“I wanted my happy ending to be tragic.” That striking line arrives midway through Trinity, and it serves as both confession and thesis statement, an arresting doorway into the deeply personal new work from Emmy Award–winning writer, actor, and producer Lena Waithe, now premiering at Ba ltimore Center Stage. Known for reshaping contemporary television with bold, culturally rooted storytelling (Master of None, The Chi), Waithe steps into a more vulnerable arena here, bringing her voice to the stage with a piece that feels less like fiction and more like an emotional autopsy performed in public. Waithe’s play charts the formation of two pivotal relationships, the complicated emotional terrain that sustained them, and ultimately the unraveling of her marriage. We see the excitement of connection, the shared ambitions, the intimacy that builds when two people believe they are creating something lasting. But as the story unfolds, fractures begin to show, misalignments in values, communication, and personal growth that gradually widen into rupture. The narrative does not simply depict an ending; it examines the slow, often chaotic process of realizing that something once believed to be permanent is, in fact, dissolving. The play begins in the aftermath, asking what remains when love, identity, and public persona collide. Courtney Sauls (B) and Lena Waithe (A) in ‘Trinity.’ Photo by Teresa Castracane. Directed and produced by Stevie Walker-Webb, the production embraces this emotional volatility rather than smoothing it out. Walker-Webb leans into the instability of memory and reflection, crafting staging that allows scenes to flow like recollections rather than in a linear sequence. Characters move through spaces that feel simultaneously present and remembered, creating an atmosphere where past and present coexist uneasily. One of the most surprising and effective aspects of Trinity is just how comedic it is, even when dealing with weighty subject matter. The humor does not feel inserted for relief; it feels innate to the characters and situations. There is a recognizable truth in the way people joke through discomfort, deflect pain with wit, or find absurdity in their own missteps. The audience laughs often, sometimes guiltily, because the comedy is drawn from recognizable human behavior. Even in serious moments, there is a sharp observational edge that keeps the play from becoming heavy-handed. The production’s use of music and lighting is especially noteworthy. Beautifully rendered by Taylor J. Williams and Adam Honore, respectively. The music is not ornamental; it underscores internal states, bridging scenes in ways that feel intuitive rather than imposed. At times it pulses with urgency; at others it recedes into a contemplative hum, allowing the audience to sit inside moments of reflection. The lighting design works in seamless partnership, shaping time, memory, and mood with remarkable precision. Harsh shifts isolate characters in their own psychological spaces, while broader washes reestablish the communal world they are trying to navigate. Together, these elements elevate the storytelling, guiding us through the transitions with a mastered ease. That tonal balancing act underscores what the production does best: it lets chaos remain chaos. Emotional confrontations are messy. Conversations overlap. Motivations are not always cleanly explained. Instead of presenting a tidy narrative arc, the play allows contradictions to stand side by side. This is a story about unraveling, and the structure mirrors that unraveling with deliberate unpredictability. Fedna Jacquet (C), Courtney Sauls (B), and Lena Waithe (A) in ‘Trinity.’ Photo by Teresa Castracane. As the play interrogates the dissolution of the marriage at its center, it also raises a provocative question: does the protagonist fully hold herself accountable? The script offers reflection, insight, and moments of vulnerability, yet there are times when the analysis seems to hover just short of full reckoning. That tension between explanation and accountability adds complexity to the experience. The audience is not given conclusions; they are asked to sit with ambiguity, to consider how we all narrate our own lives, often with selective clarity. What makes this inquiry compelling is that it unfolds without defensiveness. The writing suggests someone trying to understand, even if that understanding remains incomplete. Whether viewers interpret that as honesty, avoidance, or something in between will likely vary, and that interpretive openness becomes part of the play’s power. Waithe plays the character identified in the program as A, and the ensemble — C played by Fedna Jacquet and B acted by Courtney Sauls — delivers phenomenal performances across the board. Each actress inhabits their role with specificity and emotional intelligence, ensuring that no character exists merely as a narrative device. Relationships feel textured and layered, with affection, frustration, admiration, and disappointment coexisting in believable ways. The cast handles the rapid tonal shifts, from biting humor to quiet devastation, with impressive dexterity. This grounded approach keeps the story relatable, even when it edges into deeply personal territory. Courtney Sauls (B) and Fedna Jacquet (C) in ‘Trinity.’ Photo by Teresa Castracane. The much-anticipated insight into this chapter of Waithe’s life proves not only revealing but also unexpectedly generous. Rather than presenting a polished version of events, Trinity invites audiences into the uncertainty of transition. It acknowledges that growth is rarely graceful and that understanding often arrives long after the fact. In that way, the play feels less like a retrospective and more like a beginning. It is the premiere not just of a production, but of an evolving narrative — an artist stepping into a new phase and allowing us to witness the questions that come with it. Trinity is bold, funny, chaotic, and searching. It resists easy answers, embraces contradiction, and ultimately reminds us that the stories we tell about love and loss are never as simple as we wish they were. It is, overall, a great play — and an even more compelling debut of this new chapter in Lena Waithe’s life, one that invites audiences to reflect not only on her journey, but on their own definitions of accountability, healing, and what it truly means to move forward. Running Time: 80 minutes, no intermission. Trinity plays through March 15, 2026, at Baltimore Center Stage, 700 North Calvert Street, Baltimore, MD. For tickets ($10–$90, with senior and student discounts available), call the box office at (410) 332-0033 (Tuesday through Friday, noon–5 pm), email [email protected], or purchase them online. The program for Trinity is available online here. The post Boldly autobiographical ‘Trinity’ debuts at Baltimore Center Stage appeared first on DC Theater Arts. ...read more read less