Displaying items by tag: Darren Jones

Collaboraction  Theatre Company could not have chosen a more resonant inaugural production for its new House of Belonging than Trial in the Delta: The Murder of Emmett Till. In this sleek, in-the-round studio in Humboldt Park, the company inaugurates its new home by opening an old wound—one that America has never fully allowed to heal. The result is not merely a staging of history, but an act of communal witnessing, one that insists the past is not past.

Co-adapted by G. Riley Mills and Willie Round and co-directed by Anthony Moseley and Dana N. Anderson, Trial in the Delta transforms the 1955 courtroom proceedings in Sumner, Mississippi, into a visceral live docudrama. Actors emerge, take the stand, and deliver testimony drawn from the long-buried trial transcript of Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam, the men who kidnapped and murdered 14-year-old Emmett Till. In this immersive setting, spectators are not allowed the comfort of distance. You are seated inside the machinery of injustice.

The production’s most devastating power lies in its restraint. This is not melodrama; it is documentation made theatrical. When NK Gutiérrez steps forward as Mamie Till-Bradley, the room seems to recalibrate its breathing. Her presence is not performative grief but moral force. Mamie’s insistence on truth—her refusal to look away, her demand that the world see what was done to her son—becomes the spiritual engine of the evening. Darren Jones’s Mose Wright, Mysun Aja Wade’s Willie Reed and Donald Fitzdarryl’s Chester Miller, embody the perilous bravery of Black witnesses testifying in a Jim Crow courtroom, where truth itself was an act of defiance.

The ensemble functions as a grim chorus of American roles: judges, clerks, journalists, sheriffs, defendants, and bystanders. Richard Alan Baiker’s Judge Curtis Swango carries the chilly authority of a system that pretends neutrality while protecting white supremacy. Tyler Burke and Matt Miles, as Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam, avoid caricature; their ordinariness is the horror. Evil here is not monstrous but banal, upheld by procedure and custom. That banality is the production’s sharpest blade.

Prosecutor Gerald Chatham (John Henry Roberts, center) holds a photo of Emmett Till as he asks Till’s murderers Roy Bryant (Tyler Burke, left ) and J.W. Milam (Matt Miles, right) if they recognize their victim, as Till’s mother Mamie Bradley (NK Gutiérrez) looks on, in Collaboraction's Trial in the Delta: The Murder of Emmett Till. 

Emmy Weldon’s set and Levi Wilkins’s lighting make elegant use of Collaboraction’s new 99-seat flexible studio, shaping the room into a courtroom that feels both provisional and eternal—anywhere, anytime. Shawn Wallace’s original music hums beneath the proceedings like a low current of grief and warning, while Warren Levon’s sound design places the audience inside a sonic environment of testimony, tension, and aftermath. The design team’s work never distracts; it quietly conspires with the text to tighten the emotional vise.

What distinguishes this staging from earlier iterations is how fully the new space is activated as a moral arena. The reserved jury seating—occupied by audience members—does more than gesture at interactivity. It implicates. You are reminded, without theatrical gimmickry, that verdicts are rendered not only in courtrooms but in communities, institutions, and histories. The post-show “Crucial Conversation” deepens that charge, extending the production beyond performance into dialogue—an extension of Collaboraction’s KEDA methodology in action.
KEDA—Knowledge, Empathy, Dialogue, and Action—frames the company’s belief that theatre should not end with reflection, but move audiences toward change.

Opening the House of Belonging with Trial in the Delta is a statement of values. This is not a theater christened with spectacle or escapism, but with reckoning. In a cultural moment eager to repackage or blunt the edges of history, Collaboraction insists on confrontation. The question the production leaves behind is not simply what happened in 1955, but what we have allowed to keep happening since.

Trial in the Delta: The Murder of Emmett Till does not offer catharsis. It offers clarity. It reminds us that justice delayed is not just justice denied—it is justice rehearsed in different forms, across different bodies, in different decades. In Collaboraction’s new home, the walls are fresh, the tech is state-of-the-art, and the future feels open. But the story told on opening night is a reminder that belonging, in America, has always been contested—and that the work of making it real is unfinished.Top of Form

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: Extended through March 29th!

Where: Kimball Arts Center, 1757 N. Kimball Ave

Running time: under two hours, including a short Crucial Conversation after every performance

Tickets: $25 - $55.00 (10% discount for groups of 10 or more)

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The start of the civil rights movement was not Rosa Parks refusal to leave her seat on a bus. The civil rights movement started when the photo of 14-year-old Emmett Till, laying in his coffin beaten beyond recognition was graphically published on the cover of Jet Magazine for the world to bear witness. He was the victim of a heinous attack by brothers Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam.

“Trial in the Delta” is a reenactment of the trial held at the Tallahatchie County courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi on September 23, 1955. This reenactment took 2 hours thanks to the laborious job of paring down 5 days of actual court transcripts into a cohesive 2-hour production. The adaptation by G. Riley Mills and Willie Round was sharp and concise making the arguments of both sides extremely clear.

It had to be difficult directing a production where everyone knows the outcome and keep it fresh and new, yet this is exactly what the directing team of Dana N. Anderson and Anthony Moseley accomplished. They made the audience spectators to this miscarriage of justice. They never took the easy road of playing on emotions. They went for words that were spoken they went for intent. They were aided by a spectacular cast.

Although their backs were to the audience most of the time, the body language of JW Milam (Matt Miles) and Roy Bryant (Tyler Burke) spoke volumes. There were times I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Prosecutor Gerald Chatham (Andy Luther) pushed and pleaded knowing it was all in vain while Defense Atty. JJ Breland (Steve Silver) played verbal gymnastics with the witnesses knowing he had the upper hand. All the witnesses that took the stand had different perspectives. I felt the fear of Moses Wright (Darren Jones) as he pointed. Undertaker Chester Miller (Lyle Miller) was dignified as his profession required. The testimony that gripped me was Carolyn Bryant (Maddy Brown).  It was alarming. The work that Carolyn Bryant put into that story and the way Maddie Brown brought that story to life made me pinch myself. I realized this is a tactic that’s been around forever, and it still works. The way Bryant/Brown weaponized her tears broke my heart. It was evident this trial was over, and these men would be free. Mamie Bradley (Kayla Franklin) remained stoic thru all the proceeding even when was her turn to take the stand. Her last speech is powerful.

Looking at the program for this production, I noticed there are major people in the theatre community associated with this production and it shows. DuSable Museum, while not my favorite place to see a play, made this production work. The set is a maple wood courtroom. To the left of the witness box are 12 empty seats. The Jury…..12 White men.  Whenever the jury came or left the courtroom, we see a projection of 12 white men entering of leaving and we hear their footsteps. There are maple bannisters separating the Attorneys from the spectators.

Witnesses are seated throughout the audience and as they are called walk up to the witness stand and are sworn in.

This production is an example of how systemic racism works and as such would not be shown in Florida. Governor Ron DeSantis has signed into law the Stop-Woke (Wrongs to Our Kids and Employees) Act, which prohibits educational institutions and businesses from teaching students and employees anything that would cause anyone to feel guilt, anguish or any form of psychological distress due to their race, color, sex or national origin. I’m sure this production was not created to cause any undo harm or guilt. This is not only African American history, but also American History.

When: Through February 19th - 7 p.m. Thursday-Saturday, 3 p.m. Sunday

Where: DuSable Black History Museum and Education Center, 740 E. 56th Pl.

Tickets: $30-$55

Info: Collaboraction.org