‘Black Elk’ actions speak louder than words at Mark Taper
Forum
Play presents powerful affirmation of Native American identity,
history
By Lawrence Sullivan
When theater speaks most forcefully, often the words spoken
import the least. Such is the case in the Denver Center Theatre
Company production of "Black Elk Speaks" at the Mark Taper
Forum.
The vision of the Oglala Sioux holy man speaks less through the
measured history book narration given by Ned Romero, as Black Elk,
than through the production’s sheer theatrical tour de force. The
fusion of lyric, percussion, dance, lighting, set, costume and cast
makes for an ecliptic experience that seems to engage our every
sense.
A percussion ensemble of four beats out mesmeric rhythms while
setting the mellifluous Lakota language to beautiful incantation.
The torch dancers, the show dancers and above all, Stephan Ray
Swimmer’s awe-striking hoop dance, invigorate the production.
This is not to say that John Neihardt’s account of Black Elk’s
vision, from which the play derives, is not an extraordinary
contemporary piece of poetic narrative. Rather, Christopher
Sergel’s adaptation for the stage, in collaboration with Donavan
Marley who would direct it, attends to the poem’s theatricality, of
which the linguistic is but an element.
Black Elk’s vision, which came to him as a young boy over a
century ago, is not about the search for identity. It is about a
reaffirmation of the identity that was never lost, only reserved
for a later time. The play chronicles the successive efforts of the
Native Americans to affirm that identity in harmony with the
European settlers, even as time passes and the reservations become
smaller.
Little Crow attempts to accommodate the European style of
diplomacy, as he cedes his head dress and dons a suit coat. Yet
appearances deceive, for the treaties that he trusts in are not
what they appear to be. Kenneth Martines fills the role with
forbearance, depicting the Santee chief of meek and peaceable
disposition, too good for his own good.
Black Kettle (Jack Burning) embodies mysticism to the point of
ignorance. Rallying his tribe not to fight, but to flock behind the
sacred red, white and blue flag that will protect them, they are
gunned down all the same by the very men who presented the
gift.
A decade later, after many agreements and betrayals, the tribes
unite for the first time as one people with a common vision.
A warrior with a genius for military tactics leads the braves in
their will to fight. His name is Crazy Horse. (Such is the cadence
of the narrative.) Peter Kelly Gaudreault’s Crazy Horse, in bursts
of energy and brazen courage sustains the crescendo of expectations
upon his appearance. Credit also goes to Marley’s choice to
introduce Crazy Horse high on the mount in ritual prayer (as Black
Elk appeared at the play’s opening) and lighting designer Don
Darnutzer’s mythical illumination. As a tactic employed by Crazy
Horse to infuriate the blue coats and tempt them out of their forts
to be ambushed, Gaudreault’s dances are worthy of his French
name.
Bated finally by a conciliatory treaty proposal, Crazy Horse is
instead murdered at the fort where it was to be negotiated. Any
member of the audience of European descent is sure to feel a bit of
a tyrant by this point. Or else we externalize our contempt
ignoring that in effect we scorn ourselves. This is the same sort
of operation by which the play wins cheap laughs with its invective
on Washington, politics and society in general.
The purpose of the play surely is not to incriminate a
collective conscience, but rather to relieve through enactment the
woe of a nation, which for many still abides. If there be moments
of hatred and disdain, they are entirely justified. The most tragic
tale of the evening, for example, is Jane Lind’s grievous account,
as Yellow Woman, of Colonel Chivington’s massacre of women and
children at Sand Creek. She later spurns and abandons her white
husband, William Bent (Stuart Bird), denying that white man has any
part in "her" son.
The lesson to all seems to be neither to feel guilty nor accuse,
but to affirm our history, whatever it may be, and keep our memory
alive. Should the tree of life grow faint, a new season will come
to rejuvenate it. In the spirit of cyclic belief, Marley’s
direction provides the flow from one scene to the next, sustaining
a momentum that yields only reluctantly to intermission. Under Bill
Curley’s set design, a large ring inscribes the stage of action.
Furthermore, Taper’s semi-circular design is not only convenient,
but essential both to the staging of the production and its call
for unity in the audience.
THEATER: "Black Elk Speaks" based on the book by John Neihardt.
Adapted by Christopher Sergel. Directed by Donovan Marley. Playing
at the Mark Taper Forum through Feb. 26. For tickets call (213)
365-3500.