The nuclear family branches out in The Oldest Boy

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At a time when helicopter parents continue to hover over their kids at college, playwright Sarah Ruhl’s The Oldest Boy has a refreshingly different flight plan. Beyond offering views of the parent-child relationship, the play, directed by Cynthia Levin at the Unicorn Theatre, takes a look at how we attach to — and detach from — one another and the world. It isn’t a deep meditation, but it’s an often amusing look at the human and spiritual connections we make.

At the center of the story is the quirky “Mother,” who is having a go at meditation when we meet her. As played by Katie Kalahurka, who impressed a year ago in Spinning Tree Theatre’s Ghost-Writer, she holds our attention better than she’s able to control her restless mind.

Shortly after Mother gives in to distraction, two Tibetan priests — a lama (Wai Yim) and a monk (Thomas Tong) — ring at her door. Their visit has to do with her 3-year-old son. How they’ve learned of the child isn’t exactly clear. And when Mother’s Tibetan-born husband returns home, his lack of surprise at the priests’ presence speaks either to his character’s Buddhist faith and knowledge of such occurrences or to the actor Vi Tran’s calmer stage presence. Where the script affords
Kalahurka’s Mother bursts of emotion and an inquiring mind — animated by the actress’s focus, sensitivity and energy — Tran’s Father comes off as all reason and reserve.

Yim, whose lama is addressed with the honorific title of Rinpoche, is excellent as a religious teacher on a quest. He elegantly balances his character’s own wish — to find his reincarnated teacher — with a respect and care for these parents of Tenzin, the child (depicted in the play by a puppet) he has come to investigate. The lama’s own desires lurk just behind his tranquil aura. And as the monk who assists him, a very good Tong brings humor and wonderment.

The student-teacher bond is as central here as that between spouses or between parent and child. And the lama isn’t the only one searching. Mother, who gave up a career in academia after her own teacher died (the reasons for which we learn later), looks for answers as she considers giving her son up to a teacher in a monastery far away. The biblical story of God telling Abraham to sacrifice Isaac enters her mind. “Just joking!” she says of God’s command. But what of the request made of her? “Americans like to choose things,” she says. What will her choice be?

The Oldest Boy plays like the Dummies’ Guide to Buddhism, but it’s a pleasantly diverting look at the intersection of East and West in this family, and at the way bonds form and hold. In a skillfully orchestrated flashback sequence, we see the parents’ first meeting and wonder: Was it predestined?

Alex Espy, who shadows the puppet (made by Mike Horner, of Mesner Puppet Theater), voices the child’s lines and helps puppeteer Andi Meyer with its operation. On opening night, the puppet’s workings appeared awkward. For most of Act 1, my focus was on Espy and Meyer, not on what looked to be a ventriloquist’s alter ego. I couldn’t help recalling War Horse. Though an unfair comparison — that puppet’s construction had massive resources of people, time and materials — the puppeteer in that play quickly became a nonentity. Here, it was Act 2 before I could merge the effective Espy with the child he helps portray.

For those moments when a Tibetan language is spoken, subtitles are projected above the stage (design by David Kiehl), making for a fluid transition between tongues. Sarah White’s functional and stylish set incorporates Asian-inspired sliding panels for doors and walls, giving way in Act 2 to an open-air vista. And costumes by Ian R. Crawford beautifully reflect culture and place.

This first show of the Unicorn’s 42nd season may not delve very deeply into the nature of culture or make strong statements on the influence of faith, but the playwright’s musings and lines of inquiry were enough to arouse my interest — and instigate some temporal ponderings of my own.