August Wilson's Century Cycle -- Jitney

In Jitney, August Wilson displays a weary concision not present in his earlier works. The last play in the Century Cycle to be completed, Jitney contains the familiar Wilson themes -- men trying to become more than they are and pushing against forces that appear fixed on denying them. Noticeably absent are the mystic undercurrents, the lengthy monologues and the narrative complexity that made his earlier works much more epic in vision and execution. Jitney is a simple and direct story of "urban renewal," displacement, resistance and loss. For some, it is equal to others in the Cycle. But to others, myself include, it feels like a comparatively minor work, strong but delivering few fresh insights.

Wilson confines Jitney's action to the dispatch office where the drivers receive calls for service. The constant entrances and exits of the jitney drivers keeps the action in the shop connected to an off-stage world. Toward the end of the first scene, Youngblood enters to report that a neighborhood resident, Cigar Annie, has been evicted and is standing in the street cursing mankind and flashing drivers. The woman never makes an appearance but seems to represent a kind of woman in Wilson's universe, one who has been so exploited and diminished by those around her that she's left without fear. As Doub says, "Ain't nothing wrong with Cigar Annie. They had her down in Mayview two or three times. They figure anybody cuss out God and don't care who's listening got to be crazy. They found out she got more sense than they do. That's why they let her go. She raising up her dress cause that's all anybody ever wanted from her since she was twelve years old. She say if that's all you want ... here it is."

Jitney's struggling couple Rena and Youngblood (Darnell) provide little of the romantic dynamism found in Wilson's other works. The tension between the two, Rena's insistence that Youngblood be a better provider for their child, is worsened by Turnbo's tireless tattling. While the destructive gossip is an hoary theatrical staple (The Children's Hour), it seems to me a device that's beneath Wilson's creative mettle and too meager to carry so much narrative weight.