Photo by Kevin Ondarza

Sara (Nai Fairweather) is unafraid of battle in Dominique Morisseau’s powerful play Confederates.

By AARON KRAUSE

Slavery’s chains still bind in unexpected ways, and Dominique Morisseau’s bold, nuanced dramedy Confederates urges us to unshackle ourselves—and one another—from their lingering grip.

New City Players’ (NCP) riveting professional production of this funny and moving piece runs through July 27. The venue is Island City Stage’s intimate black box theater in Wilton Manors.

Five talented cast members—Rita Cole, Nai Fairweather, Denzel McCausland, Gemma Berg, and Toddra Brunson—fully disappear into their roles. They deliver layered performances with precision and clarity.

In her script’s introduction, Morisseau writes:
“There are hills and valleys in this play… lots of places where naturalism betrays you and we are straight up in satire. The bigger you are willing to go… the more earned and powerful the moments will be that hit on the ground.”

Fortunately, NCP’s cast embraces the full tonal range. The performers make big comedic choices as well as restrained, grounded ones. The result is a production that uses humor not as relief, but as a delivery system for serious, uncomfortable truths. When we’re laughing, we’re open—and that’s when the harder questions land. They may be difficult questions, but we must face them in 2025. Undoubtedly, it is a divisive time when confrontation often replaces polite conversation. In addition, trust in government is at an all-time low, and acts of hatred and violence happen with frightening frequency. These troubled times scream for an eye-opening and heart-opening play such as Confederates.

Under Maha McCain’s precise direction, the roughly 98-minute show (presented without intermission) unfolds at a cinematic pace. It seamlessly transports us between two timelines. In one, we meet Sara. She is an enslaved woman on a Southern plantation during the Civil War. She risks everything to pass Confederate secrets to her brother, a Union soldier.

In the other, more than a century later, Sandra is a tenured professor at an elite northern university. She confronts a racist image taped to her office door. This jarring image, while potentially offensive to some, serves as a stark and effective metaphor. It expresses how the U.S. has long exploited Black bodies for white comfort and survival.

As the story shifts between past and present, Confederates draws powerful, resonant parallels. While Sara is literally enslaved, Sandra wrestles with the ghosts and invisible shackles of institutional racism, sexism, and academic gatekeeping—forces that continue to shape Black lives in ways both overt and insidious.

Morisseau doesn’t just write history plays—she writes human ones. Her characters are vivid, flawed, funny, and utterly alive. A MacArthur “Genius” and Tony-nominated playwright, Morisseau crafts dialogue that sparkles with liveliness, wit, and burns with urgency.

Like Richard Strand’s Civil War comedy Ben Butler, in which characters spar with language, Confederates uses satire, zingers, and farce to expose the absurdity of unconscious bias and systemic oppression.

McCain’s direction deftly manages tonal and temporal shifts. Scenes transition fluidly via simple lighting cues (designed by Annabel Herrera) and minimal scenic elements, supported by Michael McClain’s flexible design. The space—part cabin, part classroom—suggests both timelines without anchoring us too firmly in either.

A projected image of young Black people walking through snow acts as a visual refrain, quietly echoing the play’s yearning for freedom.

That yearning is palpable in Fairweather’s fiery performance as Sara. With blazing eyes, proud posture, and unshakable resolve, Fairweather conveys Sara’s grit and vulnerability in equal measure. Her Sara is strong, ambitious, funny, and fully human—a woman ahead of her time, fighting for her future and her family.

Fairweather shares affecting chemistry with McCausland, who plays Abner, Sara’s brother and a Union soldier. Their sibling bond feels real and deeply rooted—loving, combative, protective. McCausland brings quiet strength to Abner, the cautious older brother trying to keep his idealistic sister from getting them both killed.

Equally compelling is Sara’s relationship with Missy Sue, the white daughter of the plantation master and Sara’s childhood friend. Berg plays her with charm, buoyancy, and inner conflict. Their intimacy is evident from the start: a moment where Missy Sue rests her head in Sara’s lap radiates tenderness. A slow, deliberate kiss deepens their connection, layered with affection, memory, and suppressed desire. Yet Berg also conveys Missy Sue’s turmoil—torn between love for Sara and loyalty to her father, the man who claims ownership of her friend.

In the modern timeline, Berg transforms into Candice, a chatty student whose fast-talking openness often reads as cluelessness. It’s a sharp contrast—and a performance walking a fine line between comic relief and unintentional offense.

McCausland likewise shifts gears as Malik, a high-achieving, buttoned-up student whose surface-level deference masks deeper tension. His posture leans forward in engagement, but his interactions with Sandra bristle with unspoken judgments. These moments lay bare the play’s exploration of intra-Black conflict—complex, rarely discussed, and seldom staged with such clarity.

As Sandra, Cole brings polish, intellect, and simmering emotion. When we first meet her, she’s all poise—smiling, confident, professional, her red lipstick matching her outfit. But as pressure mounts, cracks show. Pain, anger, and betrayal flash across her face. Cole plays Sandra’s breakdown with intensity but never breaks her character’s core—this is a woman who has mastered survival through control, and watching her lose that control is devastating.

One of the play’s most quietly intense scenes unfolds between Sandra and a fellow Black professor, Jade (Brunson). Their polite conversation curdles into tension, then something colder.

Brunson portrays Jade with initial affability but matches Cole’s intensity as the action grows tenser. McCain skillfully stages such confrontations, positioning performers nearly nose to nose. This tension echoes more than 100 years earlier on the plantation, where Sara clashes with Luanne (also played by Brunson), a fellow slave granted privileges Sara has not. Brunson portrays Luanne with intense emotion and a desperate need to cling to her small measure of power.

These performers deserve praise not only for compelling performances but also for cheetah-fast costume changes. Blink, and you’ll miss them. Rest assured, the costumes are appropriate for each character and time period (designer Casey Sacco).

Confederates is a layered, complex, timely play that gives us plenty to think and talk about. Morisseau, rightly regarded as one of the most vital voices in contemporary American theater, does not pretend to offer easy answers. Certainly, the piece is a conversation starter—and an invitation to take action. For its part, NCP delivers a production that entertains, enlightens, and empowers.

IF YOU GO

WHAT: New City Players’ production of Dominique Morisseau’s dramedy, Confederates
WHEN: Through July 27
WHERE: Island City Stage’s black box theater, 2304 N. Dixie Hwy, Wilton Manors
TICKETS: $40-$45

In addition to 13 performances spread over 3 weekends, New City Players has planned some engaging post-show events that take audiences Beyond the Stage:

• Weekend Wine Downs! A casual and structured time of reflection, conversation, and libations after Friday and Saturday night shows, where patrons discuss the play’s questions, themes, and ideas with each other and members of the creative team (July 18, 19, 25, 26).

• Sunday Talkbacks! For those wanting to go deeper into the process of bringing a contemporary play to life, join the cast and creative team after Sunday performances for interactive talkbacks (July 13, 20, 27).

Photo by Kevin Ondarza

Sandra (Rita Cole) confronts microaggressions in modern day America in Confederates.