Greek Gods. Check. Yoruba Gods. Check. Basketball Gods. Check.
It’s a combination you won’t find elsewhere, save for the New York Theatre Workshop (NYTW), located in Manhattan’s East Village. Their production of The Half-God of Rainfall, written by Inua Ellams, directed by Taibi Magar, with movement direction by Orlando Pabotoy, is heaven-sent.
Ellams’ play, adapted from his book of the same title, is “a contemporary epic that weaves poetry and storytelling in a majestic journey that transports us from a tiny village in South West Nigeria to an NBA arena in the United States to the hallowed halls of Mount Olympus.” The story, braiding together the imagery of basketball, the language of war, and the grandiosity of our greatest myths, is a poetic and dramatic marvel.
At its start, the play is focused on Demi, the titular Half-God of Rainfall.
“When Demi, the half Nigerian-mortal, half Greek-god, is angry, rain clouds gather. When he cries, rivers burst their banks. And the first time he takes a shot on a basketball court, the deities of the land wake up.” But, as conflicts within and between the heavens and the earth unfold, a grander narrative is revealed.
The Half-God of Rainfall reckons with our myths that are built upon the hubris and violence of gods and men alike, often at the expense and erasure of the mothers and daughters left in their wake. Ellams is a justice-seeker, ultimately handing the narrative mic and the power back to these women with his play.
Ellams, a Nigerian poet and playwright, cites his upbringing in a Christian and Muslim household, his family’s emigration from Nigeria to the United Kingdom, and the work of Dante as inspiration for the poems that eventually became The Half-God of Rainfall, which premiered at London’s Kiln Theatre in 2019 as a piece to be performed by two people. Ellams has been developing the play with artistic support from the New York Theatre Workshop in the years since, where it is now performed by a cast of seven. This version, a co-production between the Workshop and the American Repertory Theater (A.R.T.) in Cambridge, Mass., closes out the former’s 2022 – 2023 season and will open the latter’s 2023 – 2024 season when it transfers there in September.
Staging an epic that spans worlds, millenia, and pantheons in a tight 90 minutes is a titanic undertaking. Magar, Pabotoy, and the whole company of Half-God are up to the task. Many of the play’s highlights, from basketball games, to clashes between the gods, to the rushing of rivers, are represented onstage by the beautifully stylized movement of the performers.
Pabotoy’s movement direction is at once fresh and innovative, while also feeling like a resurgence of ancient and fabled gesture. Beatrice Capote, who provided movement consulting and choreography for the Yoruba Gods (known as Orisha), hones spiritual steadiness and bodily fluidity with her work. Magar’s keen direction shows a mastery over distance and time; her vision of this expansive story and world is rightfully imposing, but never overwhelming.
On top of performing the stylized movement mentioned above, each member of the cast plays their primary role and a variety of other roles (lesser gods, basketball coaches, etc.) and frequently shifts between self-narration and embodied performance of their character(s). Juggling multiple characters, modes of performance, and movement styles is no small feat, but this cast makes it look easy. At the start of the play, the performing company enters the stage together and introduces themselves, one by one, saying their real name and listing the characters they’ll be playing in the show. It’s a bold and wise choice, cutting down on potential confusion later and introducing us to the level of theatricality we learn to expect from the play.
“Y’all ready?” Lizan Mitchell asks before stepping forward to deliver the first official line of the play as the “liminal trickster god and guardian of the crossroads,” Elegba. I know I am; this is the fifth play I’ve seen Mitchell in (including NYTW’s production of Aleshea Harris’ On Sugarland last year), and I’m awe-struck by her every time. Here, she portrays Elegba with a brazen, quirky wisdom that transcends time and space.
Hera is the queen of the Greek Gods, “often taking mortal form to spread ill-will and discontent and Goddess form to spew her stirring viperous breath,” according to the play. Kelley Curran embodies Hera’s shape-shifting qualities well, her nimble malice sending a shiver down my spine as she enacts her plots on Demi. Mister Fitzgerald is electrifying and endearing as Demi, shaped by and responding to unfair conditions beyond his control in a way befitting of a half-Greek, half-Nigerian, half-God hero.
Curran’s Greek accent, Fitzgerald’s Nigerian accent, among the many employed by the cast, were especially helpful markers as actors shifted in and out of different characters. Dawn-Elin Fraser, the production’s voice & dialect director, is a godsend.
Despite playing the only mortal in the primary cast, Jennifer Mogbock’s performance as Modúpé, Demi’s mother, is nothing short of heavenly. Dual-wielding her love for Demi and the pain from the circumstances of his conception, Mogbock grounds and centers this far-flung chronicle, and it is through her eyes that we’re able to see what is really at stake in the play.
The production is visually and technologically stunning. Riccardo Hernández’s scenic design is simple, elegant, and effective. The entire stage floor is covered with a dark, sand-like material with glimmering specks scattered throughout, suggesting a dirt court, flooded riverbanks, and the vast expanse of the cosmos all at once. The playing space is left mostly empty beyond that, providing an adaptable canvas for Magar, Pabotoy, and the cast.
Linda Cho’s costume design bears a similar simple elegance; in the opening tableau where the cast introduces themselves, they’re all wearing plain black clothing. Often, a character change is achieved by cleverly accessorizing the black base costume. Sometimes, a full dress or set of athletic wear makes an appearance, showcasing Cho’s versatility.
In a world where thunder, lighting, rain, and buzzer-beaters are crucial dramatic elements and regularly used as transitions, excellent sound and lighting design are paramount. Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound design is pitch-perfect, capturing the tense soundscape of a basketball championship and providing a distinct, but equally bone-rattling sound profile for each of the two thunder gods present in the play. Stacey Derosier’s lighting design is extraordinary, aptly reflecting each character’s divine brilliance, as well as her own. Her design features the most impressive use of theatrical fog I’ve ever seen, demonstrating a level of control over atmospheric gas that I assumed was impossible.
Many of these sound and lighting cues must be fired with laser-like sharpness and precision to land correctly. Luckily, the stage management team (Caroline Englander and Thea McRae) appears to have been blessed by Artemis herself.
The Half-God of Rainfall’s final battle is the culmination of everything that makes this production exceptional. In the showdown between Greek myth’s greatest villain and the great Nigerian hero built up by Ellams’ narrative, everyone is firing on all cylinders. Between the stylized combat, the narration, the performances, and the technical design, the concluding clash is a heart-pounding experience I won’t soon forget. It is beautiful. It is powerful. It is purifying. Most importantly, It sets the record straight.
Early in the play, Modúpé describes Demi’s face as “a map of pure glee.” The same could probably be said of my face as I exited the theater into the air of East 4th Street, reflecting on what I had just experienced. The Percy Jackson kid in me is definitely pleased by The Half-God of Rainfall, but so is the more critically-minded adult I am today.
Still Playing: The Half-God of Rainfall runs through Aug. 20 at the New York Theatre Workshop, with tickets and ticket discount information available here and here. The production is co-produced by the American Repertory Theater (A.R.T.) in Cambridge, MA, where the play will then run from September 8 – 24, with tickets available here.
Up Next for Me: I’ll be attending the Atlantic Theatre Company’s (Writ)ual Mix: Traditions of the Diaspora festival of free new play readings from Aug. 7 – 16.
