Studio Theatre’s manufacturing, directed by Taylor Reynolds, begins a bit sluggishly, as Ijames and the forged lay down the mechanics of the Shakespearean plot, reborn as a turbulent afternoon at a yard barbecue. Every humorous twist, although, feeds the comedian momentum, resulting in a dynamite end and, let’s simply say, the contemplation of what great use Shakespeare may need made from a karaoke machine.
Nonetheless, you don’t have to like “Hamlet” to get so much out of “Fats Ham” (even when it pains me to have to supply this caveat about certainly one of Western drama’s biggest performs). Ijames is shrewd concerning the linkage, offering a couple of verbatim soliloquies to fulfill “Hamlet” followers but managing to make the script his personal distinctive investigation of fathers and sons. Hamlet, as an example, traverses an inexorably tragic path out of affection for his father; Juicy skirts tragedy partially as a result of he’s so not like his unlovable father.
Ijames fills out Juicy’s world with six different vitally alive characters, and one lifeless one. They collect for a celebration of the all-too-abrupt marriage ceremony of Tedra and Rev, following the jail slaying of Juicy’s father, Pap, himself a assassin. Pap’s ghost (additionally performed by Reid, in a white go well with that lights up like a Christmas tree) materializes to induce the reluctant Juicy to avenge him, as one other household — modeled on Polonius and his progeny — joins the festivities: overbearing Rabby (Kelli Blackwell) and her grown kids, Larry (Matthew Elijah Webb) and Opal (Gaelyn D. Smith).
The playwright posits Juicy as a Hamlet-adjacent image of Gen Z ambivalence — a teenager adrift within the tradition, with solely imprecise job plans and a reluctance to take care of his household’s toxicity. Egocentric Tedra, performed by Gary as a girl desperately clinging to her fading desirability, is thoughtlessly merciless about Juicy’s future: She blows his tuition cash on a toilet renovation for Rev.
But Juicy can’t let go. He’s psychologically frozen. Sporting a T-shirt with “Mama’s Boy” spelled out in rhinestones, he’s referred to as on to sing on the get together. The music he chooses is about feeling alone and misplaced: Radiohead’s “Creep.” “However I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo,” he sings, in a small voice. “What the hell am I doing right here? I don’t belong right here.”
Ijames writes that sense of disconnection into the personalities of Juicy’s friends: Larry, a Marine with no love of the navy, and Opal, a lesbian compelled by Rabby to put on a frilly get together gown that drives her to distraction. (One other outfit of that selection, and Opal may be propelled into Ophelia-like insanity.) They’re sure by frustration, by a necessity to dump the burdens of their mother and father’ misdeeds and expectations — a breaking free that Webb’s fabulous Larry in the end carries off with type.
All of the performances radiate type, even that of Juicy’s sidekick, Tio (Thomas Walter Booker), a goofy riff on Horatio. The design features, too, are glorious, with Jean Kim conjuring a sensible patio set, strung with get together lights and furnished with grill and garden chairs, on which the story of Rev’s comeuppance performs out. Danielle Preston’s costumes add a little bit of sparkle, when the playwright deliciously invitations it.
Gibson does a swell job with the direct-address speeches lifted from the Elizabethan grasp. I appreciated the sly nods to him, however possibly most of all Juicy’s retort to Rev after he boasts about his spicy prep work for the ribs. “Ah,” Juicy replies, “there’s the rub.” To be or to not be that intelligent.
Fats Ham, by James Ijames. Directed by Taylor Reynolds. Set, Jean Kim; costumes, Danielle Preston; lighting, Minjoo Kim; sound and music, Sinan Refik Zafar. About 90 minutes. By Dec. 17 at Studio Theatre, 1501 14th St. NW. studiotheatre.org.