Is God Is
The David Geffen School of Drama at Yale
New Haven
Through Jan. 31, 2026
“Poison is a punk ass way to kill somebody.”
So twins Racine and Anaia negotiate killing their daddy as the audience laughed.
The laughter is a relief because, in a punishing scene, the audience just learned that the twins’ daddy burned their mother alive. The twins are the collateral damage, and they have horrific scars to prove it.
Is God Is is darkly funny. Written by Aleshea Harris, the award-winning play, which premiered off Broadway in 2018, is a mashup of the spaghetti western, epic myth, Afrofuturism, and hip-hop. The version currently playing at The David Geffen School of Drama at Yale through Saturday is directed by MFA student Jasmine Brooks for her final-year thesis project.
Under Brooks’ direction, the play is a sensory-rich experience that deftly balances the heavy with the light (and a dash of the absurd) in its examination of a tragic family legacy.
Take the catalytic scene. A bandaged and wheezing “God” (the name by which the twins refer to their mother) gives a dying decree from her hospital bed: The twins must kill their father to avenge his unthinkable abuse. Oh, and bring her back any bit of treasure they find along the way.
Never mind that it’s their first time seeing her after 18 years apart. As scary and heartbreaking as God’s story is, she still managed to make the audience giggle uproariously with her self-serving antics.
“I think he got a bitch!” God croaks, as she lays out her grievances against their father.
This scene is set on a stark stage with conceptually rich material that catches the eye. As God recalls the frightening moment the twins’ father set her ablaze, her memories are projected above the stage and on a background screen. Sepia-toned scenes play out through silhouetted figures and quick flashes of violence. In a brilliant bit of stagecraft, the sound of a stove burner cuts off just as God finished gives her harrowing account.
“The peace will come when he go,” she tells the twins gravely.
So the twins have to figure out how to kill their father – and fast. Only a mother could incite a guilt trip this extreme.
As the Racine and Anaia set about finding their father, the stage is lit up from their antics. Their dynamic silhouettes set against bright, minimalist backdrops make for striking visuals. Clad in hiking boots, they’re dressed like they’re about to see their favorite bands in Indio Valley. Maybe not such practical fits for a murder spree. Rapper Doechii’s brash “NISSAN ALTIMA” and Rihanna’s sultrily menacing “Desperado” play as they twerk their way across the country.
Throughout their journey, the twins must reconcile their murderous instincts (Racine) and feelings of unworthiness (Anaia). They carry a lot of pain and anger from years of enduring abuse and ridicule, and they’ve bonded through it. A playful ease between the twins leads to a lot of laugh-out-loud moments, but there is also a ton of carnage. The weapon that Racine selects to do the killing requires an intimacy in wielding it. The violence is up close and personal, forcing the audience to confront not just the act itself but the emotional cost of committing it.
The performances ground the play’s heightened language and stylization into something deeply human. Racine’s volatility contrasts sharply with Anaia’s hesitance, creating a push-and-pull that drives the narrative forward.
Brooks’ production displays a tonal dexterity that leaves the audience in a quandary of emotional truths. The audience’s amusement and delight vie with dread and disgust at the measures taken by the twins. Brooks’ intention is to showcase the rawness of Black women reclaiming their power, as twisted as the reclamation may appear. “They take their destiny in their own hands. They’re telling their own story,” she says.
Actress Tyler Clarke, who plays Racine, believes the twins were willing to go such extremes for God because she represents safety for them. She justifies the twins’ bloodthirst by saying, “We never had a foundation. We never had a real mom. Never had a real dad. We weren’t aware of what manipulation was from them.”
The impact of the play was palpable for audience member Mohamed Ramy. At the end, he was left wondering, “What does intergenerational trauma look like in Black communities and in communities of color, in general?”
This is a question Brooks seeks to answer through the message of the play: “Sometimes you have to burn everything down to start again.”
