Two Actresses in the Jamaican “Star System”
“The mask habitually
worn by the actor is likely to become his true face”
-Plato
An interesting perspective from the Greek philosopher
(educated, by the way, largely on Egyptian principles, but that’s another
column). In the unofficial “arts hierarchy” actors, and stage actors in
particular, enjoy a peculiar place – they’re nowhere as obscure or overlooked
as writers or painters are, but they generally pale in comparison to music artistes.
Dancers, at least those in the dancehall sphere, have carved out a special
space for themselves, even as their counterparts in the more formal dance world
remain virtual unknowns.
In Jamaica, there’s a star system, but its vastly different
from what obtains in the self-obsessed US. Of course, comparisons are slightly
unfair, given the scale and also the fact that, apart from the ongoing
“cross-over” of celebrity screen actors to the stage, most career stage actors
toil in relative obscurity.
Whatever the visual medium, Jamaicans like their stars
accessible; entourages, publicity hacks and other retinue are for the music
biz. It’s a common occurrence for random members of the public to acknowledge
and even engage the best-known and most popular “celebrities” - even the music stars - in light
conversation, a virtually unheard of (or maybe bygone) practice in the US.
Its against that backdrop that I engage Deon Silvera in conversation outside a busy
shopping club in a Kingston suburb.
Silvera, of a quiet yet curious demeanour, ready to engage, is one of
the best known Jamaican stage actresses and has also done television and big
screen work, though her talents contributed to one such, the Denzel Washington
vehicle, “The Mighty Quinn” ended up almost toally on the cutting room floor.
Her portrayals span the gamut but are also littered with the kind of scrappy,
boisterous urban women that represent today’s
social reality.
Our dialogue is frequently interrupted by stares, pointing
fingers and the inevitable questions and greetings from passers-by, all of
which she receives and responds to in good graces. “I don’t get tired of it”
she remarks at on stage. “You know this is how our people operate, and in that
way, its good for us as the actors to get that recognition.”
Contrast that with the attitude of Andrea Wright, a one-time
teacher who is now known across the island as “Delcita” the name of a character
(a type, really, but more on that in a bit) that she palys. Matter fact,
Wright’s situation lends some credence to Plato’s quote, given that while
Delcita is universally known, saying the name Andrea Wright might get you a
chorus of “who?” This nickname culture is prevalent in Jamaica, and a generally
throughout the Caribbean as well as the American South, tracing its roots back
to slavery when families were broken up and original African names were
discarded in favour of Westernized ones
and other less favourable descriptives.
Ironically, the Delcita character is played in the
“blackface” style that also emerged in the slave period in the US and spread to
the UK and her colonies. This “coon” depiction would be roundly booed in amny
parts of the US today, but here, coupled with a healthy dose of Jamaican
sayings and contrived comic situations, has made Delcita the #1 draw in
Jamaican theatre. Lines stretch around corners wherever her productions play
and women and even young girls speak of her as an “empowering” figure.
All of which has led Wright to disdain the charges
(including my own) that she is deliberately upholding a negative stereotype.
Speaking on a local radio show, Wright defiantly says “Delcita is a way that we
can make people laugh and even dish out practical advice from the stage. I
don’t have time to go back in no history book and fret ‘bout no coon or
naything like that. The people not putting that on them head.”
This is largely true, notwithstanding the fact that several
callers to the show did voice their displeasure with and opposition to the
blackface representation and its transmitted values of loudness, ugliness and
ignorance. Delcita is big news and big business, maybe not Hollywood-big, but
certainly big enough nationally and among Jamaicans overseas, many of whom
still have the rural-based “dunce-head” stereotypes still close at hand – and
to heart.
But it was a new original, "Hey You" that reconfirmed for us that she is deserving of much wider recognition. Even in the largely informal confines of the Puls8 complex, with the models having already strutted their stuff, and emcee/Pulse head honcho Kingsley Cooper having vacated the raised platform, Barnes established that level of connection with the audience that only the select few quality artistes consistently do. And the song, a catchy yet subtle mid-tempo, came in like a breeze after the slow-burn of the Adele cover and the other pop numbers (JLo's Dont Bring Me Roses). Nickeisha has been steadily putting her all into the new material, which of course John Public will be more fully exposed to over the coming months.
