Redbone Coonhound: a pitch black comedy (another questionable choice of words)
18 Feb 2023

by Drew Rowsome - Photos by Cylla von Tiedemann

Redbone Coonhound is a comedy on the surface, there are a multitude of lines that induce gales of laughter, but it is also an incisive and brutal dissection of racism. And of the great difficulties we all have in discussing racism and recognizing it within ourselves. A couple, Christopher Allen (Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, Orphans for the Czar) and Chala Hunter (Lulu v7: Aspects of a Femme Fatale, Wormwood), are enjoying a stroll in the park. The tranquility is instantly upended when Allen asks her to hold his hand so that a group of speedwalkers won't think he is threatening her. The fact that they are an interracial couple hadn't initially registered—as a character notes later on in the play, advertising and television has made interracial couples commonplace—but the discussion that follows shows that tragically, and in this case hilariously, race does matter. There is never any question that the couple is committedly in love, but their viewpoints and history are always in conflict.

They encounter a couple of dogwalkers, Deborah Drakeford (Doubt, Human Animals) and Brian Dooley, who have a dog that Hunter is enamored with. Unfortunately the dog is more interested in Allen who is emphatically not a dog person. Even more unfortunately the breed of the dog is a Redbone Coonhound. As Allen exclaims, "How can one dog name have two racial slurs in it?" The dog owners are oblivious, Hunter rationalizes, and Allen is wounded and enraged. Joggers race by offering varying viewpoints that reflect their backgrounds and social status. It is a preview, from there Redbone Coonhound expands its cast of characters with riffs, ranging from outraged to comic, on systematic racism, racism, misogyny, and how words do matter. We also have the first of many very clever bits of dialogue that upends assumptions and worldviews: the dog owners describe acquiring their dog, unwittingly turning it into a blatant metaphor for slavery.

The scene blacks out, there is witty animation by Dezmond Arnkvarn that underlining key points, and we are told we are now in 1858. What follows is a delirious skit on slavery. The naturalistic acting turns cartoonish (with Allen and Drakeford contributing physical comedy worthy of Looney Tunes logic) and broad. Very funny and very disturbing. Historical reality and horrors are vividly illustrated with satirical bluntness. The underground railroad becomes literal and Harriet Tubman (Lucinda Davis) appears as a rapping superhero. Clever, disorienting and very to the point. This theatrical pattern continues with skits of a vaudevillian (once literally) or Saturday Night Live flavour, punctuating the continuing saga of the younger couple's relationship. The skits follow a historical timeline, climaxing with a futuristic Star Trek parody. While the meat of Redbone Coonhound is rock solid and intense, the skits vary wildly in quality and sometimes overstay their welcome after making their point.

There is also confusion as to whose fantasies or viewpoint the skits are meant to represent. The first is explicitly linked to Allen's character through a Nicki Minaj reference which is deeply vicious in context of  Minaj's own references to Tubman. The other skits are more tenuously linked which gives a start, stop feeling to the production. That is, until one realizes that there are so many viewpoints and arguments that even satirical fantasies become confusing. It brought me up short that I was applying my privilege to this production, and that every other audience member would be experiencing it in a slightly different manner. The words and history we use every day are steeped in racist and misogynistic roots. Being made aware of that is very uncomfortable. Begin made aware while laughing uproariously, even more so. And just now I was about to type that Redbone Coonhound is a pitch black comedy. An unfortunate or an appropriate choice of words? Redbone Coonhound is a dark comedy, in both definitions of the term, but what for me was a classification, was definitely a slur to someone else.

Playwrights Amy Lee Lavoie and Omari Newton (Angelique) are themselves an interracial couple but also gifted dialogue writers, placing ideas into witty and lacerating contexts. When Allen and Hunter are joined by three friends—Davis, Kwesi Ameyaw and Jess Dwyre—for drinks, the conversation expands from the connotations of the dog breed name to multitudes of hot button topics, all without ever losing momentum or comedy. These characters are articulate, passionate and outspoken. It should also be noted that everyone does double duty in the skits as a dizzying array of characters. Ameyaw tap dances, Davis rocks a startling afro, Dwyre smarms charmingly, Dooley dribbles and Drakeford is consistently a comic gem. Solid remarkable work from all, whether lobbing emotional bombshells or mugging with aplomb. And making the tonal shifts work. Director Micheline Chevrier utilizes the very flexible set with skill and even the initially awkward transitions pay off in a bittersweet finale. The demonstration of the futility of tackling racism is felt in the heart as much as the necessity of doing so resonates.