‘Jet Fuel’ @ Bishop Arts Theatre Center
—Rickey Wax
I love it when the audience gets to be part of the play! I got to be an audience member at the Olympic games, and didn’t even have to fly out of the country.
So, here’s the thing: when a play called Jet Fuel comes along, you know you’re in for a ride. Maybe not quite a rollercoaster, but at least one of those airport shuttles that’s a bit too fast. And playwright Amy Evans’ latest offering? Well, buckle up—because this play doesn’t just taxi down the runway. It takes off, leaving both characters and audience trying to keep up with the dizzying pace. And like a jet, it’s loud and a little bumpy. But in the end, it gets you to where you need to be—someplace emotional, unexpected, and very, very human.
Based on the memoir of South African Olympic gold medalist Caster Semenya, this story represents a larger conversation about the policing of women’s bodies in sports. Semenya’s gender was questioned, tested, and publicly debated after she dominated in women’s track and field. Sound familiar? Probably because recently, Algerian boxer Imane Khelif was placed in a similar situation in the world of boxing. It reveals the uncomfortable truth about how the sports world often enforces binary gender standards.
Under the sensitive and astute direction of Tiana Kaye Blair, the show takes place in 2016 at the Rio summer Olympic games. We meet our protagonist Mel Jackson (Shanthany Wilkerson) sharing playful banter with her teammate/friend Grace Kennedy (Monica Jones). First things first, Grace hangs the American flag in their window—torn, stained, and altered—which serves as a visceral symbol of the disillusionment Grace feels about the ongoing injustice against Black people in the United States.
The girls are thrilled to be at the Olympic games representing team U.S.A, but a hesitant Mel opts to stay behind and doom scroll on social media, while an adventurous Grace wants to go exploring. It seems the Rio games began before Mel even arrived—and she is the subject of much controversy. (I don’t blame her for wanting to stay put). As if she isn’t already feeling discouraged, she is frequently subjected to urine tests which seems customary for an Olympic athlete right—or embarrassing? Nevertheless, Mel decides to mingle in the Olympic village, but immediately becomes the subject of stares and snarky remarks amongst the women athletes from different countries. Lucky for her, she has the backing of her teammates—or at least she thinks she does.
It’s now time for their first race and the racers are at their mark. As the gun sounds, we do not hear running, we here what is known as step or stepping—synchronized stomps, claps, and chants that create an electrifying atmosphere, embodying the power, discipline, and unity that racing demands. The sharp, precise movements of the performers mirror the intensity and focus required of elite athletes.
Step is traditionally associated with Black fraternity and sorority traditions of solidarity and pride, and this was echoed in the way the racers moved together in unison before breaking into their individual sprints. It was as if the race itself was being translated into a kind of dance, each step representing not only the physical exertion but the mental and emotional battle that each runner faces. The rhythm of step becomes a kind of clock, ticking away as the race progresses, with the tempo increasing as the tension mounts—a brilliant artistic choice.
After the races are complete, Mel Jackson is the last one standing to represent team U.S.A. The pressure and tension come to a head when a scuffle breaks out between Mel and another athlete in the lunchroom. Are Mel’s Olympic dreams shattered based on a lapse in judgment? And there’s more: she also comes under fire from one of her own disqualified teammates and her female anatomy is called into question. Mel begins packing her bags, and we wait to see if she will run away from her fears— or face them on the track.
Blair’s direction is thoughtful and precise, allowing the actresses room to breathe while maintaining a tight emotional core throughout. The minimalist set design (Rodney Dobbs)—composed of Olympic rings hanging from the ceiling and two beds that morph into different spaces—allow the performances to shine while emphasizing the constant, oppressive nature of public scrutiny. That’s all they are, just athletes expected to show up and do their job— at least in the public’s eye. The use of a projector (Natalie Rose Mabry, Camron Ware, Brian Do) represents a cell phone as a visual piece of storytelling that underscores how deeply intertwined technology and social media have become with our lives. The projections serve as more than just set dressing; they symbolize the omnipresent force of outside opinions and digital interactions, and the relentless pull of the online world on the characters’ lives.
Shanthany Wilkerson’s portrayal of Mel is nothing short of phenomenal. In one moment, she’s a force of nature, barreling through the scenes with fierce determination. In the next, she allows Mel’s insecurities and fears to seep through, revealing the layers beneath her tough exterior. Through a quiet strength, Monica Jones delivers a spectacular performance as Grace Kennedy, Mel’s steadfast yet conflicted friend. Together, Wilkerson and Jones share a powerful onstage dynamic, with each bringing out the best in each other. Their scenes together crackle with tension, but also with an undercurrent of love and shared history that makes their relationship feel authentic and fully realized.
Alli Crabtree channels a chilling ruthlessness that defines one of the main protagonists, Elena Petruschenkov. (Hated this character!) Her cold, piercing gaze and clipped, venomous dialogue, spoken in a very defined Russian accent, leave no doubt that she is willing to crush anyone in her path. Overall, the ensemble of talented actresses works masterfully, like a well-oiled machine.
Jet Fuel takes flight at Bishop Arts Theatre Center. It’s a bold and necessary exploration of identity, resilience, and the price of being extraordinary in a world that demands conformity. Amy Evans has written a show that burns with a rare intensity, delivering a theatrical experience that is both deeply moving and socially resonant—making this a must-see show.
WHEN: September 12-September 22, 2024
WHERE: 215 S Tyler St, Dallas
WEB: bishopartstheatre.org
