By David Cote
Copyright observer
Awkwardly Eurocentric to say about a work steeped in Yoruba religion, but The Brothers Size got me thinking of medieval philosophy. The prologue juxtaposes car mechanic Ogun Size (André Holland), up early and working hard in the driveway, and his kid sibling Oshoosi (Alani Ilongwe), lying in bed, dreaming. Right off, Tarell Alvin McCraney draws the ancient distinction between the vita activa and the vita contemplativa: the active versus contemplative life. Given that McCraney chooses names of Yoruba gods, there’s also a touch of the mystery play here: humans reenacting divine narratives.
Not to overload references, but we’re also in the realm of American drama that maps the mythic to ordinary lives; see Thornton Wilder’s village metaphysics in Our Town or Tony Kushner’s seraphic heralds visiting AIDS patients. The Brothers Size may be more modest in scale—it was developed and presented 20 years ago when the author was in graduate school—but the tale remains quite moving, especially in this muscular, musical remount. Since I first caught the play as part of a trilogy called The Brother/Sister Plays at the Public Theater in 2009, I’ve admired McCraney’s heart-forward vision (he also cowrote the screenplay for Moonlight). This revival originated last year at L.A.’s Geffen Playhouse, where the playwright is artistic director.
A fable of family loyalty and freedom with queer undertones, the play is written with a keen sense of ritual that abstracts the (modern-ish) details of its characters’ lives. The stage is bare but for a circle of white sand that the trickster Elegba (Malcolm Mays) pours around the periphery. From the outset, this magical O binds the brothers in their complex love-hate rivalry. Ogun is forever reminding Oshoosi of his recent stint in prison, displaying bitter disappointment and his sacrifice. Oshoosi finds Ogun’s work deadening and humiliating, and resents the constant criticism. Elegba drops in on the brothers now and then; he was in prison with Oshoosi, and it’s strongly implied they were lovers while incarcerated.
McCraney’s world is wondrously fluid and porous; the “real” world melts into dream zones within seconds, as both brothers experience disturbing dreams about their fraying bonds. Actually, it’s not entirely a story of breakup; the arc shows how lives intertwined since the early death of their mother can practice devotion by letting go. In the script, characters narrate their actions along with their dialogue, dissolving barriers between performers and audience. Just as we’re constantly passing our molecules through each other, the characters’ inner and outer worlds are always in flux:
Ogun Size Enters
Calling for his brother
Oshoosi Size!
Waking up, coming in
Why you calling?
Mirroring the spoken stage directions, the actors swirl in a constant state of movement, co-directed by McCraney and Bijan Sheibani, choreographed by Juel D. Lane, and accompanied by percussionist Munir Zakee, who juggles an array of pulse-raising instruments. Holland, a magnificent presence who evokes deep sympathy, whose velvety voice caresses the ear, takes on a harder shell as the frustrated Ogun. (Having played Elegba in 2009, Holland knows his way around its lyric shimmies.) As restless Oshoosi, Ilongwe has a bratty yet yearning charisma; he’s a wounded prince on a quest for his true self. Mays ties it all together as sexy and dangerous Elegba, the catalyst who tempts Oshoosi and makes him newly vulnerable to racist cops.
If you set aside the Yoruba cosmology aspect of The Brothers Size, the 90-minute work doesn’t necessarily rewrite domestic or social drama. Two Black, working-class men orphaned at an early age in a semi-real Louisiana have grown apart but ultimately achieve a kind of union. It’s the ‘how’ of McCraney’s art that elevates the tropes into a poetic symphony of near-tragedy and spiritual release. Along with my pompous medieval musings above, I remembered that, during the pandemic, we longed for theater that was communal, primal, plugging into our shared humanity. I’m grateful to McCraney and his fellow artists for answering that prayer.
The Brothers Size | 1hr 30mins. No intermission. | The Shed | 212-967-7555 | Click Here For Tickets
More in performing arts
In ‘The Butterfly Lovers,’ Hong Kong Ballet’s Radical Reimaginings Take Flight
From Broadway Classics to European Avant-Garde, New York’s Fall Programming Runs the Gamut
The 2025/26 Harkness Mainstage Series Is Amplifying Women’s Artistry Across Genres
Jim Newman Opens Up About ‘Mamma Mia!,’ Mentors and the Joys of Owning the Stage
