The Weight of Legacy: Why 'Purpose' Resonates Far Beyond the Stage
There’s something profoundly human about a family dinner table. It’s where laughter collides with tension, where secrets simmer beneath the surface, and where the weight of generations is felt in every silence. Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ Pulitzer Prize-winning play Purpose, now making its West Coast premiere at La Jolla Playhouse, doesn’t just capture this dynamic—it dissects it, challenges it, and leaves you questioning the very idea of legacy.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Jacobs-Jenkins uses the intimate lens of one family to explore something far larger: the crisis of purpose that plagues not just the Jaspers, but anyone grappling with the expectations of their ancestors. Loosely inspired by the Jesse Jackson family, the play centers on the Jaspers, a Black American family whose celebratory weekend in Chicago unravels into a contentious exploration of identity, faith, and the cost of living authentically.
The Family as a Microcosm of Broader Struggles
One thing that immediately stands out is how the Jaspers embody the contradictions of progress. Patriarch Solomon, a religious and politically-minded champion of the Civil Rights Movement, is at odds with his sons, Junior and Naz. Junior, fresh out of prison, and Naz, a nature photographer, represent a new generation that rejects the rigid ideals of their father’s era. Personally, I think this tension is where the play’s genius lies. It’s not just about familial conflict; it’s about the clash between the ideals of a movement and the messy realities of individual lives.
What many people don’t realize is that this struggle is universal. Whether it’s the Civil Rights Movement, immigration, or any other collective fight, the question of how to honor the past while forging your own path is timeless. The Jaspers’ dinner table becomes a battleground for this very question, and it’s impossible not to see echoes of your own family’s unspoken tensions in their story.
Naz’s Journey: A Mirror to Our Own Search for Authenticity
Matthew Elijah Webb, who plays Naz, describes the character as “probably the closest to myself that I’ve experienced in a play.” As a queer person raised in a faith-forward household with strict ideas about masculinity, Naz’s journey of self-discovery feels deeply personal. What this really suggests is that the play isn’t just about one family’s crisis—it’s about the universal struggle to exist in one’s true self, even when that self contradicts the expectations of those who came before.
A detail that I find especially interesting is Naz’s role as the narrator, breaking the fourth wall to address the audience directly. “Buckle up,” he warns, and it’s a warning that resonates far beyond the stage. If you take a step back and think about it, aren’t we all narrators of our own stories, trying to make sense of the chaos around us? Naz’s journey is a reminder that liberation often begins with the courage to tell your own truth.
The Director’s Perspective: When Art Hits Close to Home
Director Delicia Turner Sonnenberg’s connection to the material is equally compelling. Growing up in Atlanta, surrounded by the legacy of the Civil Rights Movement, she sees her own family’s history reflected in the Jaspers. Her grandmother marched with Martin Luther King Jr., and Turner Sonnenberg’s childhood was steeped in the stories of those who fought for equality. This raises a deeper question: How do we carry the weight of our ancestors’ sacrifices without being crushed by them?
From my perspective, Turner Sonnenberg’s interpretation of the play as “outrageously funny” yet “deeply moving” is spot on. Jacobs-Jenkins’ quick-fire dialogue and moments of lightness disarm the audience, making the heavier themes even more impactful. It’s a masterclass in balancing humor and gravity, a reminder that life itself is often a messy blend of the two.
The Crisis of Purpose: A Universal Dilemma
The play’s central theme—the crisis of purpose—is something I believe everyone can relate to. Turner Sonnenberg reflects on her own 20s, a time when she felt purposeless, and how a wise mentor told her, “You’re not who you’re supposed to be until you’re 30.” This idea of purpose as an evolving journey, rather than a fixed destination, is both comforting and unsettling.
What this really suggests is that purpose isn’t something we inherit or achieve—it’s something we continually negotiate. The Jaspers’ struggle isn’t just about their individual identities; it’s about the collective purpose of a family, a community, and a nation. If you take a step back and think about it, aren’t we all grappling with this in some way?
Why 'Purpose' Matters Now More Than Ever
In a world where division seems to outweigh unity, Purpose feels like a necessary mirror. It forces us to confront the ways in which we’re shaped by our past, for better or worse. But it also offers hope—the hope that, like Naz, we can find liberation in authenticity.
Personally, I think what makes this play so powerful is its refusal to provide easy answers. It’s messy, it’s complicated, and it’s unapologetically human. In a culture that often demands clarity and resolution, Purpose dares to embrace the ambiguity of existence.
Final Thoughts: A Play That Stays With You
As the curtain falls, you’re left with more questions than answers. And that, in my opinion, is the mark of great art. Purpose doesn’t just entertain—it challenges, provokes, and inspires. It’s a reminder that the search for purpose is not a destination but a journey, one that we’re all on together.
So, if you’re in La Jolla, I urge you to see it. But be warned: this isn’t just a night at the theater. It’s an experience that will linger long after the applause fades, a conversation that will stay with you as you grapple with your own purpose, your own legacy, and your own truth.
