American Son at Masquerade Theatre: A Knock that Echoes Through America

by Laura Duffy

On Friday evening, I was privileged to witness the opening night performance of American Son at Masquerade Theatre. Written by Christopher Demos-Brown, and directed in this case by Connor Twigg, the play tells the story of a separated biracial couple trapped in the lobby of a police station as they await news of their son, who has gone missing following a traffic stop incident. 

To say that this production is timely would be a vast understatement. Since the play opened on Broadway in 2018, police brutality towards Black citizens has only become more common – particularly following the murder of George Floyd, which had not yet occurred when this play was first produced. Additionally, our country now faces the threat of Immigrations and Customs Enforcement’s unchecked power, which has already claimed the lives of United States citizens of all races. Watching the plot of American Son unfold felt, in this moment, like an inevitability. 

This brings me back to the question I ask myself at every production I attend: Why now? Our local, regional, and national culture has always been shaped by the art that we create. We strive to capture a moment in time, to synthesize our feelings about the world with the hope that what we create will connect with someone who shares our perspective, or perhaps comes to understand it for the first time. To me, that is why the arts matter.

So why American Son? In his director’s note, Twigg says, “Ultimately American Son is more than a reflection of our challenges; It’s an invitation to grow and connect. Through empathy and understanding, we can find common ground and move toward a more compassionate future.” 

Do I think that this production achieves that goal? Generally, yes. American Son is a story that invites conversation, tugs at our shared humanity, and reflects the stories of so many real families in this country. It serves as an entry point for audiences to begin this incredibly complex but vital conversation, and that is more necessary than ever. As a mid-20s, upper-middle-class white woman, I acknowledge that this review comes from a specific perspective. There are undoubtedly a myriad of perspectives which would add value and nuance to a discussion of this body of work. All I can do is offer mine, and encourage anyone reading this to engage with the production from your own background. Go with a friend or family member whose background differs from yours, and discuss afterwards what impact the story had on you both. 

Leading the production is Carla Cornick as Kendra Ellis-Connor, the distraught mother of Jamal (a character who the play centers around, but who never appears on stage). Watching Cornick’s performance felt akin to cheering on a marathon runner from the sidelines – her emotional journey ran the gamut from confusion, to anger, to soul-crushing despair, and left me (and the entire audience, I’d imagine) wondering, how does she do this every night? Stories like this one require an impressive amount of vulnerability and emotional strength from its actors, and Cornick met and exceeded those requirements.

Tommy Balne portrayed her estranged husband, FBI agent Scott Connor. From the moment he stepped on stage, the story felt like it was in his control – between being a white man and having connections to law enforcement, his privilege was palpable. It was quite interesting, then, to watch as he slowly but surely lost that control over the course of 90 minutes, eventually becoming just as emotionally volatile as he initially criticizes Kendra for being. Balne expertly navigated this journey, creating what I thought was an especially nuanced performance.

William Reid was naive and frustratingly obedient as Officer Paul Larkin, the newbie cop who Kendra first encounters at the police station. Annoyingly, but not surprisingly, Larkin is immediately more amenable and willing to offer up information about Jamal once Scott arrives. Characters like this one can be difficult for an actor to navigate – how do you portray someone so unlikable, yet still find a way to relate to them? Reid was able to balance the distasteful aspects of his character with a dose of humor and innocence that made Larkin feel much more real (and all the more misguided).

For the first half of the play, everyone is waiting on John Stokes, the lieutenant who will supposedly provide further information about Jamal. Richard Kingston fit the bill nicely for this imposing, no-nonsense officer. He has a deep, gravelly voice that immediately commanded the space, and was particularly terrifying upon entry as he berated Scott for losing his temper after being sent recent footage wherein a policeman fires shots at a fleeing suspect.

This moment in the show is followed by a fairly extensive physical fight between Balne, Reid, and Kingston, which was coordinated by Sean McGarry. I was impressed by its realism and complexity, especially since the audience was in such close proximity to the actors. Kudos to McGarry and the actors for their work – I could tell that it took a lot of rehearsal time to execute.

This moment, among many others, would have been an intense experience for the audience in any size theater, but Masquerade’s intimate blackbox space never fails to make me feel as though I truly am part of the story. In this case, it was almost as though the audience members were fellow occupants of the station waiting room, perhaps awaiting news of our own. 

The experience of sharing such an intimate space with the actors was amplified by Robert Schaeffer’s Set Construction and Georgia DeFrank’s Scenic Painting. The set featured a simple yet realistic design – although the story takes place in Miami, I’m sure there are identical-looking police stations around the country, which once again reiterated the universality of the story. The lighting was done by Balne (multitalented!), and was especially effective in creating the thunderstorm which rumbled outside for the duration of the story.

Twigg’s direction, aided by Assistant Direction from Kim Clayborn, made full use of the space, and often prioritized realism over audience sightlines, which I didn’t mind. The movement felt more natural, as the actors weren’t worried about constantly cheating out, which would have been hard to do anyway with the audience sitting on three sides of the room. There are no blackouts in this production – each scene rolls directly into the next, which can be a challenge if a director is not able to coherently dissect the script for the actors. Luckily, this was not the case! I thought that Twigg and Clayborn did a nice job making sure the tension ebbed and flowed, especially within a script that carries so much emotionally intense text. My only small critique was that phones were used quite often throughout the story, and since the audience and the actors were in such close quarters, I could often tell that the screens were black. This broke the illusion that they were taking phone calls or streaming videos.

Costumes by Rebecca Sisley were simple, but effective. I was impressed by the police uniform she sourced for Reid – it looked especially realistic. Juliana Gonzalez-Najera ran a flawless show as the production’s stage manager, ensuring that all cues and transitions ran smoothly. 

Without giving away its conclusion, American Son shook me to my core, and definitely hit harder given the current circumstances within our country. If you are able, I would highly recommend making the trip to see it. Especially at this moment in history, it is more important than ever to witness stories like this one, and work towards a future where it is finally less relevant.

Remaining performances include Thursday, February 12th at 7:30 pm (which is Pay What You Can), Friday, February 13th at 8:00 pm (which will have a talkback following the performance), Saturday, February 14th at 2:00 pm, and Saturday, February 14th at 8:00 pm. Visit https://www.masqueradetheatre.org/show-experiences/americanson2026 for tickets and more information.