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Fairview had yet to start, but as I walked down the aisle, Roc Lee’s sound design—nostalgic sitcom tunes—sashayed through the air, setting the tone. As I settled in, listening to the theme of Good Times, I observed how set designer Misha Kachman devised the cross-section of a single-family home: living room and parts of a pastel-hued dining room/kitchen that suggested a distinctly African American middle-class suburbia. The cultural and class particularity represented by the space was strengthened by the oversized family portrait that gazed at the audience from the living room wall, a photo that conjured church directory or school yearbook formality. The photograph intrigued me. Something seemed amiss. My eyes were drawn to the contours that traced the bodies in the portrait. I assessed the image with suspicion. Something is going to happen with that picture . . . but what?
Prior to this time, I had managed—through chance and will—to avoid details about the Pulitzer-winning Fairview. While I was cognizant of its acclaim, I heeded warnings to sidestep the script and bypass field discussions until I had a chance to see it. Yet and still, two details proved impossible to evade: 1) Fairview wrestles with race, and 2) the play begets a buzzworthy surprise. Subsequently, I was keenly aware of my own positionality and evaluative impulses as an active spectator—an awareness that was augmented by the play’s design. Accordingly, I should forewarn readers that in service of sufficient critical engagement, this review divulges significant spoilers. For those who would like to experience the intentions of Fairview fully, I suggest returning to this review once they have seen or read...