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Geronimo: Life on the Reservation
Reviewed by Jessica Salans
Whitefire Theatre
Through February 20
Actor Rudy Ramos stands on stage for sixty minutes, in three vignettes that mark the years 1886, 1893 and 1908, as the Apache Indian warrior, Geronimo. Ramos has a steady, carved face, tight lips and still, glittering beetle-black eyes. He stares directly into the audience, delivering playwright Janelle Meraz Hooper’s monologic story of Geronimo’s life as a POW on Oklahoma’s Ft. Sill Indian Reservation. Ramos hardly moves; it is a strange and fascinating spectacle in an age of constant stimulation and furious movement, although the intrigue tapers as he continues to wax and the delivery begins to feel repetitive.
The statements made, and even repeated twice or three times, are worth contemplating, however. The fact of the matter is, American history has been recorded mostly by privileged white men. A quote contained in the slim program of Geronimo: Life on the Reservation reads, “The white men will never tell the whole story. They control everything that is said about us in the newspapers and books. … Look closely. You will see if the soldiers won, it was a battle. If we [Indians] won, it was a massacre.” It made me think of the haunting lyrics from the hit Broadway musical, Hamilton: “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story.”
The story of America — land stolen from its indigenous people, an economy built on the labor of slaves, prosperity for the few gained by incarcerating and exploiting working-class families — is not to be found in classroom textbooks nor on the front page of the New York Times. Revealing these truths and crooked acts of deceit have been left to our storytellers.
As Geronimo, Ramos says in his second scene, “I am also sad because no one said they were sorry. No one likes to remember that.” This is in regard to the killing of men, women and children of his tribe; for stripping them of their land and herding them from New Mexico to Oklahoma. Should a government take on the responsibility of remorse? New reforms — such as the right for women to vote, ending segregation in schools, marriage equality — are passed, yet there is little to no reflection on the part of the governing body to admit wrongdoing or make amends for past injustices.
Geronimo’s statement that people do not like remembering times when their government acted maliciously evokes a line about a more recent crime from the outrageously important film, The Big Short: “Truth is like poetry. And most people fucking hate poetry.” Perhaps if the United States governed with a conscience, its citizens would follow suit. Perhaps we as a people would be more inclined to seek poetry and truth through a diversity of voices if we felt the leadership of our country believed in such holism. Although director Steve Railsback’s minimalist production often lacks luster and engagement, Geronimo tells the grim truth of a rarely heard voice from our country’s dark past.
Whitefire Theatre, 13500 Ventura Blvd, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423; Saturdays, 8p.m., through February 20. (805) 657-8117, geronimo.brownpapertickets.com. Running time: 1 hour.
