Ghosts of Atwood

This sometimes plodding, sometimes lively premiere combines a host of appealing elements that, thanks to cumbersome staging, never quite cohere. The play charts Quinn’s arrival at the Atwood School for Boys as the second black student in an otherwise white military academy. The pressure of racial intolerance and bruising atmosphere weighs heavily on his first few weeks, but when the specter of sexual abuse—euphemistically known as the “ghost” stalking the nighttime halls—visits horror on his dormitory, he learns the cause of his classmates’ violent rage.

In Aakhu’s memory play, adult Quinn sets the scene, gives us the meaning and then jumps decades into the past to act it as his 12-year-old self. It’s one of several ponderous choices, including brutally slow scene changes, a live band backstage, an interloping reggae-singing commentator and long displays of military protocol that combine to anesthetize the momentum generated by a gregarious cast of fresh-faced actors.

There are great moments, particularly the arresting “ghost” sequences in which an amorphous mass of shimmering black cloth oozes onto a stage flooded with fractal red light. It’s a frightening placeholder for sinister acts, and a reminder of how, when tied to the core action, focused window dressing can go a long way.