A Brontosaurus and a Woolly Mammoth taking up residence among the mid-century modern trappings of a middle-class New Jersey household will now and forever make a theatrical impact – that, at least, hasn’t changed since playwright Thornton Wilder’s days – but so much else has, not least of all the ability of The Skin of Our Teeth, a seminal post-modern avant-garde winner of the 1943 Pulitzer Prize, to beguile merely on the strength of the post-modern avant-gardeness of it all.Lincoln Center Theater’s major new revival of the play, directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz, with additional material by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and the tireless efforts of an exemplary cast, does, in fact, afford some newfound vitality for a work so often more admired than loved.
An exercise in endurance – for the cast, for the audience – The Skin of Our Teeth long ago passed along the novelty of its time-tripping, allegorical flourishes to subsequent (and, frankly, less laborious) heirs, from Caryl Churchill to Tony Kushner to the Wachowskis, so any attempt to meet and rise above the play’s inherent challenges would seem to require a vision, maybe a ruthlessness and certainly a firm grasp of the play’s continued reason for being.Blain-Cruz does in fact display occasional moments of just those things, and so this Skin of Our Teeth, in fleeting sequences, lifts itself from the play’s traditional slog.With a Black cast, loving references to bell hooks and allusions to youthful rage that seem as ferociously essential as the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, Blain-Cruz reshapes Wilder’s universe just enough to encompass the Black experience, placing it firmly within the sweep of Wilder’s epoch-spanning tragicomic history of humanity.As always, The Skin of
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