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Friday, October 25, 2002

By Christopher Rawson, Post-Gazette Drama Critic

Nurture is the name of the game at Kuntu Rep, now introducing us to a talented African-American writer with a future. Chadwick Boseman is from Anderson, S.C. (the same town as Javon Johnson), and is barely out of Howard. His "Hieroglyphic Graffiti" is a sprawling drama mixing family tragedy and mythic rebirth, overflowing with big ideas and passages of impassioned rhythm.

	'Hieroglyphic Graffiti' WHERE: Kuntu Repertory Theatre at Alumni Hall (old Masonic Hall), 4227 Fifth Ave., Oakland. WHEN: Through Nov. 2; 8 p.m. Thurs.-Sat.; 4 p.m. Sun.; also 11 a.m. Oct. 31. TICKETS: $12-$20; student, senior discounts; 412-624-7298.

Its basis is the Osiris-Isis myth, but "reading" the myth is difficult, because there are many variations to Osiris and Isis, depending on what cultural group is doing the reading and what early sources and later interpretations it uses.

In what little I know of ancient Egyptian mythology, Osiris is variously judge of the dead, creator, god of the Nile, husband of Isis and constant foe of evil in the form of Set, his brother or son. Most important, he is slain but returns to life -- a dying and reviving god like Adonis and Christ -- and he is revenged by Horus (the hawk figure). Isis seems to be a moon goddess, and in various versions Osiris and Horus overlap with Ra, the sun god, so the whole complex offers many opportunities for adaptation and transformation.

Boseman's is an Afrocentric version with many differences. But everyone knows family, and the contemporary story is gripping. In the past, Osi was a wild kid who killed a woman into whose family he was later adopted. He eventually marries his adopted sister, Isis, who has forgiven him, and he becomes himself an adopted father figure to Horus, another wild but talented young man.

As the play begins, Osi has been recently murdered and Horus and Isis struggle to understand what happened. Less eager is Seth, Isis' biological brother, who resented Osi's usurpation of his place as sole son and thinks he alone knows about Osi's long-ago murder of their mother. The setting, in Washington, D.C., a predominantly African-American city, is the family's shop, left to Isis and Seth by their father -- a heritage full of merchandise speaking of African culture.

The other remarkable presence is Hobart, the neighborhood shaman and graffiti artist whose art is full of African and Egyptian symbols and which reaches to the White House itself. ("The White House finally has some color on it!") Hobart prophesies great things for Horus and plays a magical role in the play's climax. The dead Osi is present, too, as either ghost or active memory. The central figure is Horus. He is the future, the dying and reviving hope of the new generation, the fulfillment of the recurring myth.

In the meanwhile, there's a murder to solve, hatreds to dissipate and a pattern of understanding and forgiveness to fulfill. Without suggesting any direct influence, I am struck by similarities to the shaman figure in August Wilson's work and to the forgiveness-redemption-martyrdom pattern in "King Hedley II."

"Hieroglyphic Graffiti" is lumpy because it's not always clear just where we are on the continuums of present-past, dream-recall, prophecy-wish. But along with having the heart to think big, Boseman can sure write. Inspired by grief and anger, Horus goes into an inspired trance and unleashes a fluid, Revelations-like rap soliloquy on graffiti expression being "like writing in tongues." Hobart chants rap prophecy, too, and Horus has a great speech about not knowing his father.

Boseman has himself directed a capable cast. Leslie Howard is an experienced, rich-voiced Hobart, Vanessa German's Isis and Erick Irvis' Seth provide emotional intensity, Haston Lowman is a strong presence as Osi and Robert Brown offers warm comedy as a neighbor. As Horus, Jayson Brooks of Point Park College has an impressive, ingenuous fervor.

Myth gives "Hieroglyphic Graffiti" its head, but the family drama is its heart. In the post-show talk-back that is a welcome feature of every Kuntu performance, Boseman acknowledged that the play's talk of "brother" refers to both family relationship and African-American unity, but to me it goes further. When Hobart wails, "How many times must I forgive my brother?," he reminds us we are all our brothers' keepers.