‘A Freeky Introduction’ Review: Pleasure Principles
NSangou Njikam’s latest offering is an ode to the erotic and the divine, set to winking R&B and hip-hop songs, in a new production by Atlantic Theater Company.In “A Freeky Introduction,” the writer-creator, NSangou Njikam plays a quasi-deity, M.C., holy hedonist named Freeky Dee. He is a poet delivering sybaritic couplets above the thrum of R&B tunes. He is a missionary preaching the gospel of freakdom: “All of us are aftershocks of the Divine orgasm.” (The Big Bang, Freeky argues, was an explosive one.) The result is a sort of hip-hop hallelujah — a work of interactive theater that’s funny and familiar in its embrace of Black culture, yet flattened at times by a lack of specificity.Freeky Dee is also a storyteller. He opens the show, now at Atlantic Stage 2 in Manhattan, with the tale of an eagle destined to fly, but born into a nest of bullying buzzards — a not-so-subtle allegory about one species that must resist the self-appointed superiority of another. Accompanied by DJ Monday Blue onstage, Freeky Dee is the sole performer who acts out these scenes, including his pursuit of a fine lady named Liberty (“French, with a splash of Africa” and wearing “a crown that looked like sun rays coming out her forehead” — you get it).Njikam, who wrote and starred in the lively and semi-autobiographical “Syncing Ink,” is a fan of salacious reinterpretations. Under Dennis A. Allen II’s well-paced direction for this Atlantic Theater Company production, he delivers them with the charisma of a folkloric trickster. DJ Monday Blue’s sounds and samples lend a rock-steady groove — a feast of R&B and hip-hop staples. Whenever Freeky Dee sets up for a spoken-word set, the standing bass and sax lines of “Brother to the Night,” from the movie “Love Jones,” ring out. It’s a knowing wink — sonic choices that affirm Black cultural memory as its own special canon.Audience participation also becomes a form of communion for Njikam and Blue. At times, we’re ordered to recite an affirmation-laden “Mirror Song” or do kegel exercises in our seats. The show is always edging the sacred up against the sexual, which set designer Jason Ardizzone-West reinforces, adorning square columns with divine contradiction: half evoke West and North African etchings of figures kneeling in spiritual offering; while the other lean into smut — peach and eggplant emojis, thirst drops, figures on their knees for a different purpose.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More