The Ebb and Flow of Resistance — KĀMAU A‘E at KKT

Has anything changed in fifteen years? 

Timtim, Murray, and Jaime Bradner as Lisa Kealoha
Courtesy of Kumu Kahua

That’s one of the questions I’m left with after seeing Kāmau A‘e, Alani Apio’s dramatic interpretation of the Hawaiian Sovereignty movement and its impact on one particular family. The play premiered at Kumu Kahua Theatre in 1997, three years after its predecessor Kāmau, which had its revival in 2007. In the program, the setting is listed as “Present Day”—today, as opposed to the present day of its creation, fifteen years ago. And so the question...has anything changed? What does the play mean today? Is it more or less powerful, relevant, accurate?

This may not be for me to answer, first, because I never saw the original production, and second, because I have only lived in Hawai‘i since 2003. It is, however, something this revival calls into consideration. Fifteen years is barely a teardrop in the grand scheme of things, but in mere human time, it could easily be considered a generation.

The play is set in the present, and the past, moving forward in time, while also slipping back, like waves in the ocean… A sense of repetition, of remembrance, of ghosts permeates. The intimate space seamlessly transforms from a prison cell to a house to a beach with only the subtlest of cues. There are no blackouts or scene changes to interfere with the unfurling of the drama in its many tendrils. Lighting helps to indicate when and where the action takes place, as does the use of different areas of the multilevel stage and alternative entrances leading to and from tangibly imaginable offstage locations. A palpable, immediate Hawai‘i. A real place with real people. And all too real issues.

Elevating the truth of this production are the performances of Charles Kūpahu Timtim and Sharon R. Garcia Doyle.

Timtim’s Michael Kawaipono Mahekona—the cousin in tune with his ancestry, the ‘āina, the old ways, a Hawai‘i slipping through the broken fishing net—is a bundle of raw nerve endings, and yet a kind soul, genuinely interacting with the audience, making one forget that this is an actor reaching for your hand. His sincerity is matched only by his pain—both are genuine.

In sharp contrast, Doyle’s Wainani Carson is a sovereignty activist with her head (not necessarily her heart) in the game: a politician, calculating, hardened. The dynamic between these two characters—and the rest of their “occupy” group—speaks to the movement’s diversity, as multi-faceted as its individual members, with as many reasons for fighting, both with the outsiders and one another.

On the opposite side of the land battle drama, William Murray plays Alika Kealoha, the other cousin, pragmatic and firmly footed in the present. By the end of the play, Alika’s reasoning breaks upon the storm and frenzy of Michael, his ghosts, and the media circus (though there is only one media character, the play manages to convey greater coverage, especially through the use of the audience). The resolution, like the whole, is open to interpretation, and different for everyone.

Wil T.K. Kāhele's direction is inventive and continually engaging. Parts of this drama are fun and playful, with moments of deep beauty—like when the Ghost of Tūtū Kane (played by William Ha ‘o) sings alongside his chosen one, Kawaipono, on the beach. But this is, at heart, an intense and emotional telling of the personal struggle and indomitable will of one individual against a sea of resistance, even from those supposedly on the same side, to kāmau a‘e—to carry on.

In the end, it’s difficult to say whether Michael Kawaipono has carried something forward or has himself remained behind to carry on with the ghosts.