Smoky and zingy duck-egg salad, with chives, spread thick with pepperjack cheese, thick-cut heirloom-beefsteak tomato slice, and spicy brown mustard on a crispy baguette brushed with red pepper flake and chili oil. Mm. The first bite should be an invitation you can’t refuse. Spotlighters Theatre closes out their 62^nd Season with that sumptuous first bite— Clyde’s by Lynn Nottage— and it’s as delicious as the advertisements have been leading everyone to believe. Directed by Rikki Howie Lacewell, this tasty morsel of evocative theatre pops on and off the stage faster than you can make the perfect sandwich.

The Audrey Herman Spotlighters Theatre has always posed some interesting challenges when it comes to spatial awareness, alignment, and overall blocking. But Director Rikki Howie Lacewell, working with Scenic Designer Justin Nepomuceno, Lighting Designer Jen Sizer, and the SM-Team: Miles A. Lawlor (main stage manager) and Darlay Altenord (assistant stage-manager), have overcome those challenges as readily as a sous chef snapping to in one of Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Impossible scenarios. The postage-stamp stage, with it’s four load-bearing support columns and cross-x entrances becomes the filthy interior of Clyde’s— a ‘greasy spoon’ truck-stop known for their sandwiches. Nepomuceno puts a load of intensity into making the place look grody, with the rust stains dripping into the wall paint, and the safety posters looking like they were slap-dash smacked onto the wall just because someone heard the health inspector was due for a visit. The rolling prep-stations not only create fluidity on the stage from a pragmatic blocking standpoint but they allow for some cohesive visual moments when the characters bring their stations together, unifying physically and emotionally in those moments. Altenord and Lawlor, who also double-up as the show’s Properties Designers, really fill out the details— live sandwiches, real canned goods on the shelves; the show’s aesthetic really draws the audience into what’s happening. Sizer’s lighting design is natural, though there are definitely some ‘spiritually elevated’ moments, down with deft subtly, whenever Montrellous is waxing poetic about sandwiches and the art of making them.

Complementing these moments of purple prose, Sound Designer Erin Klarner includes a serene meditation bell that chimes delicately whenever the Montrellous character starts talking about a particular sandwich. It’s unique and only for him as he is the sensei guru of the place, allowing the audience to feel the calm he brings with him into every recipe. Klarner also populates the between-scenes-beats with music that accurately reflects the emotional discharges rolling out of and into each scene; again, this is approached with a subtly, but works brilliantly for both a way of keeping the overall flow of the show in motion and for allowing the audience to be immersed in the verve of the character’s world, particularly when the music starts as non-diegetic between-scenes and flows into the diegetic radio battle between Rafael and Jason.

And while costumes in a present-day non-specific locale may not seem quite so important to the show as they might in say a period drama or neo-dystopian musical, Costume Designer Wendy Snow Walker gives each of the character’s a vein in which to augment their personalities by way of sartorial selection. This is the case, particularly for Clyde, who is dressed up in a far too-polished manner for the establishment she’s running, but you expect that sort of appearance from that attitude. Montrellous and the others are presented with more subtly in their costume pieces, which works well to give them hints of flavor, accenting what character choices they’re bringing to the stage rather than overwhelming them. It’s like knowing how much garlic and salt to use, enhancing without overpowering, and it’s something Walker does well.

Lacewell should be praised, if not for making the perfect sandwich, but for making some perfect pacing. The show runs TIGHT. The dialogue is a little slick at times, and there are moments where if for just a breath, one wishes that the delivery of words would ease back just a fraction, if for nothing but the sake of understanding what’s being said in those moments. Plenty of us hear with a fast ear, but plenty of us appreciate hearing words in their fullness too. This is minor and happens infrequently enough that it could be chalked up to opening night jitters and excitement. But the show’s overall pacing is— what’s that newspaper word? Ah, sublime. You never get the chance to fall out of the story and you’re left with a lot to digest by the time the final moment hits the stage. In addition to near-perfect pacing, Lacewell’s strongest demonstration of directorial expertise in this production is the intrapersonal character relationships she’s developed on stage. The prime example, which also turns out to be a really hilarious moment— especially if you’re watching it from the house back-right wall— is when the character of Letitia starts hacking away at iceberg lettuce like a banshee unhinged and Montrellous sidles up to her, calmly wending through an anecdote without missing a beat whilst simultaneously getting the knife away from her so she doesn’t hurt herself or the prep table. It’s such a minute moment but it speaks volumes about the way the characters interact and it’s highlighted so perfectly that it’s just a treat to savor. The play is peppered liberally with moments like these, all of which Lacewell has done a fine job of honing in on.

With a cast of just five, everyone has to pull their weight in regards to the narrative burden. And in this production, that benchmark is a success. No one’s lagging or feeling ‘less-than’ and the camaraderie, even with the steroid-pumped-bulldog-figure that is the titular character, is strong and realistic. Otega Okurume as Montrellous offers gentle, albeit quickly delivered, sageness that transcends the play at every angle. Michael Holland-Collins, as Jason, brings a jittery indefatigable restlessness to the stage that keeps you on your toes wondering not if but when his character is going to snap. Andy Belt, as Rafael, has a firm handle on his Latin-X accent and when he hits his moment of devolving confession, it reads with a great intensity. Vanessa McNair, as Letitia has a raw earnestness in her approach to being both mouthy and real. Dionne Belk, as the titular character of Clyde, is a whole other restaurant’s worth of intense. And the five of them pair together— what’s that word again? Right. Sublimely.

Belk, who is the textbook definition of raging-inferno-jet-fuel-set-ablaze, doesn’t yield; you never question whether or not her character has sympathy, empathy, or the shred of a heart. There’s cold, calculating misgivings— even when she elicits raucous laughter from the audience while shaking her booty and body evocatively at poor Jason (Holland-Collins.) When tensions between Holland-Collins and McNair’s Letitia all but erupt— largely because McNair does such a fine job of agitating and getting all up in Holland-Collins’ face— Belk’s Clyde is there to shut it down harder and faster than the hoosegow door slamming shut on a life sentence and with as much ferocity and intensity too.

The show is ultimately a catharsis in one form or another; watching characters learn the lesson of “…just cuz you left prison don’t mean you’re outta prison…” or feeling the reconstructive hope for a new future in something as simple as a sandwich. It’s an impressive feat and well worth attending as the season-closer.   

Running Time: 90 minutes with no intermission

Clyde’s plays through July 6^th 2025 at The Audrey Herman Spotlighters Theatre— 817 Saint Paul Street, Baltimore MD. For tickets call the box office at (410) 752-1225 or purchase them online.