The Toronto Theatre Review: Buddies in Bad Times/Native Earth Performing Arts’ The Born-Again Crow
By Ross (Mohawk/Scottish)
The actual, full title is a meaningful mouthful, much like the play, and as There is Violence and there is Righteous Violence and there is Death or, The Born-Again Crow gets underway, we realize we are being watched by a curious creature off to the right of the stage, beyond the picket fence that borders an edge to a dark oblivion. It’s a telling metaphoric framing, much like the line drawn around a reservation back in the day by a white privileged society determined to fence the indigenous population off from the colonizers. While also trying to force them to comply with their societal rules and ways of behaving. And the line here is as neatly defined as it has been for decades, with the rest of the cul-du-sac people out there, purposefully separated from the space that has been lovingly created for the central character. But as the light dims and the play begins, the black clad creature disappears into the darkness as the mother and daughter enter the sanctuary that was “all set-up” by the mother for her conflicted, traumatized daughter.
Written with a fantastical mysticism and humor baked in by Caleigh Crow (Hexen), the effect, especially in the first few moments, draws us in with its nervous but caring energy, of a mother, played strongly by Cheri Maracle (Mohawk/Irish; Native Earth’s Women of the Fur Trade), trying her best to engage with her troubled teenage daughter, Beth, portrayed powerfully by the very engaged Tara Sky (Haisla/Settler; Stratford’s Les Belles-Soeurs). Their connection crackles like rebellious static, but the care is clear and subtle, and the space as nurturing to humanity as it is to Beth. Yet what draws us in even deeper is the shocking mythical mutterings of a determined crow, played with full intent by Madison Walsh (Coal Mine’s Killer Joe), who has a lot to say to the fury that lives inside this young woman, and in that reveal, theatrical magic is delivered.
That crawing of anger that sizzles inside Beth is what many outside that fence are looking at and judging her for after having a very “public breakdown” at the Superstore where she once worked. Her mother is very worried yet cautious with her daughter, but Beth doesn’t want to talk about that right now. Instead, she’s content to feed her soul by filling a yard full of bird feeders put together by her mom and, in turn, forge an alliance with one particular bird that talks and engages in a way that connects and fills Beth’s belly with alignment and understanding. It’s a spiritual and mystical flight, this merging, as the play flaps its steady and strong black wings with an ever-increasing fury and flurry of symbolic gesturings and unpacking that overwhelms the stage and the space with its chaotic but thoughtful force and energy.
Directed with a chaotic but focused eye by Jessica Carmichael (Canadian Stage’s Hamlet in High Park), The Born-Again Crow flies hard and fast into a mixed bag of nutritious symbolism and metaphors, spinning us around with a dizzying determination that borders on crazy sharpness that is hypnotic and compelling. Jumping over the line of separation is a young man wanting to be her friend once again, but not just any young man. He has a problematic and traumatic history with Beth, which is both threatening and difficult to discern at first, about the world of men and the violence of the colonizers. They take without giving or asking, demanding obedience to their societal norms while oppressing and ignoring the needs of those ‘others’, without ever noticing their own accountability. As neighbor Tanner Braeden (& a few outrageous others), Dan Mousseau (Soulpepper’s The Seagull) gives the role, and all the others he plays, a wild electricity that is both attention seeking, but ultimately dangerous and disturbing. Sometimes a bit over-the-top, in the variety of wild roles given and the way he rolls himself out in them, his Tanner delivers the volcanic Superstore punch to the play in ways that should not have been so surprising, as they are all completely inevitable and obvious. And also increasingly traumatic.
The yard, though, as cared for by Beth, and created by set designer Shannon Lea-Doyle (Tarragon’s El Terremoto) with sharp lighting by Hailey Verbonac (Native Earth’s Niizh) and sound by Chris Ross-Ewart (Coal Mine’s The Sound Inside), becomes a safe feeding ground for the birds, especially the crows, flocking in increasing numbers for the substancence given. Yet the black-clad talking crow, costumed creatively by Asa Benally (Canadian Stage’s 1939), wants more from Beth than just contemplative wallowing and dog food. She wants Beth to expand and embrace her feelings, talk about what happened at the Superstore, much like everyone else who comes a-calling, and fight back for what was taken away. And when the walls and barriers finally collapse, and we see, in dramatic high fashion, what actually played out when Beth, in an act of empowerment and resistance, tried to “burn it all down“, the rage becomes a powerful tornado force, stabbing and smashing against all the ways this woman has been oppressed and abused by men and the society that surrounds her and her house on that cul-de-sac. And thanks to the solid work of fight director Jenn Dzialoszynski (Obsidian/CS/Necessary Angel’s Is God Is), The Born-Again Crow finds its fantastical, forceful wings to fly up high in wild abandonment.
“He shouldn’t have done that,” is the refrain that rings the alarm bells as the whole space is shot up and destroyed by the oppressors and the oppressed. It’s a wild, chaotic flight to the finish as we are reminded, quite entoxicatingly by the talkative crow, that There is Violence and there is Righteous Violence and there is Death, and we must demand that her fury, and our own, must be heard and acknowledged. Old-school forgiveness for the self is imperative, along with love, acceptance, and care, as we also demand the answer to the question, “Why does he get to do that?” And not pay the price. This crow has a few different ideas, and in this energized and wildly wonderful co-production by Buddies in Bad Times and Native Earth Performing Arts, attention must be paid; to The Born-Again Crow and the rage that lives within.
The Toronto premiere of There is Violence and There is Righteous Violence and There is Death or, The Born-Again Crow, is now onstage at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre (12 Alexander St), in a co-production between Buddies and Native Earth Performing Arts. For information and tickets, click here.
