REVIEW: King James (Round House Theatre)
Guys, it’s my time. As the person who lives in the razor-thin overlap of the Venn diagram of theatre fans and (Men’s) sports enjoyers, I’ve been looking forward to the DC premiere of King James for months. Rajiv Joseph’s platonic dramedy seeks to capture the friendship of two Clevelanders, told over the epicness of LeBron James’ 2-decade NBA career. As someone who has had several male friendships be made via sports but nonetheless ended after years of camaraderie, this piece shows up in my life at an interesting moment. Can Round House close out their season with a sharp two-hander, or do they airball?
Book
It’s apparently much harder to shoot a ball of paper into a bin than it looks. As the show opens, Matt, a bartender with nobody to serve, is hooping around with a crumpled newspaper when he is interrupted by another man, Shaun. Shaun is here at the bar for a reason: a mutual friend of theirs has set up an exchange. Nothing crazy: Matt needs to unload the rest of his Cleveland Cavaliers season tickets and Shaun has promised himself that if he ever “made it” in life, he would attend a game. Matt is white and from a nuclear middle-class family, and Shaun is Black, from the city and struggling with 3 jobs and an ill mother; what brings them together is a shared love of the Cavs. (Even if Matt’s first impression is to highball the hell out of the tickets).
Four scenes make up the entirety of the play, told over two acts, each at a pivotal moment in LeBron’s career: 2004 (his rookie season), 2010 (his controversial move to Miami), 2014 (his return to Cleveland), and 2016 (Cleveland’s 3-1 comeback championship). The most shocking element was how natural all of Joseph’s dialogue feels. In buddy-oriented two-handers, it’s crucial to establish a natural literary chemistry immediately, or the gumbo tastes off, but in James nearly every interaction between the two feels organic and flows effortlessly. (Some of the ball trivia was off, though, but I won’t dock points for it.) Interestingly, there’s no proper “conflict” that drives things along. The play is essentially a fly-on-the-wall look at this one friendship. However, several mini conflicts do appear, to varying levels of fruition and impact. Matt wants to open Cleveland’s most exclusive bar, and Shaun wants to be a writer, for example. How each of those play out I won’t spoil, but there are others that get in the way such as Shaun’s oddly close relationship with Matt’s mom and a sudden racial reckoning that threatens to turn the show upside down. Much like men in real life, the show struggles to maintain vulnerability within this relationship—but notably, Shaun is more effective with embracing his than Matt. Perhaps Joseph’s entire point is this. I saw a lot of my own friendships in this piece, for better or for worse, including ones that I no longer have due specifically to the others not being able to cope with vulnerability among friends of a decade-plus. The end result is therefore slightly unresolved in its emotional maturity, strange when the ebbs and flows of this relationship was so complex and familiar for most of its runtime. But from this, one can see where friendships can go right, and where they can go so wrong; there’s no “I” in team, but there is “bro” in “LeBron James”. 9/10
Acting
I’m sure the dynamic between Blake Morris (Shaun) and Gregory Perri (Matt) will only strengthen by the time this closes later this month. It’s a shame one can’t watch a first-show last-show juxtaposition, actually — because their chemistry is pretty good, a little shaky at times, but could be very special by the end of the run. It helps that Joseph’s dialogue is so fluid, of course, but the pair are more than capable performers on their own. Though, it’s Morris’ (hey!) more physical turn that impresses me the most, as he imbues his rawer characterization with movement in ways that Perri’s Matt does not. 7/10
Production
I will admit, I was not blown away by Luke Cantarella’s design of the wine bar that sets the scene for the entire first act. Though decorated, it missed elements of life. My concerns were mollified though when the Round House techs rotated it at halftime to reveal a lovingly detailed antique shop where Act II takes place, which has little shout outs to the environments described earlier in the play. Danielle Preston’s geniously dated costumes are a treat, too. From a Motorola Razr and the baggy pants-over-timbs look in 2004 to the slimmer aesthetics of the mid-2010s, she’s got the time jumps fashionably locked in. 9/10
Viz
Round House has been marketing this as if you don’t need to know anything about basketball to be into the show. To this, I agree…mostly. If you don’t have the experience from being in (cis, straight) male sports fandom, know the terms and intensity that comes with it, especially from this type of relationship, you miss tons of important subtext. It’s like seeing something at GALA Hispanic Theatre, whose shows are always en español: you can enjoy the show perfectly fine due to their English subtitles, but knowing Spanish unlocks several more angles of understanding. I like their simple key art of two buddies cheering LeBron from the courtside seats, though, so at least non-fans know what they’re getting into. 7/10
Verdict
King James is a well-crafted look into a friendship centered around sports mythos, that ages the more it’s performed. 30/40
