Marquette Theatre’s production of Harper Lee’s classic, To Kill a Mockingbird, is timely, and this team of student actors tells it carefully and consciously. In the talkback after the show, director Jamie Cheatham spoke about his desire to find ways to amplify the voices of the people of color in the show. The striking sound of the African American choir is the clearest example, a brilliant addition that anchors the play with sweet, sad melodies paralleling the action. From its first moments, the inclusion of song is what sets this Mockingbird apart; the cast enters singing as each of Maycomb’s eclectic, lovable characters are revealed. The impossibly low tones of Reverend Sykes, played well by Terry Lee Watkins Jr., rumble below the rest, adding a layer of richness to the community’s collective voice.
The set, by scenic designer Ronald Naversen, is visually arresting, and gives the audience plenty to explore even in the play’s slow moments. Similarly, Chester Loeffler-Bell’s vivid light design adds tangible atmosphere to moments of intensity within the story. A particularly stunning visual occurs just prior to the scene in which Atticus (Michael Cienfuegos-Baca) sits in solidarity outside the jailhouse. While the threatening gang stands anonymous in shadow, a wrenchingly sweet Scout (Madeleine Farley) reminds them of their individuality, and lays a strong foundation for the believable family bond between Atticus and his fiercely loyal children.
The play gains momentum as the story moves, held together by the pleasantly maternal narration of Miss Maudie (Mackenzie Possage) and the collage of characters, which adds credible texture to the town.
Stay on top of the news of the day
Subscribe to our free, daily e-newsletter to get Milwaukee's latest local news, restaurants, music, arts and entertainment and events delivered right to your inbox every weekday, plus a bonus Week in Review email on Saturdays.
Lee’s masterpiece has continued to ask the same vital questions about humanity and compassion since its publication in 1960, and Cheatham has chosen to implicate the audience in the search for answers. During the play’s longest scene, the trial of Tom Robinson (a heartbreakingly sincere Isáyah Phillips), the actors turn to the audience while addressing the jury, and suddenly the crowd seated in the dark holds a weighty responsibility, one that eerily mirrors the modern world while using language from half a century in the past.
