Sharlene Cruz, left, as G, and Jasal Chase-Owens as B, in Martyna Majok’s Sanctuary City.
The programs handed out at Martyna Majok’s Sanctuary City, produced by New York Theatre Workshop and presented at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, note that they have been “frozen in time”: they were printed for the play’s original run, which began in March 2020, and are now accompanied by a QR code providing updated information. This new information includes a remount director, Caitlin Sullivan, in addition to the original direction by Rebecca Frecknall.
The direction of this mostly two-person play is no easy task—at times, it borders on choreography, featuring the two protagonists on a bare stage with no props in a series of very short scenes that jump around several different timelines, with the audience alerted to the changes by pinpoint movement and Isabella Byrd’s excellent lighting design. The first five minutes or so might be disorienting, but soon you are fully situated, and invested, in the world and lives of B (Jasal Chase-Owens) and G (Sharlene Cruz), teenagers in Newark, N.J., in 2001–06, navigating Bush-era immigration policy and forming a deep, though platonic, relationship that will be tested with the passage of time.
B (Chase-Owens), during a difficult moment, with G in the background. Photographs by Joan Marcus.
Both B and G were born outside of the U.S., and Majok doesn’t specify where: “the countries of origin can suit the actors chosen,” she notes in the script. “No character, however, is of Western European origin/ethnicity.” B’s mother is returning to her home country, fearful of her immigration status in the wake of 9/11. B is left with the choice of staying to finish high school but living a life in the shadows as an “illegal” immigrant, or returning to a home he doesn’t know. G and her mother’s immigration status is also precarious. On top of that, she has an abusive stepfather and so spends most nights at B’s. But things improve for G: she and her mother get U.S. citizenship; the mother leaves the stepfather (though right away ends up with a new man: “I can’t seem to keep a dick outta that woman,” G laments); and G ends up with an opportunity to attend college in Boston.
B’s mixed feelings at G’s opportunities for a life that seems out of reach for him are all subtly portrayed by Chase-Owens—envy or fear might only manifest themselves in a flicker across his face. But then, suddenly B and G are quizzing each other: “Did your parents approve of the match?” A plan has been hatched at senior prom: B and G will marry, and B will become a U.S. citizen. The play jumps forward in time, and 3½ years later G is close to finishing college and B is working at a bar, but their plan is still pending, still offering hope, or at least the illusion of it.
G (Cruz) in the foreground, during one of the play’s many short scenes set in Newark, N.J., 2001–06.
Chase-Owens’s B is sensitive and determined, devoted to G but conflicted as well—can he be happy for her? Is he using her? Cruz’s G is irreverent, tough, and smart, with a humor both witty and coarse. She has been faithful to B while at college, even though their relationship is not a romantic one. Has witnessing her mother’s relationships soured her on finding one of her own? Both actors make their characters lovable without hiding their flaws; both manage to give them depth amid the fractured scenes. Both are true to Majok’s note in the script, “Avoid sentimentality and self-pity.”
The arc of B and G’s story through the first two-thirds of the play is accomplished without spelling everything out for the audience, who are instead given snippets of conversations. Majok’s writing excels in the moments of humor, which serve to cement the bond between B and G, and between the audience and the characters. You can feel things drifting toward tragedy as the cruelty and injustices of contemporary U.S. policy close in, but you can’t quite relinquish hope that everything will work out for these two.
The last third of Sanctuary City feels like an entirely different play, in every aspect, and a much weaker one. While the entrance of Henry (Austin Smith) provides a compelling revelation, what follows is a series of formulaic clashes between G and Henry (G had recently changed her mind about the marriage, but now wants to go through with it), which make little emotional sense and no longer feel rooted in character. Suddenly B and G seem entirely different people, thrust into a melodrama. As a result, the denouement doesn’t have the devastating force that it should, though it can’t erase the powerful and inventively staged story that has preceded it.
Sanctuary City runs through Oct. 10 at the Lucille Lortel Theatre (121 Christopher St.). Evening performances are Tuesday to Thursday and Sunday at 7 p.m. and Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m.; matinees are 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. For tickets, information, and pandemic attendance guidelines, visit nytw.org/show/sanctuary-city/.
