TO KNOW HYMN IS TO LOVE HYMN
It’s not unusual to hear creatives, especially Black creatives, quote Toni Morrison when talking about what inspires them to write, paint or compose. “If there’s a book you really want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” That notion seems to have been in play when Lolita Chakrabarti wrote Hymn in 2021, a ravishing portrayal of Black male bonding, camaraderie and love now playing on Chicago Shakespeare Theater’s Courtyard Stage to swooning audiences.
Chiké Johnson and James Vincent Meredith
Chakrabarti craved to see something she’d never seen before on a theatrical stage, “a play of equals” with two Black men in leading roles performing opposite one another. She wanted to see the dynamics of those interactions, scenes she was accustomed to seeing enacted in everyday life in her native England, elevated for broader consumption and, perhaps, enlightenment.
At first we don’t quite understand the meaning behind the drunken rage of a man railing in the middle of a rain-slicked Chicago street. There’s no one else around, and his actions and words seem to be as cathartic as they are vengeful. You’re captivated by the force of his intensity and equally taken by the stark visual beauty scenic and projection designer Rasean Davonté Johnson presents of a muscular metropolis at night. The sumptuousness of Johnson’s projections would be a mainstay of the production and complemented with torrents of other outstanding creative supports.
When the scene changes to another man at the pulpit in a church eulogizing his father, we’re about to discover the likely cause of the first man’s, Benny’s, fury.
First we learn how upstanding, peerless and successful the deceased had been. Immigrating from the islands, building a family, launching a thriving business, Gus Clarence Jones was a pillar among men. His son praising him, Gil (James Vincent Meredith), the youngest and only male of his offspring, is florid in praise of his father and paints a picture of enviable irreproachability. Benny (Chiké Johnson) is in the pews with the other mourners and after the service approaches Gil, offers his condolences and then, respectfully and resolutely, informs Gil that Gus Jones was his father, too. We’ll eventually learn that the two men were born just six days apart.
The news justifiably shocks and rattles Gil. Then he assumes it’s a shakedown and becomes irate. But Benny stays calm, letting the certainty of his truth center him. When the DNA results come in, all doubt disappears.
What’s striking about Benny’s and Gil’s exchanges is the civility and respect the two accord one another. Both amazingly splendid actors, Johnson and Meredith cloak their characters in a quiet dignity that allows them to be deferential; even solicitous in the way they interact.
When Hymn premiered in London four years ago, the city was also the play’s setting. It was refashioned to place it in Chicago and make it more reflective of the African-American experience in this country. The change works beautifully by allowing Gil and Benny to review and fully share each other’s past growing up and coming of age Black in America. Directed by Ron OJ Parson, a knowing and gifted maestro of his craft, insured the change was both seamless and rich. References to places like Cindy’s Rooftop restaurant and Johnson’s stunningly gorgeous projected images of the city leave no doubt where you are.
Now with blood-ties confirmed, the goodwill and acceptance from both sides seems too idyllic to be real. But it is. Benny and his family have been completely welcomed and accepted by Gil’s. He and his sisters, who we never see, do everything to prove the sincerity of their gestures. When Benny complains and worries about the activism of his son, Gil offers wise considered advice. The advice a concerned brother would extend to close kin.
In their 50s and solidly middle-aged, some of the most entertaining segments are when the two are reminiscing in Benny’s house about their youth. Objects and paraphernalia from Benny’s younger days—Hammer pants, Prince vinyl albums—are dug up and loose the genie of mirthful reflection from its bottle. 80s and 90s soul superhits fill the theater, electrifying the stage and the audience, some of whom may find it difficult to stay in their seats. It all feels so joyful; and even more importantly, genuine. Willow James‘s sound design and composition are embellishments that provid a luxurious layer of authenticity throughout Hymn and help make it an even more memorable experience.
When Gil asks Benny to go in with him on a business venture, an act of trust as well as fidelity, it feels like a fitting next step in their relationship as newly found brothers who become close friends. It’s also a chance for Gil to step into his own. Never quite reaching his potential in his father’s eyes, even something of a disappointment to his father and himself, this was an opportunity for Gil to exercise his own creative business sense and emerge triumphant. The confidence and assurance he exudes make the undertaking seem like a sure thing. Few things are, of course, and the way the rest of the story unspools makes for very fine drama that’s so suspenseful you’d be excused for holding your breath. The way Chakrabarti closes the circle reminds you of the classics that end with an unspoken but timeless message of what constitutes moral rectitude and integrity. This one centers on the love shared between equals and enhances the contemporary theatrical canon tremendously with its arrival.
photos by Vashon Jordan Jr.
Hymn
Chicago Shakespeare Theater’s Courtyard Theater
Navy Pier, 800 East Grand Avenue
100 minutes, no intermission
ends on May 25, 2025
for tickets, call 312.595.5600 or visit Chicago Shakes
for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago
