Review: Tarell Alvin McCraney's The Brothers Size, in Top Form 18 Years Later

Sometimes you see the original production of a play and spend the following years wondering if it really was that good, or if you’ve just mythologized it in your memory. Then you see a revival that proves your initial feelings were correct all along. Such is the case with the Shed’s electric mounting of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s just plain excellent The Brothers Size.

When The Brothers Size premiered in 2007, McCraney, then a third year at Yale Drama, was heralded as a spiritual successor to August Wilson. Since then, McCraney has more than fulfilled that early promise with exceptional works like the Tony-nominated play Choir Boy and the film Moonlight, for which he won an Oscar. Yet The Brothers Size, the centerpiece of his trilogy The Brother/Sister Plays, is a thrilling reminder of McCraney’s theatrical beginnings. It’s as powerful now as it was then, and proves once again that he is a singular artist.

A contemporary re-entry drama that riffs on Yoruba spirituality, The Brothers Size focuses on the dynamic between the older Ogun Size (André Holland), a mechanic who just opened his own garage, and the younger Oshoosi Size (Alani iLongwe), who just got out of prison. Bonded by their tough upbringing in the Louisiana bayou, Ogun wants his brother to put down roots, hiring him at the auto shop. Oshoosi, an aimless hedonist, dreams of pussy and travel, while avoiding the Uncle Tom cops who locked him up.

Those goals seem easy to attain when Elegba (Malcolm Mays), Oshoosi’s best friend from prison, shows up. Named for the trickster deity in Yoruba culture, Elegba gives Oshoosi a free car, and Oshoosi trusts him implicitly, not questioning why there happens to be a duffle bag in the trunk. Ogun, of course, sees through the charade.

McCraney is co-directing this New York engagement based on a staging created by original director Bijan Sheibani, who not only helmed the play last year at the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles, but mounted the work at the Young Vic in London in 2007 and 2018. Both iLongwe and Mays were in the Geffen iteration, while Holland, a longtime McCraney collaborator, played Elegba at the Public Theater in 2009.

Given everyone’s connection to the material, there is an uncommon level of familiarity that is apparent throughout. That the performances are lived in is no surprise, but they are so deep that it’s impossible not to be moved. There is a palpable fraternal bond between Holland and iLongwe, the former imbuing Ogun with the protective energy of a parent who is easily manipulated by his charge’s mischievous smile. Holland embodies that old idiom “I’m not mad, just disappointed,” and his late-stage realizations are simply gutting. Mays’s Elegba is every bit the puckish imp he’s named after, luring iLongwe’s loveably naïve Oshoosi into an unexpected trap.

The acting is so vibrant that the surrounding environs—Ogun’s garage, Oshoosi’s prison cell, the glade in which he and Elegba get physical on a fateful night—spring vividly to life before our eyes, when all that’s present are three human bodies inside a circle of white powder. Suzu Sakai’s spartan scenic design allows the performers to be fully present within the story, aided by textured lighting (Adam Honoré), personalized choreography (Juel D. Lane), and musical underscoring (Stan Mathabane’s compositions for a variety of West African instruments are played live by Munir Zakee). Dede Ayite costumes the actors in muted variations on the same outfit, a clear commentary on the individuality and sameness within the brothers and their tormenter.

This production does make some trade-offs, namely muting the homoerotic overtones in Oshoosi and Elegba’s relationship and placing more of a focus on the brothers themselves. In doing so, this becomes a staging that is filled with love and hope, even in the darkest moments, which makes the ending all the more devastating (Holland has a particular line delivery that hit me right in the heart and I haven’t been able to shake it since).

The Brothers Size remains filled with urgency, reaffirming McCraney’s place in the American theatrical landscape and reminding us why his voice first demanded attention. The play has lost none of its power as it has become a contemporary classic, and this production will linger just as long in our memories as the original, if not longer.