Review: KĀMAU TRILOGY at Kumu Kahua Theatre

What to say about Alani Apio’s magnum opus, returning to Kumu Kahua 30 years after its debut?

What to say about a trilogy that speaks to the heart of our lived experience, holds the mirror up, yet offers few answers?

There’s no more poetic way to describe experiencing the trilogy better than with the words of one of the characters in Ua Pau themselves: “Ho, brah! WTF!”

Watching the three short plays unfold under the looming fishnet covering the ceiling and back wall of the theater (part of Brian Lee Sackett’s beautifully simple stage design), I was struck most in realizing that the Hawai’i of 1994 faces the exact same challenges as the Hawai’i of 2024. There is a timelessness to the trilogy that makes the audience reflect on how perennial our questions of identity, kuleana, and generational trauma seem to be. And save for some smart phone use and hijinks with WiFi passwords in Ua Pau, there is little to cement any these stories into a specific era or decade. This is a sobering thought, to be sure, as we like to think that we as kānaka have made significant progress in our fight for self-determination and agency over the years (which indeed we have). But there are always more battles to fight, both within and without, and many of our collective bogeymen haven’t died off so much as respawned, wearing new faces and using new language, but haunting us nonetheless.

Speaking of haunting, I was especially drawn to the downstage left corner of the stage in each show, which I came to refer to in my head as the “trauma corner”. In Kāmau, it is the space in which Alika (Kahiau Machado) speaks to the ghost of his mother (local powerhouse Lelea’e “Buffy” Kahalepuna-Wong), who never quite ascends to the stage, but is forever watching in the blue shadows. In Kāmau A’e, it is Tutu Kane’s ancestral fishing ko’a (and often Tutu himself), which occupies the corner, a constant reminder of what is truly at stake as Michael (in a truly incredible performance by Stuart Featheran Jr) and the Hawaiian sovereignty group ‘Ai Põhaku square off against an increasingly conflicted Alika. And finally, in Ua Pau, it is the dinner table chair occupied by the abusive Kealoha patriarch—first by Alika’s father (James Keawe Bright), then later by middle-aged Alika (Charles Timtim) himself. This focal point—a kind of piko in its own way—was a powerful reminder of the cycles of pain and the ever-increasing burden for the subsequent generations to carry. While not all of Harry Wong III’s directorial choices were particularly clear, this focus provided a beautiful extra layer to the tapestry of these stories, as well as a physical/metaphysical center to tie all three plays together and bring the epic to life.

I could wax poetic about the cathartic moments of joy and laughter amidst the pain, the immersive pule and mini-luau before and during the intermission of Kamau A’e, or how instantly my eyes welled up hearing “When you’re in the ocean, you’re with your ‘ohana”, but I want to finish this piece with a simple but essential shout-out to the youngest performer in this trilogy, who absolutely blew me away with their performance. Harper Steele as young Stevie more than held their own against a seriously stacked cast of artists, setting up a truly vibrant and complex character in Kāmau for Maile Kapua’ala to expand upon as adult Stevie in Ua Pau. I personally hope we get to see more of Harper in the future, but no matter where their path leads them, that mana is strong.

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