Letters to Eve

Reviewed by Neal Weaver
Miles Memorial Playhouse
Through November 20

Some years ago, I had the good fortune to direct a play about the unjust and unconstitutional      internment of Japanese-Americans after Pearl Harbor. I did a lot of in-depth research on the subject, and discovered what a rich and enlightening story it was — demonstrating the lengths to which frightened Americans could go to counter essentially non-existent threats, and the remarkable restraint and resourcefulness of the Japanese-Americans in horrendous conditions. So I had high hopes for Daniel Sugimoto’s musical about the internment and its consequences. It seemed particularly important at this time, when we are still reeling over the campaign threats of President-Elect Donald Trump to once again practice savage and unconstitutional measures against Muslims, Latinos, and other minorities.

But Sugimoto’s play is seriously flawed in several ways. To begin with, he has cast a very wide net, combining several plotlines. There are two basic narratives — one relating to the American internment, and the other dealing with Nazi concentration camps. This is an obvious parallel, but a false one. It is not excusing the imprisonment of Japanese Americans to say that, while reprehensible, it was not an event of the same magnitude as the Holocaust which, all told, represented the murder of 11 million people.

It’s hard not to feel that Sugimoto has undermined his own narrative by relying on his fanciful imaginary plot line rather than exploring the real facts, and by including too much of everything: too many plotlines, too many songs, and an overly long running time.

One narrative line in Sugimoto’s play deals with Ray (Melvin Biteng), a Japanese-American teenager caught up in the U.S. government’s relocation program, and his love for a girl named Eve (Andrea Somera). Another plotline deals with an African-American jazzman (John F. Thomas) imprisoned in the Third Reich, who is persuaded to give guitar lessons to a relatively humane Nazi, Dierk (John Chacon). (Is this justified by the history of the era? Until very late in the game the Nazis would scarcely have dared imprison an American citizen, and a minor celebrity at that. Wouldn’t deportation seem more likely?)

Pedantic insistence on historical accuracy can be destructive to the creation of a dramatic narrative, but that doesn’t justify distorting or ignoring historic facts. Yet here we see Nazi victims living in unisex barracks (which the Nazis would hardly have permitted), and prisoners possessing a remarkable freedom of movement in the highly policed camps. Could a girl actually get off scot-free after murdering a sadistic Nazi officer? The Germans were never as careless as that.

More serious still is the improbability of elements of the plot. We can believe that shyness and fear of rejection might have made Ray fail to give Eve the flowers he’s bought for her. But it’s scarcely credible that later, after his enlistment in the army, when the young couple has confessed their love, that he could still be too shy, insecure or overly scrupulous to mail the love-letters he has written. Yet this is a plot point on which much of the action hinges.

Sugimoto’s play has a lot going for it, including some nice songs and a large, enthusiastic and generally appealing cast. As Ray, Biteng ably and faithfully performs the material he has been given, and he does it with considerable charm. He can hardly be blamed if the writing sometimes makes him seem like a petulant dolt. Thomas also does fine work as Archie, while Chacon makes Dierk one of the subtler and more sympathetic characters, and Scott Keiji Takeda scores impressively as Ray’s friend Maki, providing much of the comedy.

But the play’s lack of focus, numerous plots, and overlong running time present problems that the co-directors, writer Sugimoto and Julia Lisa, are not always able to overcome.

An interesting sidelight: In this huge ensemble of more than 20 actors, only one is a member of Actors Equity, which may suggest things to come. If Equity is able to enforce its highhanded efforts to close down our local small theatre community, I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot more non-Equity productions, which I would happily support if that’s what it takes.

The Miles Memorial Playhouse, 1130 Lincoln Boulevard, Santa Monica.  Sat-Sun., 2 p.m. & 8 p.m.; LetterstoEve.com. Running time: Two hours and 45 minutes with one ten-minute intermission.