The Brooklyn Rail

In Colm Summers’s words, “The history of American theater is written in labor plays.”

As the Artistic Director of Working Theater, a New York-based company completely committed to creating theater specifically “for, about, and with working people,” Summers would be the one to know. Founded in 1985, Working Theater has led the way in the development of sliding-scale ticket initiatives and mobile performance units, all while championing the work of artists who may lack or have lacked access to theater.

The plays that Working Theater produce and commission take an expansive look at the “labor play” and include stories of labor movements and working-class people. Summers noted that there’s a popular assumption that working-class art and narratives lack complexity, but in reality, it is work that is often the most boundary-pushing, avant-garde, and critically acclaimed. These plays are dotted throughout the history of theater, from Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman to Dominique Morisseau’s Skeleton Crew.

This fall offers two working-class plays, a revival of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s 2003 work, The Brothers Size, which ran through September 28 at The Shed, and a revival production of Martyna Majok’s Queens, currently running at New York City Center. Both break free of classical play structures and highlight underserved and infrequently represented communities.

The Brothers Size follows Ogun and his younger brother Oshoosi, as they navigate Oshoosi’s reentry into the working world upon his release from incarceration. Ogun, ever-practical, encourages his brother to join him working at his auto-shop, but vibrant, haunted Oshoosi seeks something more. Lyrical, rhythmic, and almost dream-like, McCraney’s work is written in the style of Yoruba story-theater, with characters who speak their stage directions. This gives a sort of haziness to the play that conjures the bayou, with a thick humidity seeping into the space despite The Shed’s frigid AC. It draws the audience in; per McCraney, “It’s hard not to be a part of the storytelling.” The Brothers Size is about siblings, yes, but also about community, about empathy, and seeing the “deities in people.”

Like McCraney, Majok says she “sees the epic in stories of working-class people.” A memory play weaving together multiple timelines, Queens offers glimpses into the lives of two generations of immigrant women living in an illegal basement apartment. Once again, there’s an almost musical quality to it, and Majok described this structure as choosing “the core of a song” and then “arranging the harmonies” around it.

She also shared that the play blossomed from “a mentality of scarcity, of feeling unwelcome in the country you live in, moving through life with a sense of anxious vigilance over basic human safety.” Queens is not a balm for the struggles immigrant women continue to experience in America, but rather a necessary way to to honor them.

When immigrants are being imprisoned and vanishing from detention center databases, art that highlights these people “in hopes of finding compassion,” as Majok put it, is essential. Queens star Anna Chlumsky said, “We are always welcoming and not welcoming people to our shores, and it’s always worth asking about the human condition in a sense of mobilization.”

For theatermakers like Summers, McCraney, and Majok, these stories are meant to be heard by the populations they are about.

McCraney, who also serves as the Artistic Director of the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles, established a Theater as a Lens for Justice program at the Geffen, creating and performing works with and for incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals. McCraney shared that he next intends to bring this production of The Brothers Size to a facility, and Summers noted that while many “artivists helicopter in and out of communities,” Working Theater is committed to building lasting relationships. This is enacted through training programs, playwriting and performance courses tailored to union organizations, and their Five Boroughs/One City Initiative, which invites local community members to devise and develop scripts that speak to their identities and neighborhoods. Majok, who also serves as a mentor for one of Working Theater’s commissioned writers, Max Garcia, called the work a “vital part of expanding and nurturing the types of stories we get to experience.”

When thinking of her own plays, Majok envisions her audience as divided into two groups. In one section are subscribers and patrons “with disposable income.” The others are high school students and their immigrant parents. Manhattan Theatre Club (MTC) has an affordable ticket program for theatergoers under thirty-five, and offers a limited number of complimentary tickets to college students (Majok also hopes to “find ways to subsidize tickets for their parents”). Likewise, The Shed offers discounted tickets to under-thirties, although the costs vary per production (“Under 30” tickets for The Brothers Size were 25 dollars, whereas for Tom Hanks’s upcoming play, This World of Tomorrow, they are 45 dollars).

“Plays are things you make a choice to show up to,” McCraney said. “If someone wants to see a show, they should be able to go.”

Summers urges holistic thinking when advocating for inclusivity: Where is the theater? Can someone get there by public transportation? Is the play affordable? Does the theater accept cash? Is there a language barrier? Thinking through an audience member’s journey from their home to their seat shines a spotlight on the ‍gaps in accessibility.

It’s easy to talk about wanting theater to be more accessible, to say that plays should resonate with broader audiences, that everyone deserves a seat at the table. It’s a challenge to actually put in the work. But Working Theater, McCraney, and Majok are offering community, the exact kinds of stories that matter, and a roadmap or path to accessible performances that anyone can follow.

See the work, write about it, engage with it, and, in Summers’s words, “become a fixture.”