In a cheerier than usual season at the Unicorn Theatre, last March's Crowns was the unabashed smiliest show of all: a gospel tribute to the almighty hats donned by Southern black women at Sunday services. The show was such a hit that it's making a return engagement with the same cast in April. It had us tapping along but wishing the material were beefier. (And it had a conservative friend complaining: "Would those liberals everstage a positive show about white churches?" We told him to shut up.) As Yolanda, a tough girl hauled from the city and its culture to the churchy South, Angela Polk was called upon to spend most of the show in a stone funk, considering all the hat business around her with a glower. But every 20 minutes or so, life swelled up in her, and she'd talk, rap or sing at us, revealing deep-dish pipes and soul to burn. At the climax, she finally got to unleash, ripping into a soul ballad as heavy as all that dark matter the astronomers can't find. An audience member called out, "Sing it, baby!" The Unicorn crowd -- usually not much for talking back to the actors -- said, "Amen."
