The Family Line

When the bell rang out through the Historic BK House and Gardens' courtyard, signifying the start of Goat in the Road Productions' brand-new immersive play about the 1892 General Strike in New Orleans, I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. When it comes to live performance, such a sense of urgency and ownership is usually reserved for a production's actors and technicians. In Goat in the Road's production of The Family Line, though, the audience is invited to step from behind the fourth wall and share in the thrilling anxiety of storytelling. 

At the ring of the bell, the cast of characters each entered into their daily lives in 1892 New Orleans, scattering into the various historic outbuildings and basements of the historic venue. It is up to each audience member to decide who they follow, and the action of the play is dependent upon which actor one chooses to pursue. In the absence of the fourth wall, the audience is encouraged to move around, enter the spaces that have been transformed into a grocery store, a bedroom, and a storeroom; to watch the characters' reactions from mere feet, even inches. 

Characters the audience can choose to follow include Dez (played by Constance Thompson), the strong-willed and determined workers' rights advocate, who urges others to join her in the strike. Or, there is Pascal (played by Dylan Hunter), the drunk-but-charming Sicilian who lost his brother to violence in the family store, and realizes his murderer was less random than was first assumed. There's also reserved-yet-fierce Natalia (played by Grace Kennedy), who is hesitant to join the strike, but cannot even afford to fix a painful tooth on her current wages. Much like life, each individual comes with their own unique story and reality, and the audience experience changes considerably depending on who they follow. Directors Chris Kaminstein and Richon May have not only guided the cast to a place of riveting emotional sincerity, but the flow of the action between rooms and spaces is fluid and organic.

And, also much like life (and life in recent years, especially), history is constantly being made—characters organically reference events of their time like Homer Plessy's protest, and the smallpox epidemic. Again and again characters reference the Times-Democrat, a real publication of New Orleans at the time, and each time characters groan at the publication’s lack of ethics and tendency to incite violence with its dramatized coverage. Such detailed history is not incorporated haphazardly, either—Helen Jaksch served in the under-utilized position of dramaturg for the production, and the extensive research and attention to accuracy that she and others put toward the many historical aspects of the show shone through, making the production feel more authentic than any reenactment or museum piece.

Thankfully, the entire show repeats twice in seventy-five minutes—with another ring of the bell the characters reset, meaning their audience gets to experience the same world from two entirely different perspectives. The first ending I watched was a high-stakes blowout where one character is accused of being complicit in another's murder; the second was a quietly-introspective monologue about finding God in a tavern. While massively different, both were incredibly moving. 

Such an immediate format is perfect for bringing history to vivid life in a way that cannot be replicated by books or tour guides. The Family Line hones in on a tumultuous period of New Orleans history, when Sicilian and African-Creole workers joined together to organize a strike that eventually resulted in improvements in workers' rights. By setting the show at the Historic BK House, which was once at the heart of the Quarter's "Little Palermo," the audience is made to feel like they've actually travelled in time; like they're witnessing history unfold before them. 

The Family Line will run at the Historic BK House and Gardens from October 21–December 18, with performances at 7:30 pm Wednesdays and Thursdays, 6 pm and 8 pm Fridays, and 2:30 pm Sundays. $40 at goatintheroadproductions.org.