More than a Century Apart, Not So Far Away: Confederates at Firehouse Theatre

A Preview-Night Review of Dominique Morisseau’s Confederates, Directed by Dr. Tawnya Pettiford-Wates

Aug 20, 2026

Last time I went to Firehouse Theatre was for a River City Poets open mic, and I remember thinking—I’d never seen a stage like this. It was small, birch-colored, and looked difficult to sneak away from mid-scene for the bathroom or a beer. And those two things are… important to me. But I went last night to see my first play at Firehouse, which was really the first play I’d seen that wasn’t a musical or a Shakespeare play. And, well, it was nothing short of outstanding—which is not the sort of praise I particularly enjoy giving without qualification.

Dr. Tawnya Pettiford-Wates, the recently retired and legendary VCU Theatre professor who directed Confederates, let me know that the baby was only halfway out—and that the show was only going to get better. This surprised me. Although I know she is a woman of high standards, I had spent much of the evening trying to figure out what, exactly, there was left to improve. The only thing I thought might improve the play would be Denzel Washington himself making an appearance.

Last night was a preview night. The plays official opening is on Friday, August 21. Only now entering the world of theatre I don’t know exactly what the purpose of previews is except perhaps the chance to fall into the play—the breath work before the embodiment perhaps. I got the chance to speak with the assistant director Aiden Campbell before the preview who expressed real excitement for the show; he was prepared to be a part of telling this story however it went. And it was quite the story to tell.

There are multiple parallel stories happening over a century apart—that work to highlight how much has changed concerning race/ism in America, while also acknowledging the persistence of the ghost of slavery in American Life, institutionalized racism, and the pressures this places on Black people and Black leaders. I caught a peak of Aiden hugging all the cast members with a great sense of pride that they were getting where he and Dr. Pettiford-Wates were trying to take them.

I really could spoil the story for you with a close analysis of the acting and the writing, but the storytelling that comes from this show—and the way it comes, with such surprise, emotionally and spiritually—is better seen for yourself on the stage. I will give you a little taste, however.

Lucretia Marie opens the play and closes it, and here is the anchor. Her character, Sandra, is so self-assured yet so vulnerable. Perhaps the most recognizable archetype for me, Sandra is the woman carrying the world and the worlds that came before her, and Lucretia does an impeccable job presenting that weight without overplaying it. She handles, almost unnoticeably, the character’s demand that she remain poised despite countless encounters pushing her to break that poise—so well that when the character finally demands something different, we are all there with her, watery-eyed. Notice, in the play, how many people ask to help her and how many people ask for her help.

Nia Frazier is dazzling, startling, and hilarious—playing a very difficult antebellum enslaved woman role. Her facial expressions create the comedic flourish that carries us through some tough scenes, but she brilliantly captures the ironies of the time without making light of them. By the end of the play, we really get to see that Sarah was always on her way somewhere. Notice how many times someone asks her what she needs and how many times someone tells her what she needs.

Tevin Davis, the popular Kamala Harris social media satirist, plays two characters existing over a century apart, both concerned with Black masculinity. He plays these characters—to his great credit—in a way that kindly reveals the tragedy built into this social position—its bravery and its fragility. There isn’t much more I can say beyond that without giving something away, but there are swaths of speech in his modern-day character’s dialogue that sneak in crucial information about race and racism in America today. I encourage you to pay attention to them, particularly because the writing is smart enough not to announce every time it argues.

Molly Marsh plays two characters as well, both contending with her place in an anti-Black society as a white person. In both cases, her role as foil works to show the difficulty of sympathizing with the common trope of the aware-unaware white person. In one role, she is powerful but beset with personal tragedy incomparable to those around her and uses activism to cope; in the other, she is far less powerful, but beset by financial troubles that she resents not feeling like she can complain about due to her privilege—while proceeding to complain about them.

Molly does a terrific job maintaining her composure in scenes that I imagine are very difficult to complete, given the undeniable irony of the characters’ lack of self-awareness. The play refuses to redeem either character, though I found myself always hoping for the opportunity to forgive Candace and Missy Sue. I think the playwright Dominique Morisseau was wise to force us not to turn this into a Green Book-like plot. There is no confusion about who these characters are—no matter how nuanced they believe themselves to be.

About an hour into the play, Nicole Cowans enters, playing two equally complicated roles. Cowans handles serious themes like sexual exploitation, survival sex, and Black female solidarity with remarkable tact. Both of her characters expose that liberation doesn’t always mean everybody trusts each other or feels comfortable around each other. The play shows how survival in an anti-Black system forces everyone to do what gets them where they need to go.

Nicole’s ability to inhabit this space—with her characters reaching through the entire play toward another notion of a more clean and stereotypically unmovable idea of Blackness without us ever looking down on them—really allows the play to complete its circle of tragedy and redemption for the characters of color. Notice how much her characters long for, and consider how they get those desires met—and who, in the end, helps Cowan’s characters get closest to their goals.

And of course, the set, costume design, and technical work—sound, lighting, and projections—were amazing. I couldn’t imagine a spot in that intimate theatre that would make the experience any less moving. There are really three parts to the stage: modernity on the left, the enslaved quarters on the right, and the master’s house in the center. This is not a coincidence, and I am unwilling, at the present moment, to explain why. I ask you instead to pay attention to the tension it creates.

Additionally, pay attention to their clothes: how much clothing each character wears, their accessories, the colors they wear—or perhaps do not have the ability to wear. Notice whose hair is present and whose is not. Read all of the quotes that appear between scenes. And go to the bathroom beforehand—there is no intermission, and you’re going to want to see the whole thing through.