Interview with Carl Cofield

About Langston Hughes and “Harlem” Langston Hughes was a writer and activist born in Joplin, Missouri, in 1902. He later moved to New York City where he became one of the premiere voices of the Harlem Renaissance—an eruption of Black art and thought during the 1920s. His work is best described as “jazz poetry,” because similarly to jazz music it encompasses a variety of forms, rhythms, and sounds. Hughes’s writings grew popular during the Harlem Renaissance—an era Hughes famously described as when “the negro was in vogue.” The poem “Harlem” was initially included in Hughes’s first major poetry collection, Montage of a Dream Deferred . Published in 1951, Montage of a Dream Deferred captures the plight of the Black American after World War II. Promised a chance at the “American Dream” upon their return home, Black Americans joined the armed forces and fought overseas in large numbers. But the tangible effects of that dream—jobs, educational opportunities, financial gain—were never made real, and the promises were left unfulfilled. In “Harlem,” Langston Hughes reflects on the disappointment and anxiety many Black Americans experienced during this time. In the poem, “dream” represents the empty promise of equity for the working-class Black Americans in Harlem, and by extension, in America. Throughout the poem, Hughes uses a device known as the rhetorical question: a question that isn’t meant to be answered but to provoke thought. These questions ask the reader to consider just how much the Black working-class community will endure. Consider the building frustration—and danger—implied by the verbs in the poem: dry up, fester, run, stink, crust and sugar over, sag…EXPLODE. The poem isn’t only present in her title; Lorraine Hansberry uses the poem “Harlem” as an epigraph for A Raisin in the Sun . An epigraph is a quote from another author to help readers understand the nature of the new piece. Epigraphs can come from poetry, prose, religious text, historical documents, and even music! Hansberry understood the importance of all art forms, especially just how much Langston Hughes’s work transcends a specific time period. On April 5, 1958, Hughes granted Lorraine Hansberry permission to use “Harlem” to help frame A Raisin in the Sun in its written and published form. Hansberry uses the epigraph “Harlem” to help audiences understand some of the challenges the Youngers face throughout the play—similar to those Hughes wrote about when he composed “Harlem” in 1951. While watching A Raisin in the Sun , consider how each character may embody a different stanza. Does Mama “dry up” and let go of her dreams of social mobility? Is Ruth letting it “fester like a sore” and harboring her anger? Or does Walter Lee let it “crust and sugar over,” forgetting the injustices of society? This poem is a call to action. Consider how you handle your own dreams. —ASHLEY M. THOMAS

An Interview with Director Carl Cofield

Carl Cofield, the director leading Yale Rep’s production of A Raisin in the Sun, spoke with production co-dramaturgs Eric M. Glover and Ashley M. Thomas about his journey into theater, his directing approach for twenty-first century audiences, and the legacy of Lorraine Hansberry’s modern masterwork.

ASHLEY M. THOMAS: You have a fascinating a career. You’re a director, a professor, and the Associate Artistic Director for the Classical Theatre of Harlem. But exactly how did you get started?

CARL COFIELD: I started as an actor. My uncle was an actor, so I followed him to the theater when I was a little boy and just fell in love with it. The power that live theater could bring to an audience is something that left an indelible impression on my childhood memory. I fell in love with the ritual of theater—actors and audience together breathing the same air, really sharing an experience. I went to the University of Miami for my undergraduate degree. Most of the actors whom I admired had all started in theater, so I had dreams of joining the Negro Ensemble Company when I moved to New York. Unfortunately, when I arrived, the landscape of theater had changed. I worked for many regional theaters like Arena Stage in Washington, D.C.; McCarter Theatre Center in New Jersey; and Berkeley Repertory Theatre in California. I had a successful career. While working at regional theaters, I realized having a theater in your community is one of the primary things that shapes it. So a few years ago, I decided to make a change into directing because institution-building is a big part of my mission. I followed the track record of a longdistinguished group of artistic directors whom I admired. As a matter of fact, James Bundy, the artistic director of Yale Rep, was one of them. Soon after, I went to Columbia University School of the Arts, where I did their directing concentration, and I’ve been making theater ever since.

ERIC M. GLOVER: You directed Classical Theatre of Harlem’s 2018 production of Sophocles’s Antigone and directed Yale Rep’s 2019 WILL POWER! production of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. What is it about ancient Greek drama and English Renaissance drama that enlightens you when you direct the plays of August Wilson (who worked with Lloyd Richards at Yale Rep) and productions of A Raisin in the Sun? CC: I am drawn to plays that effect black and brown people directly and that ask big existential questions about humanity. When I directed Antigone, I could not help but think of twelve-year-old Tamir Rice, who was murdered by the police. Tamir’s fourteen-year-old sister wanted to comfort her dying brother, but the police restrained her. It was one of the big guiding points into how I approached the play. A twenty-first-century black and brown audience can get behind a heroic woman’s story of making sure the police respect her brother’s body. The common denominator between Hansberry, Shakespeare, Sophocles, and Wilson is love, surprisingly. I investigate their plays with a lens of, “What’s the love? How is the love catapulting us into action, and how is the love suppressing us from action?” In our political climate now, we are still there. There are people for whom if you say you are on one side of an argument, you are in direct conflict with the other. I use plays as a way for all of us to come together for two hours in the same room, do the ritual of theater that has existed for thousands of years, and foster a dialogue that is much needed.

AMT: Do you remember the first time you read A Raisin in the Sun? What was your first reaction?

CC: It took me until either high school or undergraduate to read it, but my first experience was when I saw Sidney Poitier and Ruby Dee in the film version. When I saw the film, a light went off. I was already familiar with the Langston Hughes poem, “Harlem,” from which the play’s title is derived, but when I really saw Sidney Poitier embody the role of Walter Lee and the family dynamic—it was an awakening. There was always Hamlet in Hamlet and Tom in Glass Menagerie for my classmates, but I always felt left out of the picture until I was exposed to these rich characters in A Raisin in the Sun. It was a game changer. Walter Lee in my humble opinion is without question one of the greatest roles in the Western canon.

AMT: How did you come to work on this production of A Raisin in the Sun with Yale Repertory Theatre?

CC: I’ve had the good fortune of working with Yale Repertory Theatre before. James Bundy approached me about directing A Raisin in the Sun, and before he could even finish, I said yes. It’s such a tremendous honor.