Grief and anger fuel fireside stories

“Listen to the heartbeat. Step to the light. Feed the fire.”

In the woods, a carefully tended fire illuminates the night. Three women and two men, slaves from a plantation in the mid-19th century, have gathered to remember who they are and to renew their spirit -- through stories told in a circle of light.

In Charlayne Woodard’s play “Flight,” at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, the selling of a mother and wife, a husband’s rage and a little boy’s grief are the catalyst for storytelling in the oral tradition of the West African griot, where once-upon-a-time tales, passed down through generations, merge with the reality of past and present.

“There was a time when there was no night and no day ... “

“Once there were two sisters ... “

“In the beginning, God made man and God made woman ...”

“There was a time when our people in Mother Africa could fly ...”

Directed by Robert Egan, who helped foster its development at the Ojai Playwrights Conference last year, the play is a series of interconnected segments. Memories of the grieving boy’s mother, Sadie, lead to stories that are acted out by the group of slaves as they try to coax the boy, L’il Jim (unseen), down from a tree, and to personal revelations and redemption as well.

This is a new path for Woodard, an actor who has earned acclaim writing and performing her solo, autobiographical plays. She doesn’t perform here, and her high-wattage presence is missed, but Woodard’s vibrant voice comes through, particularly during the enactment of her own versions of African and African American fables and folk tales that are salty, soulful and alive with wit.

Not all segments achieve liftoff, and a pedantic emphasis in Woodard’s writing too plainly shows the play’s educational roots. (The production, suitable for ages 10 and up, is presented by the Center Theatre Group’s P.L.A.Y. company. The Kirk Douglas is its new home base.)

There are soaring moments, however, and a notable cast of adult professionals to provide them: Myra Lucretia Taylor is the wise griot and matriarch Oh Beah; Frank Faucette is Nate, L’il Jim’s grieving father; Julanne Chidi Hill is troubled Alma; Chastity Dotson is Mercy, who mourns having been sold away from her own family; and Meshach Taylor is blacksmith Ezra, the group’s patriarch.

Each has standout moments. Faucette, whose angry Nate is a bit one-note, softens him into endearing reminiscences of Sadie whistling at the washtub and dancing at their wedding.

Hill is a delight as a mother who rescues her children and assorted dogs, goats and self-pitying villagers from the stomach of a greedy, one-tusked elephant.

The entire ensemble scores in a sly tale about why men are physically stronger than women, and why women “hold the keys” to the kitchen and the bedroom.

And, although there creeps in a somewhat anticlimactic feel to story introductions in the latter half of the play, the last tale leaves an indelible impression. In it, slaves “shackled in despair” have forgotten their gift of flight until the eldest among them (Taylor), looking into the eyes of a sorrowful young mother (Dotson), “remembered Africa.” The image of Dotson, bathed in white light, the cast kneeling around her and helping her “fly,” is unexpectedly beautiful and heart-wrenching.

Lighting designer Geoff Korf’s varied silhouettes, shadows and illuminations complement Myung Hee Cho’s woodsy set. Otis Sallid’s emphatic choreography is both eye- and ear-pleasing, while onstage drummer and percussionist Ameenah Kaplan effectively punctuates emotion and action, as does composer Karl Fredrik Lundeberg’s recorded music with harmonica, fiddle, kalimba, voices and drums.

*

‘Flight’

Where: Kirk Douglas Theatre, 9820 Washington Blvd., Culver City

When: 2 and 7:30 p.m. Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Additional performances: 7:30 p.m. Feb. 4, 8-11; 5 p.m. Feb. 6; 2 p.m. Feb. 9 and 10

Ends: Feb. 13

Price: $10 to $30

Contact: (213) 628-2772; www.KirkDouglasTheatre.org

Running time: One hour, 45 minutes