29°

"Yellowman" is a love story, but the lovers are marred by forces of prejudice beyond their capacity to heal.

"Yellow" is a derogatory term for a light-skinned black. One of the major themes of the play is the presumed curse of blacks' desire to be "light, small and beautiful." This may not be an agony most of us here in Juneau can relate to; nevertheless the persistence of racism as a force of evil in the world cannot be ignored.

Beyond further awakening to this ruinous theme - the depth of anger and despair created by skin tone - the main reason to see this gritty performance is to witness an astounding tour-de-force by two exceptionally talented actors who create a whole seething, breathing world on stage. With just the two of them. Both actors have made an extended visit to Juneau - we wish they would stay!

Jordan Barbour plays, mostly, Eugene, a light-skinned black man from the deep South who loves a darker woman, Alma, his childhood sweetie. In one fantastic scene he plays his own "yellow" mother. With a hand at his lips and a twist in his hips, Barbour becomes Thelma as she accuses him of stealing her inheritance, invoking her father - Eugene's grandfather, whom he resembles - and also her coal-black husband, who can't forgive Eugene for being lighter skinned. So, here is Barbour, who mostly plays Eugene, now playing Thelma, who in turn imitates both Eugene's grandfather and father interacting with her, as she interacts with her son. Barbour keeps this all straight seamlessly, brilliantly: from the perspective of an audience member the interplay of the various characters remains crystal clear.

In another scene, Barbour has a longer bit playing Eugene's grandfather: he lifts his shoulder a notch, not much, makes his eyebrows heavier and does something jowly with his face. Before our eyes becomes 60 years older.

Ericka Lee also uses her wonderfully moldable face and Gumby-doll body to incredible effect in portraying a host of characters, primarily Alma, Eugene's lover, and Odelia, Alma's mother. Ironically, as Alma tries to escape the indentured poverty and self-loathing that was her mother's lot in life, her own doubts about being loved poison her nearly successful attempt to break free.

Though Young Alma makes much of her swinging pelvis and her innocent enjoyment of the sensuality of becoming a woman, ultimately these lovely qualities involute and we witness Lee starting to look more like her mother, slumping with knees wide apart in the chair, disheveled.

Lee and Barbour expend a prodigious amount of energy bringing a complex script to life: I especially loved their portrayal of Alma and Eugene as children. Of course, this is when the rituals of their inner torture and rejection began, but the actors are simply delightful in their exuberant portrayal of childhood energy. They fairly fly around the stage, playing patty-cake and bouncing up and down the dusty small-town Carolina roads in the stifling heat.

As they mature their interaction becomes more nuanced; the consummation of their sweet love is beautifully portrayed - a slow and gymnastic pas de deux. So why does this love unravel? Because of the rancor of hatred, fueled by alcoholism and hopelessness. Not cheery themes. But the acting is truly a marvel.

• Emily Kane can be reached at DoctorEm@aol.com.