Some people have been elevated to the position of local royalty, legends that locals brag about when they get a chance. Lauren Anderson is one of those legends, the first Black ballerina in Houston Ballet history and one of the few in the country.
Anderson is the overcomer of odds and breaker of barriers, who trail-blazed a path to become an inspiration to anyone who attempts the improbable, the seemingly impossible, and specifically an inspiration for Black girls and women. Anderson’s story is now being told over at Stages in Plumshuga: The Rise of Lauren Anderson, written by Deborah D.E.E.P. Mouton.
“So you want to know about me?” asks an unassuming DeQuina Moore as Anderson, who begins recounting her story, starting in the 1970s. Then, it was a five-year-old Anderson at her first ballet class – the lone Black student, clad in a black dress surrounded by pink lycra-ed classmates – already attempting to make her body “be the right kind of ballerina.” Though admittedly “bewitched” by ballet, it wasn’t until seeing the Dance Theatre of Harlem’s Firebird (the company’s iconic 1982 John Taras-choreographed take on Stravinsky, transplanted from Russia to a Caribbean jungle) that Anderson could see her future in the dance form.
If you read the first paragraph, you know where this journey takes Anderson: All the way to principal at the Houston Ballet, the first Black woman to be promoted to principal at the company and one of the very first Black women to be promoted to principal at any major American company. But in between is life, Anderson’s life, and it’s not nearly as sweet as the Sugar Plum Fairy role she danced.
In her own words, as relayed to Mouton, we learn about Anderson’s broken home and early exposure to alcohol (“the first fracture”). We hear of the “impossible expectations” her father instilled in her, and of the “second fracture,” the time when then-artistic director of the Houston Ballet, Ben Stevenson, suggested to Anderson’s parents that maybe she was better suited to musical theater.
Ballet becomes a double-edged sword in Anderson’s world, successes seeming to open, or deepen, wounds. On playing her first lead role in a production of Alice in Wonderland, Anderson sees herself as “too giant a body to enter, too black a body to blend.” Even as successes continue to pile up, doubt never ceases; in fact, as she says, “all of it came to a head eight hours a day in front of a mirror.” Anderson found respite in alcohol and drugs, and it’s this battle – between being “numb and perfect” or “broken and flawed” – that’s at the center of Plumshuga’s story.
Plumshuga is not a one-woman show. It would be a disservice to every other great performer who steps on stage to even imply that it is. But Moore carries this production. It’s her command, her ability to expertly execute the poetic musicality of Mouton’s well-crafted words – while also infusing them with vulnerability, humor, doubt, cheekiness – that make Moore the perfect beacon for the “Plumshuga lighthouse.”
Supporting Moore as Anderson are Kalen Wright, as Young Lauren, and Kellen Hornbuckle, as Dancer Lauren. Wright is wide-eyed exuberance, a perfect match for Moore’s own energy. Hornbuckle, a demi soloist at Houston Ballet, is subdued by comparison, a ballerina trying to maintain perfection within an increasingly broken music box. We only see glimpses of the spirit Moore brings to the role – like during the push and pull with Eric Best’s Carlos, and their eventual tangy, tango-like pas de deux – but man, can she dance. From the distressed Sleeping Beauty pas de deux, which morphs into something else entirely, to a picture of control and beautiful lines dancing Cleopatra, Hornbuckle holds her own when she’s on her toes.
Ensemble member Rafael Tillery played the role of Love, transforming into its many forms effortlessly. One of the most powerful moments in the whole production sees Moore cowering on a chaise lounge, clutching a bouquet of flowers and pillow to her chest. Tillery, as one iteration of Love (an abusive Love) rips those flowers from her hand. It’s a simple, non-explicit reference to the abuse she describes that is incredibly effective.
In addition to her trysts with Love, Anderson literally dances with Addiction, a character embodied by Kharma Grimes. She is temptation in a burgundy dress, and absolutely magnetic. Special mention also goes to Lauren Burke, who steals focus – in a good way – throughout the production, whether she’s foot racing and sneaking drinks with Anderson during her youth, or a seductive part of Addiction’s crew later.
Plumshuga is ambitious. Mouton uses just about every tool at her disposal to convey Anderson’s story, so the production touches on many forms – including theatrical drama, dance, spoken word, and musical theater – and it’s left to co-directors Mouton and Eboni Bell Darcy to navigate these shifts. And they do. Quite possibly most impressive is the way they have worked movement and choreography, by Houston Ballet’s Stanton Welch (Ballet Choreographer) and Urban Souls’ Harrison Guy (Contemporary Choreographer), into the production.
Houston Ballet Principal Jessica Collado plays the Sugar Plum Fairy, and Collado’s light footwork in The Nutcracker’s famous solo is nicely juxtaposed with Rafaela Henrique’s turn as Firebird. Love’s solo, as well as his fight with Addiction for Lauren, are particularly evocative, as is Mya Bryant’s dance as Lauren’s Mother, who expresses her pain through claps and powerful gestures.
The production is also helped immensely by composer Jasmine Barnes’ memorable score, a key part of which references the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” Collado’s Sugar Plum Fairy is a character that looms large over the production, while Tchaikovsky’s music is a specter woven throughout the production. The familiar twinkling of the celesta appears again and again, a recurring musical motif that speeds up, and becomes more rhythmic to match the mood and action. (The program notes that Anderson’s son, Lawrence, plays drums on every musical selection in the production, so it’s added meaning that his heartbeat is referred to as a ”drum beat,” and a “bass line” in the production.)
The design team – comprised of Jodi Bobrovsky (Scenic & Properties Designer), Bryan Ealey (Lighting Designer), Kenisha Kelly (Costume Designer), Firat Kazbek Ozsoy (Sound Designer), and Sarah Flores (Video Designer) – took a simple approach, which allows the cast to shine all the brighter. One particularly clever turn is the use of white cloth to represent Anderson’s baby.
This should go without saying, but Houston’s former poet laureate has a way with words. The strength of this production is the way Mouton has crafted each line of dialogue, and the ways different art forms have been drawn together to tell Anderson’s story. Plumshuga is told in a linear fashion, cradle-to-now within a present/past framework. It’s possible that this framework could be better utilized to tell Anderson’s story, as right now Plumshuga feels long. And there are moments, like a brief mention of an ultimatum (one year, her father says, to make it as a ballerina) that doesn’t really add any dramatic tension and goes nowhere. The second act also has a couple of almost endings, and then there are the trees.
Walking into the Sterling Stage at The Gordy, you’ll immediately notice that the stage is flanked and framed by two giant trees. Tall and formidable, they give off the air of a threat. Mouton well establishes a motif throughout the show with these trees and Anderson, with dialogue that finds Anderson comparing herself to “a tree in an unforgiving forest” or her own thirst to that of those oak trees. But the trees move and talk. A disembodied voice that repeats “you don’t belong here” and “you don’t fit in here,” but might as well be saying “we don’t trust you (the audience) to understand.” Similarly, also in the vein of not exactly trusting the audience, is the section after Lauren’s pulled over and taken before a judge. It’s nightmarish in tones and hues, and features a powerful solo and song just asking to be belted by musical theater majors everywhere. But we see it, we hear it, we get it – and then we have it explained to us just in case.
The biggest question about such autobiographical works is whether or not they can really be successful. For one, it’s a story still in progress, so can you really have the perspective necessary to tell it? And with a subject still living, can it be as honest as possible? Plumshuga is no doubt honest, but it also seems more concerned with triumph and celebrating a legend. Because of this, it’s hard to say that Plumshuga does Anderson’s story justice. It is, however, a tribute, and a story worth telling, and a story worth celebrating. I suspect, however, that this version is just a bit sanitized.
Performances continue at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Fridays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. on Saturdays, and 2 p.m. on Sundays at Stages at The Gordy, 800 Rosine. For more information, call 713-527-0123 or visit stageshouston.com. $30 to $84.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2022.
