Kelly McCreary and Pascale Armand Photo by Matthew Murphy

Simone (Kelly McCreary), raised in the United States but with family roots in Haiti, has decided to make an extended visit to her cousin Gigi (Pascale Armand), a native Haitian who runs an upscale boutique on the island. The two have seen each other infrequently over the years and have never gotten along particularly well, even as children. Still, blood being thicker than water, they both hope to become closer as adults.

The interactions between Simone and Gigi are as complicated as they are in any family, and their scenes together, along with the participation of a third go-between character named Pita (Jude Tibeau, an appealing scene stealer whenever he shows up), would make for a fully engaging play in themselves. The enthusiastic American who offers easy solutions for Haiti's complex problems vs. the Haitian who lives in a relatively upscale bubble and looks down on her cousin's naïve interference.

Morisseau is too accomplished a playwright (a Tony nominee for her book of the musical Ain't Too Proud and the recipient of a MacArthur "genius grant," among other honors) to fall into the too simple a pattern that the situation suggests. Nor does she want to turn her play into an ideological debate. But even as she carefully sidesteps falling into the trap of "tell don't show," she does want to cover a lot of territory about the complexity of life in Haiti (her father's family hails from that country), mostly involving social class and norms. But in an effort to cover so much ground, the play winds up taking too many shortcuts.

The best developed of these ideas, and possibly the easiest for general audiences to grasp, has to do with Pita. He is presented as a thoroughly sympathetic gay character who longs to be part of the queer community, though in Haiti that "community" tends to remain isolated and out of sight within a largely homophobic environment, making his situation both difficult and potentially dangerous. (Gigi feels an obligation to protect him; Simone wants to support his efforts to become more active in what is essentially an underground movement).

Jude Tibeau Photo by Matthew Murphy

Similarly, Morisseau introduces us to Lovelie (Fedna Jacquet), a former prostitute trying to eke out a living as a creative seamstress, whose work catches the eye of Gigi. Again, this is a complicated issue, in which Lovelie is working under the auspices of a non-government social service organization that is attempting to improve the lives of Haitians who are striving to pull themselves out of poverty. That, too, is an important story, but Morriseau has added an additional element. Lovelie is being sexually harassed by a man of financial power, and Simone wants to intervene. On the other hand, Gigi simply wants to do business with her and, by buying her beautifully designed pillows and scarves to resell to her upscale clientele at a hefty profit, help Lovelie financially while turning a blind eye to her plight.

Scene by scene, Morisseau offers up decidedly engaging dialog. And Jason Sherwood's set design and Haydee Zelideth's costumes do a terrific job of giving us the feeling of the locale, while the cast, under Tiffany Nichole Greene's direction, is altogether excellent. Still, the title of the play suggests that what it is going for is the connection between language and culture. Yet this is not really the path that is being followed here. The playwright clearly wants us to grasp at least some understanding of life in Haiti (historically, culturally, socially, politically), but we are left wanting and needing much more so that we can even begin to comprehend the implications of the difference between "Kreyòl" and "creole." There is a rich vein to be mined here, but the digging needs to be deeper and more thorough.