Wolf Cub 

Reviewed by Lara J. Altunian 
Dragon Bait Productions 
Through October 13

When recounting history, the voices most often ignored are those that belong to ordinary people. Writer and director Che Walker’s play attempts to give a forgotten member of society—a mistreated and wily Southern woman—the chance to tell her version of growing up in the ’80s and early ’90s, but misses the opportunity to do so in an engaging and concrete way. Instead, the one-woman show is a disconnected series of adventures that substitute narrative quality with name-dropping popular and well-known historical events for the sake of seeming relevant.

Walker’s protagonist is the sly, independent, and disturbed Maxine (Devin Ketko), a character so thoroughly abandoned by her family and society that her name is never mentioned in the play. Raised by a father who abuses and blames her for her mother’s decision to leave the family, Maxine learns to fend for herself early on. Despite his general disregard for her well-being, he manages to teach her a few things, namely about wolves. Her fascination is kick-started by her encounter with a wolf cub in the forest during a hunting trip. She decides that the pup is her spirit animal, mentally transforming herself into the wolf when she needs courage to deal with the dangerous turns her life takes as she experiences everything from drugs and murder to LA-based riots and earthquakes.

Maxine divides her story into stages, first by age, then eventually by year, transitioning political and historical details mentioned in the background of her tale into the main events that supposedly mark her development. The beginning feels forced. Maxine jams sudden and random political interjections into her dialogue when she recalls her father’s conservative ranting and pieces of news she hears on the radio during childhood. As the hour stretches on, these events are thrown into the play even more haphazardly. Their inclusion slows down the plot, eventually taking on the appearance of footnotes that are meant to affect her character more than they actually do before she stumbles into the next strange situation in her life.

Wolf Cub’s pacing is made worse by the lack of storytelling elements. The only visual indications of a shift in mood are a few infrequently-used lighting cues (design by Nick Foran). The most exciting moment comes about halfway through the production, during a climactic freakout and breakdown Maxine undergoes at the peak of her insanity. The strobe light used in this scene is a welcome break from the more conventional cool and warm–toned spotlight effects that make up the rest of the play.

It isn’t long, however, before the audience goes back to listening to Ketko continue her speech in her seldom changing Southern drawl. Her accent is curiously alluring at first, especially when paired with her slow gait back-and-forth across the stage. The lackadaisical strolling dominates most of her movement, save a few “wolf-like” pounces and squats during her wolf cub metamorphoses. After a while, however, with few inflections in her voice to break up the monotony, her slurred tone may be enough to lull the listener into undue repose. Even with sudden flashes of loud swearing. Ketko’s chosen style of performance is not strong enough to carry the convoluted story alone, and the relaxed approach takes away from the more thrilling parts of Maxine’s odyssey.

Overall, Wolf Cub is unable to reconcile America’s story with Maxine’s in a fluid way, providing a disservice in the telling of the underserved within the country’s history.

McCadden Place Theatre, 1157 N. McCadden Pl., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; through Oct. 13. wolfcub.bpt.me. Running time: one hour with no intermission.