They Don’t Talk Back

Reviewed by Neal Weaver
Wells Fargo Theatre at the Autry Museum of the American West
Through March 20

RECOMMENDED 

This world premiere of Frank Henry Kaash Katasse’s They Don’t Talk Back is produced by Native Voices at the Autry, a theatre company dedicated to developing new theatre works by Native American playwrights, and supporting the talents of Native American actors, writers, musicians, and directors.

Both Katasse and composer-choreographer Ed Littlefield are members of the Tlingit, an indigenous people residing along the Pacific Northwest Coast. Their name, as befits those who often rely on fishing for their livelihood, means “People of the Tides,” and their culture provides the background for Katasse’s play.

Half-white, half-Tlingit, 17 year-old Nick (Román Zaragoza) has grown up in Juneau, Alaska, and has largely assimilated into mainstream American culture. He’s addicted to rap music, low-slung Levis, and video games. But his mother, who’s currently incarcerated, is a junkie, and his father Tim (Brian Pagaq Westcott), is a homeless army veteran who returned from Kuwait with PTSD and is too emotionally unstable to hold down a job. So Nick is sent to live with his Tlingit grandparents in a remote Alaskan fishing village, where he experiences profound culture shock.

Nick’s grandfather, Paul (Duane Minard) is a stern, unpredictable authoritarian, though he can be unexpectedly generous. He makes it very clear to the younger generation that if they talk back, they risk facing his wrath. His wife Linda (Jennifer Bobiwash), is a devout Christian, generous and gentle, though she rules Paul with a firm but loving hand. She also has an undefined affliction that causes her considerable pain. And Nick’s teenaged cousin, Edward (in a rich and lively performance by Kholan Studi), also lives with the grandparents. After some initial hostility, the two boys become friends, and both are put to work on Paul’s fishing boat.

The early scenes are largely episodic, and deal with daily life in the grandparents’ home: Paul’s odd disciplinary measures, the growing friendship between the two boys, a visit to church. Later, there’s an unexpected visit from Nick’s father, Tim, who recalls his traumatic time in Kuwait. The scenes are interposed with vignettes of Tlingit culture, including songs, dances, folk-tales and legends, and rap songs performed by Nick and Ed.

In later scenes, the tone darkens. Linda’s affliction — probably cancer — grows worse, but she resists seeking medical treatment, relying instead on the strong but vain ancestral belief that a potato, pressed to the chest, will draw out the sickness. Her illness precipitates changes.

Katasse’s rich but sprawling script exposes us to the elements of a seldom-seen culture, and does it with considerable skill. Director Randy Reinholtz has assembled a cast of Native American actors who bring their own awareness to the material. Zaragoza nimbly sketches the arc of Nick’s growing awareness, as cynicism about his primitive and old-fashioned grandparents shifts to a realization that they have a strong spirit and wisdom of their own.

Minard captures Paul’s strength and solidity as well as his deep love for Linda. Bobiwash suggests Linda’s simplicity and sincerity, while Wescott ably reflects a man deeply damaged by war. And Studi finds much comedy and goofy eccentricity in Ed, the boy whose only longings are to continue his life as a fisherman, and to protect and help his loving grandparents.

Composer-choreographer Littlefield provides a rich array of Tlingit songs and dances, and projection designer Tom Ontiveros supplies a vivid and colorful assortment of photographs of Alaskan landscapes and Tlingit life and art.

Native Voices in association with La Jolla Playhouse and Perseverance Theatre at Wells Fargo Theatre, The Autry Museum of the American West, 4700 Western Heritage Way, Los Angeles. Thurs.-Fri., 8 p.m., Sat., 2 & 8 p.m., Sun., 2 p.m., through March 20. (323) 667-2000, ext. 299, or www.TheAutry.org/NativeVoices. Running Time: Two hours with one 15 minute intermission.