Review: ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ at the Goodman is near perfection

August Wilson was a night owl.

He'd hang out in bars and diners until the wee hours of the morning, his friend, author and University of Washington professor Charles Johnson told me a few years ago when I was writing a story about Wilson’s 15 years living in Seattle.

One story from Johnson stood out: One night, at an IHOP around 3 a.m., the duo witnessed an impromptu rap battle that led to a fistfight. Johnson remembers his inclination to flee — but Wilson, cool as cucumber, watched the altercation, then jotted notes.

That scene plays in the back of my mind as I watch “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” on stage at the Goodman Theatre until May 3. Wilson was renowned for his way with words and language — a trait many, including his wife, Constanza Romero, who told me this directly, attribute to his tendency to sit in public and people watch. He was able to capture the natural essence of conversation and embed it into the dialogue of his plays. The truth and honesty that result are something to behold.

Those traits are on full display in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” which unfolds in 1920s Chicago. Prolific blues singer Ma Rainey has a recording session in a studio. She’s an hour late, but her band is on time. While her manager and the owner of the studio, both of whom are white, impatiently await her arrival — time is money — the band warms up while bantering over philosophical topics like art, race and religion.

One of those band members is Levee, the ambitious trumpeter. In this production, directed by Chuck Smith, Levee is deftly portrayed with a precise combination of charm, energy and passion by Al’Jaleel McGhee. I’ve seen this production many times, and I don’t believe I’ve seen anyone embody Levee the way McGhee did opening night. This character, and the show, belonged to him.

When McGhee, who was also a force in Goodman's recent production “Revolution(s),” first bursts on stage, with his brand new pair of shoes, the excitement and self-assurance in that moment is palpable. These shoes symbolize more than just fancy footwear — this is about his pride and sense of self. They’re an extension of his determination to decide and craft his own destiny, and McGhee nails it.

When we learn Levee’s backstory and the horrific act he witnessed his mother suffer, McGhee burns like a furnace. His rage was so hot I felt it from my seat. Throughout the show, his presence is magnetic, and as a viewer, it was hard to not focus solely on the immaculate performance taking place.

Smith clearly has a knack for staging Wilson’s work — and obviously, this is not his first rodeo. Wilson’s writing is lyrical, at times poetic, but Smith keeps the production grounded, and everything happening feels real and raw.

E. Faye Butler is a delight as Ma Rainey. She is a complicated diva, with emphasis on the diva. Her performance at times is larger than life, which the role calls for, but she also poignantly delivers the true meaning of the blues and the genre’s deep connection to Black people. She also understands her place as a Black woman in 1920s America, and the true dynamics at play between herself, her manager and the owner of the studio. She knows she has the upper hand now, and that she must play hardball, because once her voice is on record, and they no longer need her to make money, everything will change.

Wilson thrives in these complexities and pulls so much humanity out of these characters. His take on the arts and Black artists' relationship to exploitation are poignant in themselves, but he also puts these themes next to religion and Black people's place in Christianity. All the while, the show still maintains its laughs and joy, and of course, there’s music. Harry Lennix, perhaps best known as an actor, serves as music director in this production and makes his presence felt, especially when Ma Rainey performs her titular tune.

What makes this production feel special is the lightness. It’s still a drama, but between the heavy blows, there’s joy in the sparring. Smith has such comfort with the work that he allows a looseness in the actors' performances that I appreciate. The ending, which I won’t fully spoil here, still lands as hard as ever — with Levee watching his potential future drip like blood from his fingertips. The moment is fully earned, and despite the devastating outcome, the journey leading up to it was an enjoyable ride.