As a Black Panther and the first woman to ever grace the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorists list, there’s no denying activist Assata Shakur lived a pretty dramatic life. (Being Tupac’s godmother is in fact the least interesting thing about her.) In Assata Taught Me, playwright and director Kalungi Ssebandeke imagines her in her later years in Cuban exile, teaching Black Revolution to a naïve youngster whom she is trying to cure of the American Dream. This colourful and dynamic revival of the show at Riverside Studios has a lot to recommend it, even if it doesn’t always hang perfectly together.
Fanuco and Assata first meet when she rescues the young law student from a gang of street thugs in Havana. Recognising her as a native English speaker, Fanuco begs Assata to teach him the ways of American language and culture, so he can head to the promised land (Miami). Reluctant at first, Assata takes him on, but her unorthodox lessons focus more on identity and revolution than verbs and nouns. Fanuco is entranced by her, but their relationship isn’t always an easy one, especially as he learns more about what brought her to Cuba.
There are plenty of moments when Assata Taught Me is really compelling, particularly in scenes where Ssebandeke draws out the irrepressible ferocity of Assata. Her impassioned speeches on African identity, freedom, and grief are inspiring. They are brought to life by a commanding and captivating whole-body performance from Susan Lawson-Reynolds.
Assata Taught Me works best when it’s at its most theatrical – the monologues, the shared songs and the dancing (from movement director Gabrielle Nimo) are engaging and powerful. It’s lively and dynamic, matched by a colourful, warm, multi-patterned set from Bolu Dairo.
Despite these satisfying pieces, it doesn’t always feel like the whole jigsaw fits neatly together. The conceit of English lessons being the thing that brings Fanuco and Assata together is a fairly thin one, especially when she immediately turns it into a platform for sermonising. (Interesting though said sermons are, it’s hard to know why Fanuco thinks this is helping his American ambitions.)
Narrative devices do some heavy lifting, from Assata’s expositional chats with her dead grandmother (“You remember Fred Hampton?”) to Fanuco’s inconsistent grip on the English language (he confuses “farm” and “firm” but somehow knows “rhetoric” and “ubiquitous”). And for all the interesting ideas raised around identity and freedom, other themes feel underexplored. While Assata’s hatred for America is well-defined, her love for Cuba is left unprobed – a notable omission given the country’s own complex relationship with revolution and power.
Sometimes the stitches of the narrative feel exposed, but taken as a whole piece, Assata Taught Me is a compelling story. It captures the fire and the fury of one indomitable woman and the movement she represents, and is a fitting part of her legacy.
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