1. Jordan (as he is designated in the script; Toby Onwumere, left), a new hire, introduces himself to his skeptical and hostile colleagues in Ife Olujobi’s satire, Jordans.
At the outset of Ife Olujobi’s Jordans, a surreal comic-horror satire of racial capitalism and its effects on Black bodies, Jordan (Naomi Lorrain), a Black receptionist at a fashionable event space/production facility, essentially builds the stylish, gleaming set (designed by Matt Saunders). This activity is one of many moments in director Whitney White’s sleek production when Jordan’s unceasing labor in the face of disregard or outright hostility from her all-white co-workers is highlighted. Later, when Jordan’s colleague Emma (Brontë England-Nelson) says in a presentation to their wicked boss, Hailey (Kate Walsh), that the women at the firm are “slaving away,” she explicitly does not include Jordan in her statement.
Naomi Lorrain as Jordan (right), suffers under her “evil succubus” of a boss, Hailey (Kate Walsh). Photographs by Joan Marcus.
Jordan refers to her white co-workers as “L-train demons” (the setting is a “trendy” part of Brooklyn or “similar urban center”), and they more than live up to this description. There is the trio of obnoxious and thoughtless bros—Ryan (Ryan Spahn), Tyler (Matthew Russell), and Fletcher (Brian Muller)—along with Emma and Maggie (Meg Steedle), who exemplify a nightmare version of capitalistic white feminism.
The strokes here are broad: this is a play of ideas, not characters: none of these employees have a single redeeming quality or moment of awareness. In charge of these demonic spawn is the “evil succubus” Hailey. Early moments of the surreal, aided by Fan Zhang’s first-rate sound design and original composition, hint that the language of “demons” and “succubus” may not be entirely metaphorical.
Jordan is invisible—or, worse, visible but merely as an object, reflected in the way empty coffee cups are thrown at her as though she is synonymous with the wastebasket. In a horrifyingly blasé early moment, Hailey sips a cup of coffee handed to her by Jordan, but is presumably dissatisfied with the temperature and expresses that dissatisfaction by pouring the contents of the cup onto Jordan. This is taken in stride as no big deal, which makes it all the more chilling.
But why Jordans, plural? Because, in a cynical ploy, Hailey wants to hire someone who can bring a veneer of diversity to the company. In a rambling discussion, as Jordan looks on from behind her receptionist’s desk, vividly present to the audience but invisible to her colleagues, Hailey attempts to explain:
This studio… What we’re doing here… It’s all about image. Perception. And I think we’ve maintained … what I would consider to be an admirable dedication to aestheticism in the face of sociopolitical turmoil, but I sense that we’ve reached … a breaking point … an impasse … a new frontier, which requires that, in order to survive, which is to remain financially viable, to continue to put money in all of our pockets, we must … shift our approach, slightly … open the doors … to accommodate … to include … the marginalized … the disenfranchised …?
Ryan (Ryan Spahn, left) and co-worker Emma (Brontë England-Nelson), are two of the “L-train demons” who populate the office.
Enter 1. Jordan, a Black man hired as Director of Culture. Played by Toby Onwumere, 1. Jordan has big plans, but it soon becomes apparent that Hailey simply wants him around as window dressing. In one of the play’s more effective and disturbing scenes, 1. Jordan introduces himself to the white staff, but no one will accept his answers about his biography, so they keep asking him the same questions in rapid-fire succession until his answers conform to the stereotypes they expect (inner-city, raised by a single mother, etc.). One of the ironies of the play is that Jordan and 1. Jordan are unable to bond and support each other; rather, they end up entangled in ruthless competition, one that is escalated because their co-workers cannot tell the two Jordans apart, which presents opportunities for role reversal (which, in the second act, is manifested bodily, as 1. Jordan becomes pregnant).
As the second act ramps up from broad satire with touches of the surreal into a phantasmagoric nightmare, the through line becomes murkier. There is a burst of extreme violence staged with B-horror-movie effect, which elicited tepid laughter from the audience. Since the characters are so over-the-top—they are demons, after all—the violence doesn’t shock; and since the play is a critique of capitalism, Jordan’s triumph cannot be, say, taking over the company and thus perpetuating the system that has caused her plight in the first place. So there is only mutual destruction. There is a lot to admire in Jordans, including Lorrain’s moving, defiant performance and Olujobi’s bold voice; but while the first act is full of rich ideas, the second opts for sound and fury, signifying something.
Ife Olujobi’s Jordans runs through May 12 at the Public Theater (425 Lafayette St.). Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday; matinees are at 1:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Tickets are available at publictheater.org.
Playwright: Ife Olujobi
Director: Whitney White
Sets: Matt Saunders
Lighting: Cha See
Costumes: Qween Jean
Sound Design & Composition: Fan Zhang
