I wish I’d looked up the meaning of the titular basketball term before watching Flex. It would have been useful knowing it refers to a playing strategy that centres constant motion and interchangeable roles within a game. There is jargon aplenty in Candrice Jones‘ script, making much of the dialogue during practice and games entirely incomprehensible to me. Eventually, I was able to latch onto the essential story as it crystallized, though I struggled to find a way in. A co-production from Crow’s Theatre and Obsidian Theatre Company, director Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu’s production is full of innovative and snazzy visuals, but it didn’t always feel properly grounded.
We’re taken back to the late 1990s in rural Arkansas. Five young Black women make up a high school team readying themselves for tournament. Each dreams of going pro, but in-group tensions and life pressures complicate their dynamic and threaten to derail their Lady Train—such a fantastic team name! The only character whose interiority we are privy to, Starra (Shauna Thompson), is our anchor here. In plaintive asides, she speaks to her dead mother, whose ambition and talent for the game provides guiding inspiration. Insecurities about her immediate competition for scouts’ attention, Sidney (Jasmine Case), lead Starra to do something awful to secure her chance at glory.
Surrounding them are: the pregnant April (Jewell Bowry), Donna (Asha James), always trying to quash tensions and bring the mood up with some goofy nonsense; she and Cherise (Trinity Lloyd) are in a very cute relationship which they keep secret from their teammates—all their athletic and personal conflicts are observed and managed by Coach Pace (Sophia Walker), a tough yet empathetic authority figure, who regales them with stories of her past exploits; this is a standard routine for the young women who, in a hilarious bit, dutifully take a seat when she gets going.
Pregnancy is a big concern in their world. At the top, each of the five seem with child, though it is quickly revealed that the four others have donned pregnancy suits in solidarity with April, who fears being thrown off the team for her condition. A second act road trip to get her an abortion figures prominently in their bumpy journey, which is full of angst, scheming and fraught alliances. Women’s ambitions complicated by cultural mores and expectations is major theme of Jones’ script—solidified when Sidney makes it clear that, despite being from California, she isn’t exempt from the pressures of being young, Black and female.
Though the cast bring nuance and intensity to the table, the writing isn’t quite a strong enough foundation. Especially clunky is the traumatic backstory of April’s pregnancy. Devastating bombshell revelations can occur on a whim in real life, but something about the execution here feels contrived and expository.
Ken Mackenzie’s set transforms the space into a gymnasium with its hardwood court, split in the middle—one half thrusting horizontally out into the audience, the other running up the back wall, giving a dizzying sense of three dimensional, soaring perspective. The impact of this is immediately felt upon entering the space, where the grandeur of it creates the illusion you’re walking into a stadium. The court lines surprise us with bursts of illuminated colour. Seated along the side, I think I missed out on the set’s full spectacle as the design favours a front view. Fragmented sprouts of dead weeds along the edges suggest the dried earth that figures into their discussions of the surrounding area.
The production falters somewhat when it strives to place the characters in non-athletic spaces such as a home or a country road. While highly stylized mise en scène can be convincing, everything here feels too open and vast to properly sell the intimacy and specific atmosphere of these off-the-court scenes. As flashy and exciting as the elements are, they don’t always work to convey a convincing sense of place.
The game action scenes are dazzling though, with thrilling momentum and visual flair. The championship game is the compelling culmination of all these aesthetic elements, with the cast and creative team firing on all cylinders. Thomas Ryder Payne’s sound design offers up compelling ambient crowd noise, Raha Javnfar’s lighting adds dimension and scale, Ming Wong’s stunning burgundy Lady Train jerseys—it’s all working in tight, vibrant collaboration with the ensemble’s convincing, on-stage basketball playing.


