Clybourne Park | Stage
By Michael Billington
guardian.co.uk
September 3, 2010

4 out 5 stars

It was Bruce Norris's The Pain and the Itch that three years ago signalled Dominic Cooke's intention to use the Court's stage to question bourgeois values. Now he brings us an even more lethal satire from Norris that confronts the intersection between property and race. The result is a troublingly funny play which argues, however much America has changed over the past 50 years, rooted prejudices remain intact.

The play is set in the same Chicago house in 1959 and 2009, and has a neat symmetry. The first act, openly inspired by Lorraine Hansberry's A Raisin In The Sun, reveals the consternation when a white, middle-class couple propose to sell their Clybourne Park property to a black family: though their aim is to escape the memory of the suicide of their Korean war vet son, they are savagely accused of undermining property values. Fifty years on, the scene is re-enacted; this time it is a question of white interlopers who want to raze the house and rebuild, and are charged with destroying historic memories of an ethnically rich community.

Baldly summarised, the play sounds like American sociology, but it is infinitely richer. Norris's skill lies in stripping away the polite camouflage of euphemism to reveal the racism of America, then and now. In 1959 the debate about coloured infiltration of a white sanctuary is conducted with staggering insensitivity in front of the black maid and her husband, patronised even by the liberal house-owners.

But the gloves come off in the second act. After a deal of verbal skirmishing, the white male house-buyer tells a racist joke which is trumped by a black female resident. Far from trading in stereotypes, what Norris is showing is that, even in Obama's America and in the age of political correctness, racial antagonism is exposed in all its rawness when property is at stake.

I'm not equipped to judge the accuracy of his observation, but, in Cooke's excellently acted production, it carries enormous emotional charge. Martin Freeman in both acts becomes the horrifically plausible spokesman for white resentment, while Sarah Goldberg looks on as his appalled wife. Lorna Brown and Lucien Msamati, mutinously subservient in the first half, convincingly show the emergence of a black couple's economic power. And Sophie Thompson is dazzling, first as a pseudo 1950s liberal and then as a sharp-witted lawyer. Even if the issue of the war veteran returns awkwardly at the climax, Norris's play nails the thorny subject of race relations with a bilious zest that takes one's breath away.

Clybourne Park, Royal Court, review - Telegraph
By Charles Spencer
September 3, 2010

There is a richness of the characterisation and a rawness of the subject matter in Bruce Norris' play. Rating: * * * *

Not since the British premiere of David Mamet's Oleanna in 1993 has a play at the Royal Court set the audience on such a roar as Bruce Norris's Clybourne Park. There are moments when the mixture of laughter and disbelief among the audience, whose liberal pieties are challenged throughout, prove every bit as exciting as what's happening on stage.

Norris, an American, is in the business of ruffling feathers and giving the hypocrisy of middle-class bien-pensants a good bashing as he proved three years ago with The Pain and the Itch, also staged at the Court.

Clybourne Park is even better, its study of racial prejudice in America presented with both structural elegance and a superb ear for often viciously comic dialogue.

The first act is set in 1959 and is a sequel to Lorraine Hansbury's celebrated play of that year, A Raisin in the Sun, in which a black family move into a white suburb of Chicago and are met with virulent opposition from the residents' association. Here we meet the white vendors, who are anxious to leave because their son committed suicide in the house a couple of years earlier.

Norris brilliantly combines a genuinely moving account of a family torn-apart by grief with sharp satire on the neighbours who gradually reveal their racist tendencies, all played out in front of a black maid and her husband.

Then in the second half Norris pulls off a daring coup. We are in the same house but it is now 2009 and a white couple are trying to buy into the neighbourhood that has become almost exclusively black. After years of social problems the area is coming up again. The incomers want to raze the old humble home and put up something grander. But black Americans now control the residents' committee, and want to preserve buildings that have acquired cultural significance. Or are they being racist too, merely wanting to keep out the whites just as the whites tried to keep out the blacks 50 years earlier?

All this might seem schematic if it weren't for the richness of the characterisation and the rawness of the subject matter. Many white middle-class Americans like to pretend that racial prejudice no longer exists but Norris suggests the very reverse is true in an extraordinary climactic scene that threatens to blow the roof off the theatre when the aggressive white buyer and the superbly assured black woman on the residents' committee deliver a succession of increasingly outrageous racist jokes as if fighting a duel.

Dominic Cooke's superb production deftly negotiates the play's amazing mixture of edgy humour and deeper feeling, with the cast playing two roles each, one in 1959, and the other in 2009. There is especially outstanding work from Sophie Thompson as the bereaved mother and a hideously loud-mouthed modern lawyer; from Martin Freeman as the slimily racist resident association boss, and Lorna Brown as both the apparently humble maid and the supremely confident black resident resisting the white invasion.

Under Cooke's outstanding artistic directorship, the Royal Court continues to startle, provoke and amuse in equal measure.

Clybourne Park at Royal Court Theatre on Spoonfed
Things to do in London
By: Naima Khan
September 3, 2010

4 out of 5 stars

A great ensemble cast run a gauntlet of black guy gags in this hilarious play by Bruce Norris.

Taking his cue from A Raisin in the Sun, playwright Bruce Norris delves into an imagining of the events surrounding the move of an aspirational black family, the Youngers, into a white, middle-class, American neighbourhood. The first act of Clybourne Park is set in 1959, when liberal white couple Bev and Russ pack up their home after selling it cheaply to the Youngers to escape the lingering suicide of their war-veteran son. The second act begins in 2009: the Youngers are long gone but their home remains of great historical value to the community, though not so much to a white couple who want to demolish it.

Martin Freeman has the privilege of playing the cruelly blatant Karl Lindner who appeared briefly in A Raisin in the Sun when he tried to dissuade the Youngers from their move to Clybourne Park. Freeman shines again in the second act as Steve, whose thoughts on "the ghetto" will, or at least should, split crowds. It's in the lines that explore this issue that Norris triumphs as he allows Freeman's character to be at first the obnoxious voice of prejudice and then the hesitant voice of white guilt.

Norris seems to have detached himself with a cleverly sculpted ensemble of characters played by a uniformly talented cast. They exude biting wit and are all masters of comic timing. The politically correct Lindsey (a fantastically funny Sarah Goldberg) is married to the less-so Steve who comes to polite blows with humorous Kevin, played by the versatile Lucian Msamati, and his cool wife Lena (Lorna Brown).

Kevin and Lena implore their white neighbours to consider the historical value of the house they are about to raze, while trying to avoid dictating how to construct their home. The conversation is calm, affable and jammed with spiked humour until Steve dares talk about race using the word race.

But is this a play about prejudice? In the first act yes. Norris does away with euphemism and displays the ignorance that prevailed fifty years ago. Sophie Thomas is staggering in her portrayal of the desperate '50s housewife Bev, still mourning for her son but with a big brave smile slapped across her face as she tries to give away her possessions to her black maid.

However, in the second act (2009) language becomes the focus as both couples stumble through a conversation about the rise in crime rates and drugs and run a gauntlet of race-related jokes. Norris then shines a light on the difference in their values. He draws a contrast between the black community's concern for the historical importance of the house and the white couple's right to build their own home in an odd game of top trumps.

Disappointingly, he only touches on the actions we're taking today that we are likely to regret. But his play is superbly performed and relentlessly funny in its exploration of a weighty issue. Though he makes the common mistake of throwing in unnecessary, additional gritty issues towards the end, and leaves us with a cheesy final scene, Clybourne Park is by far one of the best contemporary plays on race.

Clybourne Park is the funniest play of the year | Theatre
By Henry Hitchings
thisislondon.co.uk
September 3, 2010

5 stars

Bruce Norris's Clybourne Park is an achingly intelligent study of middle-class hypocrisy. Shrewd about racial prejudice, territorialism and marital discord, it will make audiences of all kinds feel ill at ease. More to the point, it's the funniest new play of the year.

Its setting is the Chicago neighbourhood of the title — the location for A Raisin In The Sun, Lorraine Hansberry's Fifties drama about race and housing.

In the first half, which takes place in 1959 and carries a distinct whiff of Mad Men, white couple Russ and Bev are moving out; the neighbours are scandalised to discover that they are selling to a black family. In the second, it's 2009 and we're in the same property, now dilapidated but the centre of ambitious redevelopment plans.

The second half feeds ingeniously off the traumas of the first. Robert Innes-Hopkins's design makes the connection tangible. Language and legislation may have altered, but tensions persist, and so do toxic social clich's .

Yet Norris does a lot more than peddle the line that nothing has changed. His writing sparkles. He is subtle, and even elements that initially feel cartoonish are wickedly undercut.

Part of his skill lies in his refusal to see racism as blandly monolithic. He depicts it as complex and layered, manifesting itself in strikingly different ways. He's adept, too, at making the past vivid while treating the present with an unusual degree of detachment. And the most nagging anxieties are not articulated; instead they are left to gnaw at the audience.

In Dominic Cooke's crisp production, Martin Freeman is a delight as pedantic Karl and Sophie Thompson is spot-on as robotic Bev. There's excellent work from Steffan Rhodri and Sam Spruell, a nicely understated performance from Lucian Msamati, a punchy one from Lorna Brown, and a bright-eyed freshness from Sarah Goldberg. Clybourne Park gets off to a sluggish start, the plot is a little too contrived, and the humour drawn from one character's deafness leaves a somewhat sour taste. But that, you could say, is Norris's gift: he is the poet laureate of discomfort, a startling and unsettling observer of miscommunication, and this is thrillingly provocative theatre.

The Stage / Reviews / Clybourne Park
By Aleks Sierz
September 3, 2010

Some of Britain's best comedy actors, familiar from The Office and Gavin and Stacey, feature in this new play (first seen in New York earlier this year) by American author Bruce Norris, which kicks off the autumn season at the Royal Court with a production directed by this venue's artistic director. It's the second play by Norris to be put on here, and like its predecessor, The Pain and the Itch in 2007, it dissects middle-class suburban life.

Set in Chicago, the play is about race and property, and spans two eras, 1959 and 2009. In Act I, a white couple, Russ and Bev, are selling their house because their son, a Korean veteran, has committed suicide there. But other local residents, led by Karl, are none too pleased that the new owners are a black family.

In Act II, the incomers are white rather than black. Now, a white couple, Steve and his pregnant wife Lindsey, want to buy the property in order to replace it with a brash new modern house. But the local community, represented mainly by Lena and Kevin - a black couple - have certain concerns that this huge new house will destroy the local townscape.

Directed by Dominic Cooke, who thought so highly of The Pain and the Itch that he chose it as the first play he directed when he took over leadership of this venue, Clybourne Park is a hilarious and transgressive play that questions racial stereotypes and plays wicked games with political correctness. Norris' chosen weapon is humour and he uses it to great effect, especially in the second half.

Cooke's cast is excellent, with a fine mix between cartoonish exaggeration and believable reality. Martin Freeman is excellent as the ghastly Karl and the truth-telling Steve, Sophie Thompson excels as the grimace-queen Bev, while Lorna Brown and Lucian Msamati make the black couples into agents of quiet subversion in the first part and blatant anger in the second. Mention must also be made of Steffan Rhodri as Russ and Sarah Goldberg as Lindsey.

Review of Clybourne Park
By Peter Brown
londontheatre.co.uk
September 2, 2010

4 out of 5 stars

When the first black president moved into the White House, I suspect the event triggered inspiration in the mind of actor/writer Bruce Norris, and possibly reminded him of a play about a black family moving into a white neighbourhood. Well, I don't know exactly how Mr Norris got the idea for this play, but it seems a pretty likely explanation.

The play develops themes and the story from the 1959 play entitled 'A Raisin In The Sun' by Lorraine Hansberry which describes the experiences of a black family, the Youngers, who sought to buy a home in an exclusively white neighbourhood called Clybourne Park, which is where Mr Norris found his title.

The two acts of 'Clybourne Park' are set 50 years apart. In the first act, it's 1959 and Russ (Steffan Rhodri) and Bev (Sophie Thompson) are packing up their belongings to move to a new house. They've sold their home at a knock-down price which — unbeknown to them — has enabled a black family to buy in an exclusively white neighbourhood. This doesn't go down well with the locals who fear that, as a result, their own homes will depreciate in value. Act 2 takes place in 2009. In the intervening years, the area has become an entirely black neighbourhood, and the original house has fallen into disrepair. White couple Steve (Martin Freeman) and Lindsey (Sarah Goldberg) intend demolishing it and building a new one on the site.

Robert Innes-Hopkins's set for act 1 is homely in a way that reminds one of old films or commercials from the 50s. But, by the time act 2 arrives, the house — though it has exactly the same layout and structure - has become gloomily derelict. The transformation between the two acts is quite astonishing - a veritable triumph in set design and execution.

Casting an eye over the first few pages of the script didn't exactly fill me with eager anticipation. Frankly, I found it a little bland. But that perception rapidly changed when the actors began to deliver it - which just goes to show that reading a play and having it acted for you by a professional cast are quite different matters. The cast here have two sets of roles for the two acts. But though the characters are different in the second act, Bruce Norris cleverly integrates similarities between each actor's roles, and not just in terms of their race. For instance, Steffan Rhodri's Russ is pretty much a down-to-earth, stalwart, guy-next-door kind of person in act 1, and in act 2 he is a builder who is preparing the foundations for the new house and has similar character traits.

The performances from a very fine cast, are quite simply superb. In particular, Sophie Thompson's housewife, Bev, is a study in homely domesticity and has a wonderful way of gaping with her mouth wide open in anticipation. And Martin Freeman's excellent Karl and Steve both have the ability to prolong an argument long after it should have ended. In some of the characterisations — most notably Bev and Jim, the minister - there's an element of cartoon, or perhaps the style of B movies from the 1950s.

Though it starts off rather gently — both in terms of pace and humour — 'Clybourne Park' very quickly picks up speed and emotional intensity. So much so that by the second half it becomes hilarious, with some very risquξ — some would say bad-taste — jokes, which had the audience almost in stitches. There is a hint of sentimentality in the ending, but the remainder of the play is enormously rich and compelling, thanks to Dominic Cooke's brilliantly-paced direction that ably matches Bruce Norris's witty and intelligent script, which turns out to be anything but bland!

What the popular press had to say...

"Excellently acted production...Norris's play nails the thorny subject of race relations with a bilious zest that takes one's breath away" - Michael Billington for The Guardian

"Dominic Cooke's superb production deftly negotiates the play's amazing mixture of edgy humour and deeper feeling." - Charles Spencer for The Daily Telegraph

"The funniest new play of the year...This is thrillingly provocative theatre." - Henry Hitchings for The Evening Standard

"The Royal Court has come up with a cracking satire about the nightmarish tangle of 21st-century race awareness. - Quentin Letts for The Daily Mail

"Clybourne Park is a hilarious and transgressive play that questions racial stereotypes and plays wicked games with political correctness.

No more Mr Nice Guy ... Martin Freeman plays a racist | Showbiz
By Louise Jury
thisislondon.co.uk July 13, 2010

Martin Freeman, star of The Office, is to throw off his Mr Nice Guy image to play a racist in a new satirical drama.

His character is a white American shocked when the first black family moves into their cosy urban neighbourhood in 1959. Clybourne Park, by Bruce Norris, gets its European premiere at the Royal Court next month.

The drama has parallels with areas such as Bradford or Barking and Dagenham, with the character fearing change in his community, Freeman said. "Essentially he's a racist. [But] he certainly wouldn't think he's a racist, he just thinks people have their place and people are happier in their own community.

"[In this play] people get to say quite near-the-knuckle and nasty things. When the unsayable gets said it is uncomfortable." Freeman, who was born in Hampsire and grew up in Teddington, challenged liberals to do more to understand people tempted to support the far-Right.

Blaming immigrants for all society's problems was wrong, he said, "but people who ask questions about certain aspects of multiculturalism aren't all goosesteppers. There's a lot of old traditional Labour voters who feel they have been left behind.

"What the BNP stands for is wrong, you've got to convince people that way lies madness."

His co-stars include Sophie Thompson and Steffan Rhodri.