveys his enthusiasm. He moves more cautiously while sizing up Caroline, yet his gestures suggest openness and curiosity about people different from him. A quiet, slow attraction develops between Lank and Caroline as they take each other in.

Murray’s Chelle is more rigid in posture compared to Lyles’ Lank, reinforcing her cautious approach. Yet she clearly enjoys a good time; early in the play, she dances spiritedly, lost in the moment. While generally pleasant, Murray’s Chelle can be adamant, and her sometimes sharp voice and gestures—such as folding her arms—reinforce her strong, unbending stance.

Still, it’s obvious that the siblings love each other, as when Chelle gently touches Lank’s face and kisses his forehead. “You are my baby brother,” she tells him affectionately. By contrast, her reactions to Caroline are colder, including at least one moment when she faces away from the newcomer.

Hubicsak’s Caroline, bruised, appears believably disoriented when Lank carries her into the home. She moves slowly at first but gradually grows more confident and thankful toward the siblings for taking her in, even as Chelle reluctantly agrees to shelter her. Hubicsak also captures Caroline’s street-smart awareness; it’s clear from her speech and movements that she has faced challenges and is hardly naïve. Vulnerable without pitying herself, Hubicsak’s Caroline earns our respect and sympathy, particularly when she expresses interest in helping the siblings, agreeing to work for them to repay their kindness.

Hyppolite also shines, delivering a vivacious performance as Sly. Appearing convincingly loose, hip, and slick, with a jazzy, relaxed swagger, Hyppolite’s consistently charismatic and colorful Sly endears us to the character. Because we’ve grown to like and care about him, news of his death hits particularly hard, leaving us stunned. Sly is killed during the violent riots while trying to protect or salvage the bar he and Lank hoped to establish.

It’s a devastating development that underscores the personal and dangerous toll of racial injustice and social upheaval at the time. Sadly, the violence and divisions of the 1960s bear an unsettling resemblance to the divisiveness and senseless destruction and loss of life we continue to witness today. Detroit ’67, among other things, highlights police brutality—an issue that remains painfully familiar in the wake of deaths such as those of George Floyd and Trayvon Martin.

Braynen also delivers a winning performance as the aptly named Bunny, whose upbeat demeanor is refreshing. With big curly hair, short shorts, and lipstick, Braynen’s Bunny looks and sounds like the life of any party. Braynen’s acting choices, including placing her feet on a table and dancing seductively, suit the character well. Like the others, Braynen’s Bunny credibly turns more serious when the action darkens.

The actors succeed individually and as an ensemble, listening to one another and reacting with spontaneity. They perform on Michael Miles’ spacious and orderly set design of Chelle and Lank’s home. With details such as colored lights, Miles creates a festive atmosphere, befitting a club. But with audience members seated on three sides of the stage, it also looks as though the characters are boxed in – they can’t escape their reality. Other additions, such as depictions of a black fist, suggest the resilience of Black people. While the contents of the set generally make sense, other inclusions are not as obvious. For example, a drawn or painted Monopoly board appears on the floor. We never learn why.

Cynthia Garbutt’s costumes, particularly Sly’s dressy red jacket, befit the characters’ personalities, while Dudley Pinder’s lighting evokes moods.

As with works such as Lorraine Hansberry’s landmark 1959 play, A Raisin in the Sun, Detroit ’67 centers on a Black family’s pursuit of the American Dream. Just as the Younger family seeks to cash in a life insurance check, the siblings in Morisseau’s play each want to use inheritance money for different purposes. While Chelle wants to use her share of the money to provide financial security and stability for her family, Lank wants to purchase a legitimate, local, white-owned bar in partnership with Sly.

Interestingly, Lank’s real name is Langston. Poet and activist Langston Hughes (1901–1967) wrote about dreams deferred. In fact, the title of Hansberry’s play took inspiration from a poem in which Hughes wrote about those dreams. Hughes also wrote about what happens when dreams die. In Detroit ’67, Lank’s dream dies with Sly.

While you could classify Detroit ’67 as a tragedy, the play ends on a hopeful note. Just before the curtain comes down, Chelle, her eyes closed, sings and moves to Motown music playing on her record player. It’s a memorable image of an individual holding fast to hope despite the turbulence overtaking her city.

The Marshall L. Davis Sr. African Heritage Cultural Arts Center’s Detroit ’67 runs through March 22. Showtimes are 7:30 p.m. March 13 and 14, 3:30 p.m. March 15, 7:30 p.m. March 20 and 21, as well as 3:30 p.m. March 22. The cultural center is located at 6161 N.W. 22nd Ave. in Miami. The box office number is (305) 638-6771. For more information, visit https://www.ahcamiami.org.