Review: Actors vocalize essence of humanity
By Alex Wen
Nov. 19, 2003 9:00 p.m.
In “N*gger Wetb*ck Ch*nk,” the rapid-fire,
genre-defying tour de force that played in front of a fully-packed
Freud Playhouse this past weekend, UCLA theater, the homegrown
variety that is, might have finally found a voice truly to call its
own.
And, boy what a voice it is. From the deepest pang of pain to
the purest beam of joy, the self-dubbed “vocal
minority” stepped on stage to make relatively easy work of
what the average college curriculum has long belabored to deliver
““ the heart and soul of what it means to be human. And even
if “N*gger Wetb*ck Ch*nk” didn’t quite provide
all the answers, a glorious, all-affecting audacity was present in
the attempt.
A powerhouse of political theater, “N*gger Wetb*ck
Ch*nk” is as hard-hitting and unapologetic as it gets.
It’s also downright funny to boot. The UCLA trio of Rafael
Agustin, Allan Axibal and Miles Ellington Gregley could easily be
anyone’s classmates ““ the guy with the wicked sense of
humor seated in the back row as well as the nerd sitting in the
front row. Together on stage, they are like fireworks on a
midsummer’s night.
The show, presented as a non-linear series of loosely connected
monologues, skits and vignettes, is a complex collage of personal
angst and disappointment, happiness and hope. At its core, it is
also an urgent, impassioned plea, a call for racial harmony and an
end to bigotry and ignorance. While the topic is understandably
dicey, it’s also cleverly and carefully wrapped under the
saccharin coat of pure candy-cane comedy. (There’s even a
skit on Black Santa Claus thrown in for good festive measure.)
It’s all very much like when the “N*gger”
character (the irrepressible Gregley) calls it when he hilariously
declares himself “a chocolate dream wrapped in a
rainbow.”
The overall charm of the performers disarms any potential
flashpoint. Quiet, soul-baring confessions, angry rants, Zen
Buddhist meditations in a hip-hop groove all meld seamlessly
together. There’s something undeniably endearing about
laughing at one’s self-parody, and that is something
“N*gger Wetb*ck Ch*nk” does very well.
There is a sequence toward the end that smacked of an attempt to
sneak in a bit of hard-sell under the radar ““ a plug for the
genetics research of R. Spencer Wells and the theory that all men,
regardless of skin color, may have originated some 60,000 years ago
from a common source, the San Bushmen of the African Kalahari.
Wells’ theory is fascinating, but of the sort best left to
the program notes. This was the only preachy patch (a minor gripe
really) in an otherwise near-perfect performance.
The questions remain though: Will Americans ever learn to truly
love each other? Will the blue-pill press ever print “N*gger
Wetb*ck Ch*nk” without the asterisks? Will MTV or the bright
lights of Broadway be next for UCLA’s new-found heroes?
-Alex Wen
