As someone who grew up in the church — and is no longer an active member of a congregation — the themes in York Walker’s play, “Covenant,” land close to home. Speaking of the Black church specifically, I know my elders have always meant well, but coming of age in an environment where prayer is the answer to all problems and rumors and perceptions of fellow members of the congregation were expected to guide my path in my life was a no-go. (And yes, I will have elder family members upset when they read these words).
Running through May 31 at the Goodman, “Covenant” is a suspenseful Southern Gothic ghost story. But the production doesn’t pull from actual ghosts for its spookiness — it uses religion and spirituality.
The show opens with prayer, setting the tone thematically for what will eventually unfold. The stage design by Ryan Emens centers a Black church in the Deep South in the early 1900s. After a prayer by Avery, played by Jaeda LaVonne, we meet Johnny “Honeycomb” James, deftly portrayed by Debo Balogun. Honeycomb and Avery were childhood friends. Now, we see the parallels between the two as Avery’s prayer is interrupted by Honeycomb, who in the same scene plays the guitar — which would be taboo to do in a church during this time period.
Honeycomb has returned home after years on the road, and he arrives with unexplained and unexpected talent. The young boy who struggled with a stutter and had a reputation for being a terrible guitarist has come home a smooth-talking young man with a new rep as the best blues musician in the region.
For many in the audience at this point, it feels like we see where the show is headed: The legend of Robert Johnson is a clear parallel. In a span of only seven months, the renowned blues musician from the Mississippi Delta infamously crafted 29 studio recordings in the 1930s that influenced some of the greatest musicians of all times — and sparked the legend that his talent came from a deal with the devil.
Walker’s script did an excellent job of using the familiar setup, then skirting and crafting a story that felt fresh and provided a twist at the end that I didn’t see coming. The direction from Malkia Stampley was clever. There is a spooky scene with some stage magic and misdirection that also caught me by surprise and fostered a well-earned audible gasp from the audience.
The heart of this story lives in the margins between good and evil. It’s an exploration into spirituality and the creepiness comes from the ominous and ever-present reminder that if there is a God, then there is a devil. This leads to scenes with demons and possessions as well as prayer and song. It is well-balanced and thought-provoking.
The dynamic of Avery’s mother, Mama, portrayed by Anji White (whose performance here was just as impressive as her recent role in “Fat Ham,” a character who is the polar opposite of the one she plays here), feels familiar. In the eyes of the church, the blues, and most secular music, was viewed as the devil’s music. When Avery wants to leave with Honeycomb to sing in Chicago, her mother objects, creating a deep conflict.
What makes this production work is the writing that adds layers to that conflict and keeps the audience on its toes by adding juicy twists and sinister subplots. There are stories within the story and elements of nonlinear storytelling that lead up to a conclusion that was satisfying and not overly predictable.
The acting here was strong, especially Ashli René Funches, as the lovesick Ruthie, and Baloguin’s portrayal of the blues prodigy Honeycomb. But this production feels like an ensemble effort — everyone from actors to the sound and lighting designers, to the writer and director duo — and they pulled it off together successfully.
The story is fueled by secrets and the fear of rumors. As I left the theater, the words of Mama, words I’ve heard plenty in real life, echoed in my mind, “If you ain’t right with God, nothing will be right.”