‘Bad Kreyòl’ Review: Dueling Cultural Identities Make for a Weighty Comedy

Concluding a four-show run as one of Signature Theater’s writers-in-residence, Dominique Morisseau looks beyond her usual American petri dish in the comic and contemplative “Bad Kreyòl.” It’s the second world premiere of her seven-year tenure (stretched from five because of the Covid pandemic) with the company, which has staged her explorations of 1940s jazz (“Paradise Blue”), campus race relations and slavery (“Confederates”) and the aftershocks of revolutionary movements (“Sunset Baby”).

In “Bad Kreyòl,” Morisseau follows a Haitian American woman’s trip to the island, where she intends to work with nongovernmental organizations and reconnect with her cousin following their grandmother’s death. Directed by Tiffany Nichole Greene, this co-production with Manhattan Theater Club deftly tackles diasporic identity, as well as personal, familial and national duty.

If that sounds like a serious undertaking, it never feels that way here. Morisseau is incredibly skilled at weaving her ideas into compelling human dramas, and “Bad Kreyòl” finds the writer at her funniest, operating in the digestible vacation comedy genre.

When Simone (Kelly McCreary) arrives at the upscale Port-au-Prince boutique her cousin Gigi owns, her appearance is instantly assessed. Gigi (Pascale Armand) is a tough-love type, and their odd couple dynamic represents most of the play’s humor and duel of national mentalities. As opposed to Simone’s relaxed athleisure, Gigi is impeccably dressed in colorful fabrics (costumes by Haydee Zelideth). She is the picture of the hard-working Haitian who can’t understand why her American cousin lets things like personal happiness get in the way of a lucrative career in finance.

Another point of contention: whether Pita (Jude Tibeau), their family’s longtime housekeeper, is more like their slave. Born into poverty, he was essentially sold to Gigi’s family in exchange for room and board through an underground Haitian practice called restavèk. Simone says it violates international labor laws, Gigi compares it to American foster care.

In this case, Gigi says, it’s worked out for the best: In their homophobic country, the flamboyant Pita, who is gay, also finds protection in their home. Simone, of course, lives out a liberal fantasy by nudging him to join a queer activism group, an idea the fiercely protective Gigi knows could bring harm. But, again, Morisseau balances this gravity by making Pita the play’s beating heart, and often the source of its funniest lines.