Theatre in Review: Between Two Knees (Perelman Performing Arts Center)

	Photo: Jeremy Daniel

Between Two Knees introduces us to The 1491s, a self-described "intertribal indigenous sketch comedy troupe," whose work has been disseminated on TV, radio, and online. The show at the Perelman highlights the company's strengths and the limitations of its approach: it's an epic-length skit, a Brechtian lesson in the genocidal impact of Manifest Destiny, and a wisecracking indictment of white supremacy. That's a tall order, and everyone involved seems to know it: "Thanks for returning," says Larry (Justin Gauthier), our narrator, at the top of the second act. "I know it can be a real slog to sit through these diversity shows."

Working hard to avoid being a slog, Between Two Knees -- which is part-spoof and part-indictment - skips through a procession of distinctly unfunny events covering several generations. It begins in 1890, at the Wounded Knee Massacre, where Ina, a young mother, is among the dying. Her infant, Isaiah, is taken up by Catholic missionaries raising him to be a model of piety until he meets the fiercely rebellious Irma and they set off on a terror campaign against religious-run boarding schools. Later, settling down, they raise their son William, who ends up killed in World War II -- leaving behind his son, Eddie, who, raised by Isaiah and Irma, grows into a wild child. Following a bar fight, Eddie is arrested and sent to Vietnam. The narrative then shifts to Mickey, a sort-of shirttail cousin of Eddie's, who gets involved in the American Indian Movement and the Wounded Knee Occupation of 1973, hence the play's title.

It's a long and involved tale of violence, oppression, and intergenerational trauma given the Hellzapoppin' treatment; its tonal uncertainty is signaled early on in a sight gag featuring the partial dismembering of the dying Ina. The show excels at standup humor, much of it coming from Larry, who opens the show with a riotous spoof of the by-now familiar land acknowledgment heard in every not-for-profit New York theatre. (At the top of the second act, another member of the troupe urges us to make sure our cellphones are turned off, adding, sadly, "Our people have been through so much.") Alluding to the killing of Native Americans, Larry sardonically adds, "Can you imagine how hard it was to cast this play? We had to use a Chinese guy to play one of the Indians." (James Ryen, who is, in fact, of Korean descent, is a solid member of the ensemble.)

But, as it makes its way down through the decades, Between Two Knees cycles through various styles, looking for humor where none organically exists. Isaiah and Irma's campaign against boarding schools is depicted in slow-motion kung-fu battles, featuring "nunjas" wielding nun chucks. The young couple's decision to marry cues a lengthy sequence featuring Wichoni WhiteDove. "a Native American wedding specialist," intended, I guess, to spoof hippies who fetishize Indigenous culture. The scene in which Army representatives deliver the news of William's death is played awkwardly, and unsuccessfully, for laughs. At the oddest moments, characters are likely to burst into song. The plot gets sufficiently convoluted that it must be explained, at length, by Larry, who concludes by saying, "This monologue took me two freakin' years! Why didn't any of your people stop me?" In a show with a running time of approximately two hours and forty-five minutes, it's a question that persists.

The overlength is caused in part by the show's indulgence in various random sketch comedy ideas: These include a game show called "Wheel of Indian Massacres" and an after-birth ceremony in which an infant is bathed "in the tears of a thousand white women named Karen, gathered at their most vulnerable during their 911 calls against black families." A bit about Isaiah's scheme for plural marriage falls flat, as does a running gag about Rubik's Cube. Shtick abounds: Performers enter bearing signs that proclaim, "plot device" and "Indian prophecy." When someone complains about government red tape, an actor runs across the stage, dressed in a costume consisting of...need I say it? Everyone converges on Wounded Knee for a climax in which white people vanish from the earth, capitalism is abolished, and the gender binary breaks down irretrievably; it's a trifecta of the easiest applause lines in the New York theatre right now.

Eric Ting's direction strives mightily to maintain a fast pace and his cast is admittedly nimble, especially Derek Garza as young Isaiah and Eddie; Shyla Lefner as young Irma and Irene, Eddie's estranged mother; and Wotko Long and Sheila Tousey as Isaiah and Irma in their later years. Regina García's elaborate set design features a thrust stage complete with a red upstage curtain and a lightbulb-filled proscenium decked out with buffalos, coyotes, Indian maidens, and the Cleveland Indians' notorious Chief Wahoo. (Garcia also provides a Conestoga wagon and the interior of Isaiah and Irma's home.) Shawn Duan's projections update us on locations and time frames along with such effects as a comic news broadcast. Elizabeth Harper's lighting is glitzy (chases, ballyhoos) when appropriate and restrained when needed. Jake Rodriguez's sound design includes game show music, choirs, Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, and a disco version of Irving Berlin's "I'm an Indian Too." Lux Haac's costumes are faithful to each character and era, culminating in a surreal finale with LED-encrusted headdresses and space helmets.

Whatever one thinks about Between Two Knees, a co-production of Oregon Shakespeare Festival and Yale Repertory Theatre, it may have been a smart move for the Perelman PAC to book a show that so clearly attracts a young and diverse crowd. At the performance I attended, the audience often responded with hearty laughter to various shock-of-recognition gags. (There was also a record number of late arrivals, suggesting that patrons are still figuring out how to get to the Perelman's Financial District location.) It's high time: Native American theatre artists, such as Larissa Fasthorse, Mary Kathryn Nagle, and Madeline Sayet, are only beginning to break through and there's plenty of room for more. Still, that doesn't mean Between Two Knees wouldn't benefit from ruthless cutting and a greater clarity of purpose. It's a numbing, scattershot evening that alternatively wants to amuse us and slap us around. It's stuck between two intentions, and it doesn't really fulfill either one. --David Barbour