Susan Kelechi Watson, Crystal Dickinson, Lauren E. Banks, and Adrienne C. Moore in The Blood Quilt. Photo: Julieta Cervantes

Handmade quilts, which lie at the intersection of functionality, art, and craft, are part of the fabric (forgive the pun) of American history. They are especially intertwined with the African American experience. Enslaved Black people made quilts for white slaver families, and for themselves and their loved ones. Blood Quilt, a new play at Lincoln Center, explores some of that history and also the present, looking at the communal aspect of one family’s quilting.

The story takes place on a fictional island off the coast of Georgia during a thunderstorm, where four half-sisters— “Naw, we sisters. Kinfolk,” says Clementine, the eldest (Crystal Dickinson)—have gathered at their mother’s house for their annual quilting circle, three weeks after their mother’s death. In addition to Clementine, there’s Gio (Adrienne C. Moore), Cassan (Susan Kelechi Watson), and Amber, the youngest (Lauren E. Banks), along with Cassan’s daughter, Zambia (Mirirai),

There are many revelations over the course of the two and a half hours. Among them, the women’s mother was deeply in debt and the sisters are in danger of losing her house at a time the island is gentrifying; if they can save the house now, it will be worth much more in a few years’ time. Amber, a lawyer, advocates selling the family’s collection of quilts, which will cover their debts, leave them all a healthy inheritance, and buy the time they need for the house to accrue value. Clementine, who lives in the house, wants to let the house go and keep the quilts, which have been passed down from generation to generation. The sisters debate and learn each other’s secrets as they work to complete their mother’s last quilt design.

While there are some things to like in this production, Katori Hall’s script leaves a lot to be desired. Clementine’s point of view, that the quilts’ history has value, is poorly represented, making the central conflict feel one-sided. In fact, Clementine all but disappears in the second half of the play. And the all-or-nothing stakes feel artificial. Why not sell some of the quilts? Why not let Clementine, an adult, make her own decisions?

And then there are those revelations, which come fast and furious throughout the play. They certainly keep things rolling. We’ve hardly learned one life-shattering secret before we’re on to the next one. For a play grounded for the most part in realism, there is little emotional resonance from these life-altering disclosures. They feel like the “greatest hits” of long-held secrets from the past fifty years of popular entertainment; whatever your first guess is regarding the things that will come out, you’re probably right. Perhaps as a result, the revelations don’t feel intrinsic to the individual characters—I can very easily imagine a version of the piece where the women trade secrets, so Clementine gets Amber’s problem, Cassan gets Gio’s.

This is not to say the play is without merit. The characters’ secrets may feel ungrounded, but the family relationships have real depth. I believe Gio and Clementine grew up together. I can feel Zambia’s admiration for Amber. Hall also teaches an awful lot about how quilts are made, information I truly appreciated. And the sections that delve into each quilt’s history are fascinating. The play lasts well over two hours, but the second half, filled with revelations, goes by quickly.

Director Lileana Blain-Cruz gets strong performances out of all her actors. Moore’s Gio is funny, larger than life and still convincing. And Watson gives a fine, grounded performance as Cassan. However, there is a tonal shift for one scene near the end of the second act that comes out of nowhere and I still don’t know what to make of it.

The set by Adam Rigg, like Palmer Hefferan’s sound design, creates a convincing, if slightly over-the-top, home for the action. The quilts, front and center, are so beautiful they threaten to steal the show. Jiyoun Chang has lit the action well and Montana Levi Blanco’s costumes suit the characters, especially Gio’s busy, crazy outfits. In contrast, the projections, by Jeanette Oi-Suk Yew, feel unnecessary.

One aspect of the central conflict still puzzles me. Amber places more importance on not being cheated, on getting the house’s full value, than she does on Clementine’s wishes or retaining the family’s heritage, a viewpoint the playwright seems to endorse. While I fight against my own tendencies to invest emotional significance in objects, the play’s message is that history (in the form of historical objects) should be discarded in favor of getting paid what one deserves. I left the theater feeling the sisters had won a hefty payday in the short term, but worried about the long-term implications of auctioning off one’s heritage.