On a dirt court in Plainnole, Arkansas, the players of the Lady Train, the name given to their high school girls’ basketball team, practice. They run drills, working on their defensive slides and footwork – each sporting a noticeable baby bump.
Don’t worry, they’re fake, donned in support of a pregnant teammate, in Candrice Jones’s Flex, now making its regional premiere at The Ensemble Theatre.
At the top of the key is Starra Jones, a second-generation point guard who sees the game not only as the “best way to get out of the dirt and the dust,” but the way to make “every dream” she and her late mother “ever had come true.” Especially since it’s 1997, and the Women’s National Basketball Association is in its inaugural season, offering ballers like Starra a new hope, a new opportunity, a new pathway forward.
Fortunately, Starra is talented and confident, both claiming she’s got “1,000 basketball gods in her wrists” and declaring herself the “the Starra of the show.” But unfortunately for Starra, her first option-status on the team has recently been challenged by the arrival of California transplant Sidney, an equally good – and possibly better – player who is the reason scouts are now showing up in the stands for the Lady Train.
For Starra, “the only way out is through a D1 school,” and she’s certain that, even if the scouts are there because of Sidney, she can prove herself. But with only ten days until state, and with “their future riding on whether they can take this train to state,” they’ve lost their most physical player, April, to an unplanned pregnancy – the reason the girls nicked those fake bellies from home ec.
“Every year we lose another teammate to a baby,” complains Starra. It’s well known that their coach, Francine Pace, doesn’t allow pregnant girls to play.
April’s pregnancy is just one of the social issues Jones tackles in her script, all of which any of the five young African American women living in rural Arkansas could easily face. Sexuality, abuse, abortion – Jones’s script is loaded with topical issues, and maybe her most impressive skill is weaving these stories (and insight) together without weighing the play down or making it seem like some kind of after school special.
Jones’s script is gripping, with the early question of “What did Starra do?” taking “Who shot J.R.?” levels of intrigue. Her writing consistently hits the right notes of dramatic and funny, and it’s clear that she’s taken such care in establishing and developing each character, with a knack for teen talk, which makes spending time with them a joy. Their camaraderie is infectious. Frankly, this is the kind of thing that would look great in the form of a Netflix series. And, like any good coming-of-age sports drama, Jones never lets us lose sight of the big game looming high on the horizon.
Director Rachel Hemphill Dickson approaches the production with a tender, but matter-of-fact hand, coaching this production with both discipline and warmth. The staging is top-notch, the space, anchored by Brandi Alexander’s attention-grabbing half-court set, ideally utilized to allow Jones’ script to shine – not to mention the actors.
Jazmyn Bolden plays Starra with laser-focused, wild-eyed intensity, visibly shouldering the weight of her dreams and the need to make them come true not only for herself, but for her mother. At one point, Starra’s play is described by her teammates as “so, so hard” – one saying it as a positive, the other not – and in Bolden’s hands, you can easily see both. Sidney is an antagonist to Starra, though only in Starra’s one-track, jealous mind. As played by Kiya Green, Sidney is as self-assured as Starra, though seemingly more self-possessed, with a one-woman recounting of an, let’s say, adult story that is quite memorable.
As Starra’s cousin Cherise, a newly licensed youth minister who “tries to make ballin’ holy because she loves it” so much, Krystal Uchem is perfectly sweet and naively silly, qualities that are tempered by her uphill battle to try to do right, first regarding Starra and then regarding her relationship with Sydney Deone Cooper’s Donna. Cooper nails Donna’s role as part voice of reason, part class clown. She’s a bit of glue that holds the group together.
An’Tick Von Morpxing is Coach Francine Pace, who navigates the line between supportive and strict with her players. She wants the best for them, though she carries her own baggage too, and it’s best seen toward the end of the show in a couple of brief shows of support with Sierra Wilturner’s April. Wilturner is convincing in her efforts to get back on the court, as convincing as she is in both her certainty and uncertainty.
The ’90s mostly come alive through the musical choices, though Melissa Greggs’s costumes provide some welcome hints, too. Ricjuane Jenkins, responsible for the sound and projections/AI, certainly gave an assist to the production by piping in that crowd noise, which heightened the energy at moments. And maybe the most wildly effective part of the show was the lighting, by Kris Phelps, and sound coming together on an unexpected occurrence during a road trip.
Lastly, pro tip: Stay on your toes. It’s live theater and the performers are dribbling, shooting – you know, playing basketball to some extent on stage. If you’re near the front, you might just want to be ready to return an errant pass. Just saying.
Performances will continue at 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Saturdays and 3 p.m. Sundays through April 13 at The Ensemble Theatre, 3535 Main. For more information, call 713-520-0055 or visit ensemblehouston.com. $35-$50.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2025.
