But whatever the good intention, there are complications that come with works that aim to use colorblind casting to highlight people of color who otherwise would not be represented. Creators can cast blind eyes, thinking that their job is done, failing to consider a black man interpreted as a criminal or an incarnate latina woman as a sassy seductress – even when they are unconditioned regardless of their race – can still be problematic. One type of blindness can lead to another.
And then there is also the “Hamilton” problem. The show can place various bodies on the stage, but productions that would overturn a narrative traditionally held by white characters should not just label actors of color but reconsider the fundamental way in which the new cast changes history. In “Hamilton”, the revision of American history is dazzling and important, but it also neglects and cancels out the parts of the original history that do not correspond so well to this narrow model. The relationship of the characters to slavery, for example, is hardly mentioned, because it would be incongruous with the triumphant overhaul of the first leaders of our country. (The star and creator of “Hamilton”, Lin-Manuel Miranda, responded to this review this week, calling it “valid.”)
The problem with a colorblind production may not be the cast itself, but the fact that the cast can always erase the identity of the reimagined characters. (If Willy Loman is black, wouldn’t he have a more complex understanding of the American dream?) The cast of reckless colorblinds – in animated roles, in live action roles on television, in the movies, or on stage – supposes that identities are worth nothing and that all experiences are transferable, which is far from reality.
In a 1996 speech, playwright August Wilson spoke out against the colorblind cast as a whole, stating:
To mount an entirely black production of a “death of a seller” or any other piece designed for white actors as an investigation into the human condition through the specificities of white culture, is to deny us our own humanity, our own history and the need to make our own inquiries from the cultural terrain on which we stand as black Americans. It is an assault on our presence and our difficult but honorable history in America; and it is an insult to our intelligence, to our playwrights and to our many and varied contributions to society and to the world in general.
Wilson did not call for the colorblind cast, but for the institutions that invite art by and for people of color, to tell their own stories and not just those that are adapted to them. It does not call for blindness, but for visibility: people of color seen on stage and behind the curtains. This applies to all forms of art – people of color should be on movie screens, on television and in recording booths giving voice to stories about them.
