A triumph: Heavyweight performances propel Writers Theatre’s champion ‘The Royale’

“The Royale” ― 3.5 stars

Winning costs. And the price is often paid in blood and pain.

As a prizefighter, Jay “The Sport” Jackson, the central character in “The Royale,” Marco Ramirez’s tightly constructed, keenly theatrical boxing drama, understands that.

What Ramirez makes clear is that the champ isn’t the only one who pays a price, especially when the battle extends beyond the ring.

Running through Nov. 29 at Writers Theatre, “The Royale” is a fictionalized tale inspired by boxer Jack Johnson, who became the first Black heavyweight champion of the world during the early 20th century. But Ramirez’s 2013 play is not a typical bio-drama. It’s an unflinching, artfully conceived examination of the ripple effects one Black man’s triumph has on those around him and society at large, a point director Tyrone Phillips underscores in his dramatic coda that reveals the consequences of Johnson’s victory.

The charismatic La’Tevin Alexander, whose knockout performance marks his Writers debut, plays Jay (Johnson’s theatrical counterpart), a glib, ambitious fighter who possesses (in the playwright’s words) “swagger for days.”

The play begins with a percussive overture consisting of Alexander and Ajax Dontavius, as a fellow boxer, clapping and stomping while performing the synchronized dance style known as stepping. That “soundtrack” accompanies the action that unfolds on Lauren M. Nichols’ simple but atmospheric slatted wood boxing ring, dominated by a heavy punching bag and set against a brick wall with peeling paint.

We meet Alexander’s Jay in 1905, during a bout with Purly “Fish” Hawkins (the earnest, amiable Dontavius). The talented young newcomer so impresses Jay and trainer, mentor and resident sage Wynton (James Vincent Meredith) that they hire him as Jay’s sparring partner. Meredith’s understated performance is especially effective late in the play when he delivers Wynton’s quietly powerful monologue explaining the origins of “The Royale” while acknowledging the racial violence and exploitation men of color endure.

Eager for his shot at the title once held by retired white heavyweight champion Bernard “The Champ” Bixby, Jay persuades promoter Max (a sympathetic Scott Aiello, who eschews stereotypes) to lure Bixby out of retirement for “the fight of the century.”

It “ain’t about bein’ no heavyweight champion of the white world,” Jay tells reporters on the eve of the fight. “It’s about bein’ champion, period.”

His sister Nina (a careful, caring AnJi White) worries that Jay is so caught up “playing David to Goliath” that he has forgotten about “the rest of us, the ones who ain’t as strong as you.”

“‘Cause you know as well as I do what happens when you knock that bastard out,” she says, implying the racial violence likely to erupt when a Black man defeats a white opponent.

“I don’t want you to lose,” she says. “I’m just afraid of what happens when you win.”

She has reason.

Ramirez’s stage directions call for the actors to face the audience, rather than each other, for the “fight” sequences. Rasell Holt provides the high-energy movement direction, including the fight choreography impressively executed by Alexander and Dontavius. The landing of their punches is vividly conveyed by sound designer Stephanie Farina and lighting designer Jason Lynch.

While his direction is lean and brisk overall, Phillips understands the value of slowing the show’s pace and embracing silence, which his superb actors expertly play.

While I understood the playwright’s reason for doubling one of the roles, it took me out of the moment. That said, Ramirez’s theatricality packs a punch and his writing — evidenced by Nina’s warning about a “nervous hand flirting with the grip of a knife” — has a plainspoken eloquence that suits this brutal “sweet science.”

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Location: Writers Theatre, 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe, 847-242-6000, writerstheatre.org

Showtimes: 2 and 7:30 p.m. Wednesday and Saturday; 7:30 p.m. Thursday and Friday; and 2 and 7 p.m. Sunday through Nov. 29

Tickets: Start at $35

Running time: About 85 minutes, no intermission

Parking: On the street

Rating: For teens and older; adult content, stylized violence