Two years ago, I had a play produced at Tarragon theatre called Cottagers and Indians. It wasn’t exactly a hit with most critics, who felt I didn’t milk the conflict between the Indigenous man who was sowing the Kawartha Lakes with wild rice, and the cottager who resented its infringement upon their recreational needs. They felt the antagonism between the two should have been more in their face.
First of all, it’s a play about wild rice. As a food source, it generally doesn’t generate a lot of anger. Secondly, the play turned out to be a huge hit regardless, being remounted last year, including a tour, with an anticipated five remounts next season. And thirdly, I just smiled knowingly. It was another case of using western European/Greek concepts of theatre to dissect and deconstruct Indigenous storytelling.
In our Indigenous theatre technique, we approach the use of conflict differently. Living in small family groupings for untold generations has given us a different way of dealing with dramatic disputes, which can and do differ from what evolved historically in European cities with populations numbering in the thousands or tens of thousands. Many times I have been approached by artistic directors curious about how I told a particular story, telling me there should be more “fighting” to draw out the drama and information. Unlike in Hamlet, most Indigenous plays don’t end with two-thirds of the cast dying.
The intersection of political correctness and Indigenous theatre
So it was no surprise when Yolanda Bonnell, author and star of the play bug, and Theatre Passe Muraille requested only IBPOC (Indigenous, black and people of colour) review her play, believing “there is a specific lens that white settlers view cultural work through and, at this time, we’re just not interested in bolstering that view, but rather the thoughts and views of fellow marginalized voices and in particular Indigenous women." It was a bold and gutsy move that had Toronto’s artistic community talking.
What Bonnell says is essentially true. Indigenous theatre by definition is known for pushing the envelope and asking difficult questions. It was conceived by a culture torn apart by colonization. And thus, it views Canada through a different, frequently darker lens. I have been in the fortunate position of having plays produced, and watched them with mostly an Indigenous audience and a non-Indigenous audience. While I believe both crowds definitely appreciated and enjoyed the tale I was telling, it was obvious those whose Turtle Island background went back several thousands of years tapped into a different understanding. Specifically, in a comedy, there was definitely more laughter. In fact, the stage manager of one play told me the running time was usually nine minutes longer with mostly Indigenous people in attendance. That’s huge in theatre time.
It’s an argument that seems to be catching on. In Winnipeg, the Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre seems to be of a similar mindset. They have been looking for local Indigenous writers to review Frances Koncan’s Women of the Fur Trade, which recently opened in their Warehouse space, but they have not excluded the colour-challenged critic. Instead, these establishment critics have been issued what appears to be a sheet of things to consider in their reviews. A cross-section of these topics include:
- What are the worldviews and tools that I carry with me as a critic?
- How can I recognize and shift the gaze and the ears that I am using when attending theatre?
- What biases or assumptions do I repeat without realizing?
- How can I develop the opportunity to listen, learn and act in relationship to potential cultural differences?
However, it should be pointed out that usually, in Toronto and most theatre cities across Canada and North America, the vast number of people who attend theatre are what we call, “people of pallor.” And usually older … “people of blue-tinted hair.” When I attended bug, my partner and I were the only Indigenous people in attendance. So an argument could be made I suppose that white reviewers are the Lewis and Clark of Indigenous theatre, white people making their way into unfamiliar territory, occasionally getting things wrong but setting stuff up for discussion. As Oscar Wilde once said, “the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.”
And to tell you the truth, I am not really aware of any Indigenous theatre reviewers out there willing to step up to bat and earn one of those lucrative play-reviewing paycheques. A thousand years ago I dabbled in the art of reviewing, limiting my experience to specifically books and theatre, but I quickly abandoned that career choice as the occupation frequently provides a no-win situation. The problem being we, i.e. the Indigenous reviewers, know everybody in our business. I had to review the books of Indigenous writers I had rubbed elbows with at these places called bars. Same with the theatre crowd. It was difficult and awkward. And my career short-lived.
Additionally, when writing for an Indigenous magazine, I and other contributors were frequently told “criticizing our storytellers and writers doesn’t do our community any good.” It’s true that being positive and encouraging is part of our culture, but I would like to think if somebody in our community made the movie Cats, we would not be any more forgiving.
Now for the moment let’s think of the poor settler reviewer. What with many major papers limiting their coverage of the local arts community, theatre reviewers will slowly be going out of business. If Bonnell’s not careful, the next Uber you take to one of these thought-provoking plays will be spent listening to your driver talk about the difference between Aristotelian and Brechtian drama.
Heaven forbid if Stratford or Shaw were to only want white reviewers to see their work, cause let’s face it, some of that old world theatre is kinda strange and difficult to understand. I’m still trying to figure out Waiting for Godot. I know turnips are mentioned.
Find out what’s new on Canadian stages from Globe theatre critic J. Kelly Nestruck in the weekly Nestruck on Theatre newsletter. Sign up today.