A staple of the first-year English curriculum at York, Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun, was performed at Leeds Playhouse from the 13th-28th September 2024, directed by Tinuke Craig.
Having recently moved to the city, I was eager to visit Leeds Playhouse, which I find to be an excellent and accessible venue with a strong lineup of projects. I chose to attend this production because this piece of work was my favourite reading of last year, inspiring me to write my essay on it.
The play follows the Younger family, an African American household in 1950s Chicago, as they struggle with discrimination and economic hardship. When they receive a $10,000 check, each member has different dreams for the money, creating tension and highlighting themes of identity, race, and the American Dream.
I felt confident going in as I was already familiar with the play. However, what ended up as listening to the original text almost word-for-word – just a few sentences were erased – and witnessing the precise stage directions and settings as written made me reflect on the nature of theatre productions and interpretations.
It’s difficult to criticise a production that faithfully replicates the original text. This production of A Raisin in the Sun stayed true to Lorraine Hansberry’s script, giving full credit to the author’s words and perhaps aiming to recreate how the play was performed in its early days. The responsibility, then, falls to the audience itself to interpret the story as they will and create their own sense of the play.
After all, the most fundamental distinction of drama is that it is meant to be performed on stage. It carries the author’s assumption that it will be transformed into a stage performance which is further defined by the stage directions. Then, where should we set the limit of the interpreter’s creativity? And why do I even feel dissatisfied after watching a perfect play?
Coming from the Czech Republic where independent theatres explore new forms of production and creativity and where, from my experience, word-for-word interpretations are reserved for the very few most commercial theatres, I couldn’t help but make comparisons. I also often find myself critical of some West End productions for being too commercialised; the audience gets what they expect, and nothing more.
What is the point of it, then? Why pay for tickets to see something that adheres strictly to the script? I could easily read the text and picture the stage in my head, or better yet, watch a film. But theatre is not meant to be a live-action film. I come for fresh interpretations, new perspectives, and creative experimentation using all kinds of media.
I did a bit of research online and found a paper from The Academy of Performing Arts in Prague: On the Interpretation and Analysis of Dramatic Texts by Professor Daria Ullrichová. She writes that while all interpretations are from a theoretical point of view equal, certain interpretations can still be considered less successful, particularly those that cling anxiously to the letter of the text while missing its spirit. The act of not cutting a single line or word from the text may demonstrate respect for the author, but that does not guarantee that such an interpretation aligns with the spirit or meaning of the text.
I do not think that this inscenation necessarily killed the spirit or the meaning of the text, but it is an interesting comment to think about. Had I not read A Raisin in the Sun beforehand, I might have found the pace overwhelming. The dialogue often felt rushed, as though the actors were cramming in every significant line within a limited timeframe. And while each line is important, when every single one is treated with equal weight, none actually stand out. The production felt more like a film than an immersive theatre experience and it didn’t provoke or challenge the audience in any significant way.
That said, the production did remind me of how impactful and powerful the play is. It’s a piece that revolutionised theatre and that deeply touches the history of our society, and I’m grateful to have seen it in its fullness and respect. I’m not suggesting that I could, in this or even in my next life, make it better. But I can’t help but wonder what my takeaway would have been if the dialogue had slowed down, repeating or emphasising key phrases. What if the pacing allowed for deeper reflection on the themes? Silence and pauses speak, too. What if an object, like Mama’s flower, had been used as a central motif? Could more have been conveyed through a simple prompt, sound or body language rather than a perfect recreation of a realistic room? Could they have played with the opening poem differently? Would the audience appreciate a minimalist approach?
The interpretative space of a dramatic text is, by its very nature, much broader and the range of interpretive choices is much freer than perhaps any other literary form. However, as Ullrichová writes, this freedom of interpretation is not without limits and should not be mistaken for arbitrariness. The interpreter’s freedom is always bound by the framework of the text itself.
The writer Milan Kundera, in his essay You’re Not in Your Own House Here, My Dear Fellow, touches on this issue of arbitrariness in interpretation: if a work of art originates from an individual and their uniqueness, it is logical that this unique individual, the author, has full rights over what they have created. I can see where he’s coming from, and especially in his context where he was extremely strict about translation of his works from one language to another. Do we actually have the right to grasp a text, dissect it, extract what we think makes sense, and present it to the world?
Ullrichová beautifully states that interpretation is the presence of memory. Without memory, we become mankurts—slaves whose memories have been deliberately destroyed in a brutal way, seemingly free but in fact lost. She advises that, even in minor cases of textual modification, a good rule of thumb is to ask yourself why each line is in the text before cutting it. The only true proof of respect for the text is the desire to understand it fully.