November Attempts Satire; Serves One Term Only

By Kassia Lisinski

Cedar Rapids— November, written by David Mamet and directed by Jason Alberty, opened this past weekend at Theatre Cedar Rapids. November promises good old poking fun at the incompetence of those in political office, but leaves the audience less with laughter and more with a lingering sense of having been ever so subtly cheated (which perhaps earns the play props for its realistic portrayal of politics). Although there were shining moments, mainly on the part of the actors, the show fell victim to making too light of too serious issues, falling back on insta-humor stereotypes for laughs, and, in the end, failing to satisfyingly resolve the story.

The play runs in the Grandon Theater, in the lower level of TCR, where the lights shine over a replicated Oval Office, slowly dimming as radio-quotes of the presidents of yore are played over the speakers. Illumination returns to the raging of President Charles H.P. Smith, played by Nathan Nelson, upset over the low polls, ranting to his lawyer, Archer. Not only are the polls terrible, but the president is taking home no money, no sofa, and no "presidential library." This bit turned into a phone rant for the next 10 minutes that felt more like listening to a mediocre comedian's monologue than anything else. Not worth a full guffaw, but also not worth heckling. At least Nelson's delivery was well-done, with no verbal foibles and enough animation to salvage an otherwise yawn-worthy diatribe. However, it is here that the thin ice of racial humor begins to be trod, as the president threatens to return Nantucket Island, on which Barry is located, back to the Micmac. It's funny, because it's probably rightfully theirs, and everyone knows jokes about how Native Americans were and continue to be screwed out of everything ancestrally dear to them make for pure hilarity. 

After establishing the conflict of the soon-to-be ex-president's desire for money and his assured failure at securing another term, the audience is introduced to the "Turkey Guy," played by Terry Tesar, whose mission it is to ensure that the birds (two, in case one dies) sniff the president's hand, and are thus pardoned; and  Bernstein, the lesbian and oh-so-liberal speechwriter, called in on her sick day off for shoddy "off-the-cuff" remarks and potential status as traitor to the U.S. (she just adopted a baby from China). The president and his lawyer plan to extort the Turkey Guy, basing the legality of this on some questionable math that I think was supposed to be funny, and the conflict eventually results in the president making money to buy airtime, and a promise to ruin the turkey industry by pardoning ALL of the animals. He tasks Bernstein with writing a speech for this purpose, to declare that Thanksgiving is actually wrong, an instruction which she initially feels morally obligated to disobey. At the close of the second act, Berstein is left entreating the president to do the right thing, to use her speech to declare that Thanksgiving is wrong for the RIGHT reasons, and to pay for the service of a wonderful work of words by marrying her and her partner, live, on TV. 

The writing, the lines, were often over the top. Although it is entertaining and furthermore useful to bring to light the prejudices of public figures, every legitimate call-out was countered with something like "You survived 2000 years without a country, you'll be fine!", to a Jew, or reference to the the Micmac chief Dwight Grackle, played by Steve Worthington, as "Tonto". I'm also torn by the several references to the "piggy plane," which takes people to indefinite detainment, torture, and likely death. Am I supposed to sympathize with a president and cabinet who do this? Should it be funny to laugh about something like that, when Adnan Farhan Abdul Latif, who was never formally charged with a crime, just became the ninth inmate to die at Guantanamo? 

Although most of the show was carried by the actors with much of the writing relying on forced rehashing of the same jokes, there were some gems in the line, such as the unexpectedly profound, "In America there are no solutions. Only rearrangement of problems." The production had some nice touches, especially in terms of props: I especially enjoyed the Turkey Guy's Chinese stress balls and antibiotic spray, and the audience loved Bernstein's "Wedding Singer"-esque bridal outfit. However, all parties went enormously over the top in addressing the Micmac chief. He arrived on set in a primitive frenzy, a white guy wearing a headband, animal skins, feathers, plaid and wranglers, etc. He carried a blow gun that was "wrapped in the hair of 15 virgins." I'm honestly startled he didn't start war-dancing, whooping, hey-yaing and "how"-ing, or make any reference to scalping. In a marvelous display of irony, the director, writer, and costume designer all seemed to forget that a major part of the play's plot was based in the injustice of Thanksgiving as an imperialistic holiday celebrating the subjugation of the indigenous Americans (in Berstein's approximate words), and proceeded to portray a Native American that could better fit the current stereotypes only if he were to be swigging liquor and brandishing a tomahawk as he arrived on scene.

I was a little upset about the production: the unskillful skirting of political correctness, the lack of character growth, the unsatisfying ending. Although there were plenty of issues addressed, it was done so poorly and without the courage to take a real stand so much as to echo current popular opinion. Also, there were loose ends to be tied up, and it seemed like it would be a simple job to end with all the ends tucked in again. True, the conclusion that the plot seems to imply would be somewhat rote: a clueless dolt redeems himself by learning to listen to others, and putting aside his own selfish wants and needs. Yet as frustrating as that pedantic ending and moral lesson might be, especially when figured out early on, it is so much more annoying to be denied any real conclusion at all.

November brings some interesting questions to light; maybe those with a different sense of humor could better enjoy the antics of the show. The play runs through October 13; tickets are $17.50—20 ($15 student, $10 rush, as available).