‘Choir Boy’ Sings to the Heavens at Shotgun Players

Pharus Jonathan Young is gifted beyond measure, and affirms that fact every time he opens his mouth to sing.

You see, there’s a sheen on his pipes, informed by his ancestry, the self-assured values of his theology and the knowledge that he, and no one else, needs to be the centerpiece of the choir at Charles R. Drew Preparatory School for Boys.

But young men who aren’t terribly masculine-presenting don’t get the privilege of being themselves. While Pharus’ quick and sly tongue matches his perfect pitch, every note he sings with persuasion is a threat to the other young Black men at the school.

In Shotgun Players’ tension-rich production of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s Choir Boy, a young, effeminate teen faces self-imposed pressure. But the weight he creates for himself can’t compare to the heaviness placed on him by others.

With a voice built and blessed by the Lord, Pharus (William Schmidt) is a high school junior who is chosen to lead the choir at commencement exercises. Yet after Pharus decides to react onstage to a homophobic slur quietly delivered mid-song by Bobby (Miles Meckling), Headmaster Marrow (Fred Pitts) must take punitive action. After all, the audience had been loaded with well-connected Drew men, and words like “honor” and “integrity” are bandied about constantly at Drew, issued to students as a way of life.

While the headmaster demands answers, Pharus’ commitment to being all-Drew through and through means that outing the homophobe isn’t an option.

It is too simplistic to suggest Choir Boy is a coming-of-age tale, but the nuances of similar plays about teens navigating very specific challenges are present in McCraney’s story. Director Darryl V. Jones implements an insightful staging that allows the flow of information and ideas to move smoothly through 110 consecutive minutes, even with a fair share of different locations. And while at times the acting can be uneven, even a little hokey, the devices that tell the story are implemented with a keen, sharp eye.

A highlight is how music and dance is built to express the richness of the story, and its intersection of religion and sexuality. Luscious harmonies are carefully crafted by music director Daniel Alley, and recordings of multiple numbers, brilliantly engineered by Michael Kelly, create a smoking-hot fusion of sound that houses many surprises expressed through Ashby Stage’s speakers. The stepping in the show, driven home with a thunderous, authoritative boom, is masterful in the hands of choreographer AeJay Anotonis Marquis.

The strength of McCraney’s script, as well as Jones implementing his specific vision, is found in the fact that stock characteristics of teenage students do not dominate the storytelling. The students have piercing conversations about a variety of topics: how honor and trust applies in real time, gospel’s true role during chattel slavery, how to live an authentic life while not asking and not telling. Their brittle hearts break with each new discovery that shapes their future worldview, but those same hearts soar when the clouds of adolescence part for even the briefest of moments.

The unsung hero is AJ (Wesley Barker), who feels no threat by having a roommate many others would never allow in their presence. AJ is playful, handsome and deep. With AJ, Pharus can embrace his full self, accepting the soft in his dorm room as he deals constantly with the rough everywhere else. Barker advocates beautifully for AJ in a perceptive performance.

Others round out the cast swimmingly. David (Omar Stewart) carries a mysterious bent, harboring secrets of his own, with Stewart keeping his David on the periphery of fuller engagement. Yet his voice is unmistakable, each note coming from a darker and more guttural place that ultimately leads to his brutal gut punch.

As Mr. Pendleton, the only white character, Malcolm B. Rodgers is able to offer the cringiest cringe while still assuring that his turn as the bumbling teacher has some depth. And as the headmaster, Pitts nicely portrays conflicts that so many carry when reckoning with the issues of authority, morality and tolerance.

In one of the play’s tenderest and most poignant moments, AJ invites Pharus into his bed at the end of a long day. It turns out, with the weight of the world on Pharus’ broad, suffocated shoulders, the offer of a shared pillow and some sweet bonding over a good night’s sleep is the most beautiful gift one friend can offer the other.

‘Choir Boy’ runs through Oct. 26 at Shotgun Players’ Ashby Stage in Berkeley. Details here.