Theater review: KC Rep’s Brother Toad overshoots America’s gun culture
Every time there’s a Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Newtown or Parkland, Pulse, drive-by or Las Vegas, we Americans fall into grief, anger, angst, dismay. Or, perhaps, defiance.
In his new play, Brother Toad, part of Kansas City Repertory Theatre’s OriginKC: New Works Festival, Nathan Louis Jackson addresses how we think about guns — “Americans love guns more than apple pie” — and how we live with their pervasive presence.
It’s a broad subject for an 80-some-minute one-act, which also layers in the complexities of race and race relations. Jackson, KC Rep resident playwright and a skilled writer (including for television), has framed previous plays, too, around contemporary concerns and their dilemmas — sometimes with more success (When I Come to Die) than in others (Sticky Traps).
In this work (a “world premiere”), directed by Melissa Crespo, 18-year-old black high school student Marques (Donovan Woods) has “narrowly survived” being shot by a white man while sitting in a car with a friend, who was killed. As the show begins, Marques recuperates at home, listening to a sports-talk radio program hosted by his uncle, Randall (David Samuel), who announces an upcoming local march for safety from gun violence. Randall’s wife, Shayna (Shon Ruffin), is an organizer of this rally, though she can’t persuade Marques or his mother, Janelle (Shamika Cotton), to join in.
Marques and his mother are afraid. The man who attacked Marques was caught but claims a “stand your ground” defense, and he apparently remains free (and that’s about all we hear of him or the case). Their reluctance to attend seems to stem from other, unclear concerns, but it’s that fear, in its many forms, that is a thread throughout this work.
Shayna and Randall have sought security by moving to a home in Johnson County, but their white neighborhood doesn’t necessarily afford Randall a sense of comfort. Randall’s good friend Chris (Jude Tibeau) knows his way around weapons and is well-versed in self-defense, and his instructional firearms show-and-tell is one of the play’s most effective scenes. Do we need guns to keep ourselves safe? Jackson aims to pose questions, not answer them.
The well-drawn (and likable) characters — adeptly enacted by these actors — and the script’s comic relief are this narrative’s strongest pieces, but the people of this story can’t fully emerge from the thicket of points that Jackson tries to raise. As Marques readies himself to return to school, he prepares a speech for an important competition — yet this play’s dialogue, ironically, often presents as lecture, characters’ conversations as soapbox.
That it’s set in Kansas City is apropos. KC ranks high among cities with ongoing gun violence. And in an illustration of this metro’s racial divide, the march is planned for Leawood. (The number of people expected, 500,000, is another matter.) But the script, which delves into the plethora of emotions and politics around guns (and the damage they do), contains a too-crowded agenda and suffers a shortage of storytelling cohesion.
Brother Toad is a potentially provocative show — timely, relevant, touching a nerve — but even its abrupt resolution, on opening night, wanted for finer definition.
♦
Brother Toad
OriginKC: New Works Festival, Kansas City Repertory Theatre, Copaken Stage, 1 H&R Block Way (13th Street and Walnut), 816-235-2700, kcrep.org. The play runs through May 27.
