Southernmost

Reviewed by Stephen Fife
Playwrights’ Arena
Extended through May 6

Mary Lyon Kamitaki’s play Southernmost at Playwrights’ Arena does indeed take place in the southernmost village in the United States, identified in the Arena’s press release as Naalehu, Hawaii, population 866 people. The village’s name means “volcanic ashes” in Hawaiian, as it sits in the shadow of the volcano Pele — something that is crucial to the play’s setup.

The play tells the story of Charlene (Amielynn Abellera), only daughter of native Hawaiians Wally (Alberto Isaac) and Becky (Sharon Omi), who returns home to Naalehu with her white girlfriend Jessica (Kimberly Alexander). Charlene and Jessica have lived together for a few years in San Francisco and have visited frequently with Jessica’s family, but this is the first time that Charlene has been home in some years, as well as the first time that she has introduced Jessica (or any female partner) to her parents. The fact that her parents aren’t exactly on board with Charlene’s being gay is made clear right away when they insist that Jessica sleep on a tiny couch in the backyard rather than with their daughter in her room. Jessica is understandably unhappy with this, but Charlene begs her to go along, and she does.

Southernmost is part of that popular category (especially in this country), the homecoming story. The child grows up, goes out into the world, then comes back home a different person than when he or she left. The young adult must then come to terms with his or her parents and the conflicting values between them.

Some of the most effective examples of this have been twisted and absurdist — think Chris Durang and Nicky Silver. But Ms. Kamitaki plays it straight, in a style of lyrical realism that reminded me of 5^th of July and other plays by Lanford Wilson. This is Kamitaki’s first produced play, and that inexperience comes through in the change of tone from scene to scene, as the playwright searches for the bedrock of her own voice.

Veteran director Jon Lawrence Rivera does strong moment-to-moment work with the actors, but he can’t disguise the playwright’s struggle to make her dramatic points, especially where the two young women characters are concerned. Jessica, the girlfriend, simply puts up with way more discomfort and derision than I can believe in. Kimberly Alexander, fresh off of her mind-blowing performance in Stockholm, does everything she can with the role, but the writing is too generalized and there are too many holes to shore up. Who is Jessica? What’s her job, what are her interests? Why is she with Charlene? While there are some brief “answers,” the character often feels like a prop and afterthought, not fully imagined or explored.

The role of Charlene is better-written but still full of inconsistencies. Why is she so scared of her father? While he has trouble accepting her same-sex relationship, he has more issues with her having left “the tribe” and returned with a white person as her partner. But he is not an especially intimidating father, and the degree to which she’s hidden her real self and real life doesn’t really compute, especially when her mom is so supportive. Who is Charlene and what are her passions, hopes and dreams? I still don’t have a clue. The character feels unfinished, and what’s missing is the heart of the drama — a sense of what is really at stake here.

The most-fully developed character (interesting for a young writer) is the father, and Alberto Isaac does a masterful job of filling the stage with his moodiness and contradictions. A small man with a large personality, he dominates the stage and the other characters with his demands and his neediness.

What we need to see is Charlene growing in stature and finding a way to confront her father on his own terms. But this doesn’t happen. Instead the offstage volcano explodes, spewing lava that approaches their “southernmost” village. This creates a dangerous situation but it doesn’t enlighten us about the deeper issues that the play has raised.

Justin Huen contributes an evocative set and Lily Bartenstein’s lighting is so nuanced that it inadvertently highlights the absence of such shading and texture in the play. While Jesse Mandapat’s sound design has some strong elements, I could have used a lot more supporting sounds to bring alive this remote location.

Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater Village; Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 4 p.m.; Mon., 8 p.m.; extended through May 6. (800) 838-3006 or www.playwrightsarena.org. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.