That Bad, Bad "Hattitude"

By Carol Chastang
SeeingBlack.com Theater Critic

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Mabel's credo is wisdom to live by—a law of life that everyone, from the squeegee man to the leader of the free world, could use.

She lays it down while proudly showing off her sumptuously brimmed Sunday hat in "Crowns" at Arena Stage in Washington through August 29.

"Never touch the hat! Admire it from a distance, honey," Mabel demands. It's all about respect. "Like when you're inside the pew, and someone behind you gets up, and knocks your hat. And after all that time I spent fixing it, so that it sits just right. So now, I duck when I hear someone behind me." That's hat queen rule number two, says Mabel. "Don't let people knock the hat!"

In a special return engagement, "Crowns" is an energized musical chronicle of Black church ladies and the hats they love. Last year the play, adapted from the book by photographer Michael Cunningham and Craig Marberry, was the surprise hit of Arena Stage's season. The hat, as one of the ladies says, seems "to take on a life of its own."

"Crowns" is beautifully written, and its stories of growing up, opening the heart and learning to love are told in spoken word, driving gospel music and dance. The superb cast, six women—Desire DuBose, Tina Fabrique, Gail Grate, Karan Kendrick, Bernadine Mitchell and Jacqueline Williams—and, one man, John Steven Crowley, make it all look so easy.

The staging is simple yet elegant. We know we're in church, and at stage right and left are what resemble hat-racks to heaven. Throughout the musical (110 minutes, no intermission, but you really wouldn't want to get up anyway), the women pick up a new hat for each scene. And the hats—some with blue and green peacock feathers, some with fat black polka dots, some covering the face in pale white netting—do seem to take on a life of their own as the women treat each one with reverence.

Director/playwright Regina Taylor does an amazing job of keeping the play's energy taut—whether the cast is dancing and singing, or mourning at a gravesite.

Yolanda, a young hip-hop girl from Brooklyn, is sent to South Carolina to live with her grandmother after her brother is murdered. Yolanda's story is the thread around which all the other tales from the church women are woven.

"You can flirt with a fan in your hand. You can flirt holding a cigarette too. But a woman can really flirt with a hat," says Jeanette. She then does a measured 360-degree turn, slowly lowering her head under the billowing brim, while stealing a glance at an imaginary admirer.

The women are at their funniest when they talk about their hats as the established priority. "I'd leave my children behind before I'd leave my hat," says one of the hat ladies. "My children know their way home."

The women talk about "hattitude," or the correct way to wear the hat to "carry it off." Not everyone, they say, can or should wear a hat unless they possess the appropriate bearing and confidence. Another hat queen rule.

Representing all the fathers, lovers, brothers and husbands in the women's lives, Crowley portrays the men as caring, capable, strong, and sometimes put-upon.

During his turn as the Preacher, Crowley is married to the Imelda Marcos of the hat ladies. "You don't need any more hats—you only have one head," he complains to her. Playing the good father while wearing a bowler, he exudes warmth as he expresses his admiration for his daughter's flapper hat.

Adorning the head, says Yolanda at the end of "Crowns," is an African tradition. The women who wear the hats make a bold, life-affirming statement: "I am a Queen." At a time when the world is torn by conflict and uncertainty, "Crowns" is a two-hour oasis of hope and joy. We are reminded of our magnificence, and our spirits are renewed.

"Crowns" runs through August 29, 2004 at Arena Stage, 1101 Sixth Street SW, Washington, D.C., (202) 488-3300.

-- August 6, 2004

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