"A Good Boy" Amplifies Hidden Voices

Hazel Edmond, Yolanda Rabun, Jeffrey Blair Cornell, Jade Arnold, and Serena Ebhardt in A Good Boy. Photo by HuthPhoto, courtesy of PlayMakers Repertory Company.

Some stories get told over and over again. Others, however, rarely get heard. But, Hidden Voices, a non-profit group, brings those often-ignored stories front and center. Currently, the group is telling the story of what life can look like when a loved one is on death row. Its intimate musical, A Good Boy, which features a book and lyrics by Lynden Harris and music by Marc Callahan and AJ Layague, takes a close look at four people who’ve come to see their loved ones in prison. The production, presented by PlayMakers Repertory Company and featuring smooth direction by Kathryn Hunter-Williams, is both moving and thought-provoking and more than achieves its goal of making marginalized voices heard.

The story dives immediately into the lives of its central characters. We meet devoted mother and nurse, Mary (Hazel Edmon) as she readies herself to make her regular visit to see her son. And, when we first see the weathered, jaded prison guard, Bullock (Jeffrey Blair Cornell), he’s already in action, working his second exhausting shift in a row. The immediacy with which the plot unfolds, as well as the intimate staging, places viewers right into the action and thrum of the prison waiting room. 

Within the confines of the small-but-cozy Kenan Theatre, Derrick Ivey’s scenic design makes “Crossroads Correctional,” a Midwest prison, feel very real and alive. Viewers can feel the tension and stress as Bullock forces visitors through metal detectors and barriers, as the phone rings incessantly, and as the characters stare at the never-stopping clock on the wall, its red digital numbers a constant indicator of the precious time that is ticking away.

Soon, Mary and Bullock are joined by the vivacious Yolanda (Yolanda Rabun), a fast-talking, joke-cracking visitor who bursts onto the stage in a flurry of action and sound. Like Mary, she is a mother, there to see her son. But, unlike Mary, this is her first visit in a long time, and there’s a distinct desperation to her need to see him, to speak with him. Still, none of that changes the fact that there’s been an upheaval in the prison that day and that visiting hours are delayed for an unknown amount of time, maybe for the entire day. 

As Yolanda settles in, trying to quell her panic, two new characters enter the scene. There’s the polished, professional Bradley (Jade Arnold), who has traveled to meet his uncle after conversing with him via letters, and the sad-faced Heather (Serena Ebhardt), who has come to pick up her brother’s belongings following his execution. As all of these characters slowly reveal the details of their lives and situations, it becomes clear that every person here has a story, a need, and an objective, and that, disparate as those may be, they’re connected by a common thread.

That thread, in this case, is the unending bureaucracy and hands-tied approach of the prison system, a system in which they and their loved ones have become ensnared. In this world of rules and procedure, the pressure feels inescapable, both to the characters and the audience. The close staging, the intense dialogue, and Bullock’s ever-watchful eyes all combine to create a pressure-cooker experience that deeply affects the viewer and firmly aligns them with the visiting characters and their plights. The only relief to this affecting pressure comes through song. Though the songs themselves often feature heavy subject matter and character-revealing details, they feel like a small release from the tension, all while still making the characters more human and sympathetic.

Through this difficult-but-important ride, strong performances aid in emotional engagement. Cornell is gruff, tough, and utterly believable as Bullock and, despite his character’s imperfections, his constant stage presence and intensity draw the viewer’s eye to him throughout. With Cornell, there is always something interesting simmering beneath the surface, and his characters are made all the more interesting for it. Edmond’s Mary is his strong, sensible counterbalance, bringing a welcoming softness and a quiet strength to her portrayal. Rabun bustles with energy and injects life and humor into the dark material, while still giving subtle insight into the veiled pain her character carries. Arnold’s portrayal of Bradley is serious and no-nonsense, but, like Rabun, he knows when to hint at his character’s emotional depth and inner life. Ebhardt’s Heather, on the other hand, wears her heart on her sleeve. She delivers a gritty, pain-filled performance, yet her character and her delivery are not without humor. The rich characterization brought about by Harris’ script and the actors’ deftness make the story all the more impactful.

Though there is no true resolution here, the story leaves the viewer contemplative, as well as more informed and aware. A Good Boy does feel very much like a piece that’s designed to educate, but that doesn’t make the characters’ pain or the truth behind their stories any less important. Ultimately, this is a powerful production that has the potential to change lives and incite action.