A Frontmezzjunkies Broadway review: Jocelyn Bioh’s sharp, hilarious comedy takes on teenage ambition, colorism, and the painful pursuit of acceptance.
By Ross
The theatre gods finally took pity on me. After a cancelled flight derailed my first opportunity to see Manhattan Theatre Club’s Broadway production of Jocelyn Bioh’s School Girls; Or, The African Mean Girls Play. A second attempt fell apart when one of the leads was out during the weekend I had planned to be in New York. I had almost resigned myself to missing it altogether, so being able to catch a live online screening felt like a rather glorious third chance (and there’s one more chance to catch it today). And what a production I finally got to experience. Set in 1986 at Aburi Girls’ Senior High School in Ghana, Bioh’s sharply observed comedy opens with the girls already in a flurry of opinions about one another, their appearance, and the social currency of being considered beautiful. The lyrics playing as they enter, “Everybody talking all this stuff about me,” set the tone beautifully, as the girls assess themselves and each other with declarations of looking “fine, fine, fine” or the more uncomfortable and mean-girl-esque “fat, fat, fat.” The opening makes a strong first impression, introducing the more complicated reality of a school culture in which appearance carries enormous power.
At the centre of this carefully maintained hierarchy is Paulina Sarpong, played by Denée Benton with a fierce command of the room and an undercurrent that gradually complicates our response to her. Paulina is the reigning queen bee, already rehearsing the answers she hopes will carry her to the front of a beauty pageant and a future beyond the poverty she is desperate to escape. Her authority begins to fracture with the arrival of Ericka Boafo, played perfectly by Jasmine Amy Rogers, a wealthy, lighter-skinned transfer student from Ohio whose beauty and talent immediately attract the attention of Eloise, the pageant recruiter portrayed slyly by Patina Miller. Rogers brings an infectious charm and impressive vocal power to Ericka, particularly during the musical showdown that pushes the rivalry towards its breaking point. The other girls, played by Lucia Aremu, Erin Morton, Nia Otchere-Sarfo, and Jordan Rice, gradually find their own voices as the group’s loyalties fracture and shift. Their transformation from a tightly coordinated circle of followers into young women willing to challenge Paulina gives the comedy much of its intellectual momentum. “Thinking for yourself is not that hard,” one of them observes, and the flicker of rebellion is almost palpable, even through a screen.
Bioh (Jaja’s African Hair Braiding) has a terrific instinct for finding comedy in the sharp-edged language of teenage social life, allowing the insults, rivalries, and cafeteria manoeuvring to generate plenty of laughs while exposing the insecurities underneath. The play’s treatment of colorism gives those conflicts a deeper and increasingly painful context. Ericka’s lighter skin and mixed heritage attract a troubling kind of attention, revealing how deeply Western ideals of beauty have travelled into the girls’ understanding of their own worth. The discussion of skin-bleaching creams and weight becomes especially troubling as the play exposes the damage inflicted by standards that tell these young women that their bodies and natural appearance need correcting. Paulina’s cruelty is never excused, but Benton’s performance allows us to glimpse the fear and desperation driving her behaviour. Her ambition has become bound up with the hope of escaping poverty, and the arrival of Ericka threatens the future she has been working towards. Patina Miller brings a poised yet complex authority and a devious touch of mischief to Eloise, while Heather Alicia Simms gives Headmistress Francis a grounded presence as the school struggles to contain the fallout. Their adult perspectives complicate the girls’ predicament, particularly when the demand for unity arrives alongside the announcement of who will represent Ghana at the pageant.
Whitney White (Broadway’s Liberation) directs the production with a brisk, infectious energy, punctuating the action with the music and pop-cultural references of the 1980s, including the music of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston. Teresa L. Williams‘s glass-walled cafeteria set gives the school a lively visual structure, allowing glimpses of the private dramas unfolding around the main action, while Qween Jean‘s costumes make wonderful use of the contrast between the girls’ school uniforms and the glittering pageant world they aspire to enter. The lighting design by Stacey Derosier and sound design by Cody Spencer help shift the atmosphere from the familiar bustle of school life to the heightened excitement and mounting tension of the competition. The 80-minute running time keeps the action moving, although it can make some developments feel hurried. Paulina’s loss of control over her clique happens rather quickly, as though the group’s loyalties were already on the verge of snapping before Ericka’s arrival. The shift from broad teenage comedy to the more devastating consequences of beauty standards and rejection can occasionally feel abrupt, leaving some of the emotional developments without quite enough room to unfold
When the story reaches the Miss Global Universe Pageant of 1986, the girls are watching with their hopes tied to a competition that carries enormous significance for their country and for their own sense of possibility. The pageant’s familiar and deeply exclusionary standards of beauty bring the play’s central questions into sharp focus, exposing the prejudice and exclusion that sit just beneath the promise of recognition. Bioh has given these young women plenty of wonderfully funny things to say, but she also understands the hurt beneath their play, the desire to belong, and the fierce need to be seen as worthy. The ensemble makes that emotional journey feel alive, with Benton giving Paulina a particularly affecting mixture of aggression, insecurity, and longing, while Rogers charts Ericka’s growing awareness with warmth and conviction. I was delighted to finally get my chance to see School Girls; Or, The African Mean Girls Play, even from a distance. Its girls are caught in a system that teaches them to measure their value through the eyes of others, and the play’s final movement carries the weight of that lesson. Beneath the pageant dreams, the competition, and all the wonderfully vicious schoolyard chatter are young women trying to work out who they are allowed to be, and whether they can find a way to value themselves on their own terms.
