Lights Out: Nat “King” Cole – 16 May 2025

Colman Domingo and Patricia McGregor have written a deliciously dark masterpiece in this unforgettable production, illuminating Nat “King” Cole’s inner struggle between his desire to pave the way for other Black dreamers and how enraged he felt by the racism he had to endure to do it. Lights Out personifies this rage in a character, Sammy Davis Jr. (Daniel J. Watts). Close friends in real life, unlike Nat “King” Cole, who thrived on being proper (or an Uncle Tom, depending on who gets to write his story), Sammy Davis Jr. thrived on scandal, going from a publically self described “one-eyed Negro who’s Jewish”^ to a Satanist later in life. This play, which takes place mostly in Nat “King” Cole’s mind, posits that Cole desperately wanted to embrace his inner Sammy and be truthful about how hurtful it was to perform covered in white powder, to be considered disgusting when interacting with white guests on the show, and to be called unclean when he was keeping his real passion and fire in check at all times for the ratings. Lights Out revealed the Nat “King” Cole Show to be a real dog and pony show that did not deliver on its primary premise—to show a Black man as a television show host with dignity.

The performance begins on the last night of the Nat “King” Cole show, on which a conflicted Nat “King” Cole (Dulé Hill) debates blowing the last show open and saying what he really feels if it is the last show anyway. Through memories and wild imaginings, he thinks through what it really means to hold your head up high. Along the way, he hears the whisperings of Sammy Davis Jr., who he knows is both the voice of the future and, in some respects, his own inner voice, baiting him to expose that Nat has given up his dignity in order to be palatable. There is an unforgettable tap dance sequence (choreography: Jared Grimes) in which Sammy and Nat work it out in sweat, which gives Nat the ability to release his fantasy of exposing everyone’s racism in his final televised moments and give the performance the network is expecting. Though he knows it all to be a sham, he decides to fight for ten more Black people who might get opportunities like his going forward because he was gracious and kind, as opposed to closing the door on television being willing to take chances on the next ten Black people who have big dreams of the silver screen because he threw the opportunity in everyone’s face.

A large portion of the show takes place in Cole’s head, and there are also some farcical moments– in particular, the new incredibly racist cigarette commercial and the acceptable racial distance ruler. The humor in the show is very dark, but it’s balanced by the sweetness of everybody’s voices and the schmaltzy love songs that Dule Hill’s voice drips honey all over despite the raging battle inside. The cast of supporting characters is phenomenal, especially Perlina (Kenita Miller), whose rousing rendition of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” was deeply haunting and thought provoking in its context.

Lights Out: Nat “King” Cole is thematically all about context, and many of the questions it asks are still relevant for artists today. A lot of becoming recognized in performing arts has to do with pandering to the correct people. At what point do you get to be yourself? People are constantly telling you to be grateful you got anything at all in a very tough industry and a very tough world. You’re supposed to “smile, though your heart is breaking” as if that’s really enough to get you through. Acting is, by definition, being someone you’re not, but how do you respond to being forced into positions that are at odds with your very being. Are you making compromises or sacrifices? How steep a price are you willing to pay for your dream, when your dream is to inspire through song as opposed to through action? It might be a surprise to think that someone who made it as far as Nat “King” Cole did would struggle with any of these questions, but Lights Out shows that systemic poison reaches every level—and it does even today.

The seminal metaphor in Lights Out was that of light and darkness. The show flirted with the madness in both, as well as the idea that standing in the light necessitates casting a shadow of one’s own. This is a show about embracing the darkness as a part of the process that does not necessarily necessitate having the opportunity to stand in the light. Darkness is the canvas upon which light paints—and when we’re talking about skin color, that’s a pretty sickening image. Lights Out: Nat “King” Cole teaches that there is something worth embracing in the absence of light, but that there is a difference between light and goodness. Finding that difference necessitates not being afraid of the dark.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Print Shop PR.

^Religion: Jewish Negro Time. February 1, 1960