Terique Jarrett plays Franklin
(Picture: Marc Brenner)A functioning, onstage swimming pool is possibly the least audacious thing in American writer Jeremy O. Harris’s exploration of power, value and worth. The story of a young, black artist seduced by an older, rich, white collector in his modernist Bel Air lair is billed and staged as a melodrama. It features a three-woman gospel choir, racially charged gay sex play and acres of nudity.
There’s a riveting, exposing performance from relative newcomer Terique Jarrett as the artist Franklin, and an insouciantly creepy turn from Claes Bang, the Danish star of the BBC’s Dracula, as his sugar daddy, Andre. Franklin starts off calling Andre “sir” then progresses to calling him “daddy”. Trust me, it gets weirder from there.
Director Danya Taymor takes us on a gleeful killing spree of sacred cows and sensitivities, until the end when Harris veers into indulgence. Even the pool becomes an overworked metaphor as a place of birth, baptism or drowning.
At first the dynamics look clear, the central relationship an emblem of historic sexual, racial and artistic exploitation. Franklin creates “soft sculptures” of black infants: Andre, whose wealth is unexplained, buys them, and him.
The superb gospel singers are backup for Franklin’s sermonising mother Zora (fiery Sharlene Whyte), reminding him of his religious, fatherless past. But he has a chorus of his own in the shape of Ionna Kimbook and John McCrea – both very funny - as fellow LA wannabes whose morals are as skimpy as their swimwear.
Who really has the upper hand and what’s really going on? Harris playfully dangles possibilities and delights in wrong-footing us. There are jarring juxtapositions of affection and violence, larky celebrations and emotional crises. The first act ends with a crowd-pleasing rendition of George Michael’s Father Figure performed by Bang and the singers in the pool while Franklin undergoes a dramatic identity crisis. It’s no accident that Andre shares his name with an artist once accused of murder. Or that Franklin is plagued by that theatrical irritant, the incoming mobile call.
Undoubtedly, the play is partly about the infantilising effect of being the hot new thing, suddenly given everything you want. Although Harris began “Daddy” – the inverted commas turn out to be significant – years ago, this version clearly reflects the fact that his first professionally produced script, 2018’s Slave Play, won a record 12 Tony nominations, leading to film-writing gigs and a producing job on cult TV hit Euphoria.
“Daddy” was due to open at the Almeida in 2020. There was and is no plan I know of to stage Slave Play here. So there’s a slight sense we’re getting the difficult second album before seeing the smash hit: the echo rather than the Big Bang. Nonetheless this is a thrilling, jolting experience, boldly conceived and staged, adorned by fine performances.
