Samedi

The winking, racially-intoned humour toward Native Americans and the parodies of American bravado cause double-edged laughter. Are we laughing because everyone’s a little racist-imperialist at heart, or are we laughing uncomfortably because our simplified, folkloristic understanding of the Indian question is mirrored on stage? To indulge stereotypes in order to expose their hollowness is a tricky strategy. Bloody may risk furthering the camp without advancing the conversation about American culpability and inculcated racism.

Jackson purloins a Native American orphan baby (a toy doll), and shares an erotic cutting session with his wife. But amid the comedy, the narrator jarringly relates the historical context (year, event, death toll of a battle, etc), ensuring that it's not all laughs. Some awkwardness is derived in part from the abrupt tonal changes, confusing the audience as how to respond, for example, to a serious interjection about lives lost in a battle while bereaved Indians exit the stage bickering in vaguely Chinese accents. The play’s humour is further complicated by a dirge of a song, “Ten Little Indians,” that in a nursery-rhyme style tells how ten Indians met their end. Again, the production is able to get away with such irreverence because the joke is on us and our uninformed conceptions of history.

Jackson’s gang and enemies - such as John Calhoun (Bob Murrell), Prince Provenzano (John Quincy Adams), Henry Clay (BIll Mader), Keith Claverlie (John Quincy Adams), Michael Krikorian (James Monroe) are a loopy, clownish bunch. No one has bothered to choose just one way to play ridiculous. Instead, voices, accents, and demeanors are in flux. Though entertaining, such changeable personas don’t help to build relationships on stage. The cast is a rowdy cavalcade of exaggerated white man swagger, an inexplicable bounty of hysterical homosexuals and dancing cheerleading prostitutes who unfortunately come off as female dull-witted cliches. Jackson’s wife, Rachel (Leslie Limberg), is one of the few on stage with sincerity as well as being the most developed female character. Because she is not a clown and doesn’t cavort like the others, this character seems displaced.

In another moment diverging from the histori-comedy mode, Jackson beholds a hazy vision of Native Americans on the Trail of Tears. It's a rare chilling moment of drama. This moment is important because it serves to reveal in what vein the mocking humour was intended; without it, the irreverence would just be irreverent. Here in Act II, the play attempts to minimize the silliness in place of Jackson finally experiencing introspection. He considers his legacy, his regrets and all the sacrifices.The rock star gets serious.

Though the play may struggle with the success of its multilayered, incessant winking, the cast shines in its execution of hilariously whimsical, physical comedy. In this realm, the cast is unified because a cohesive style begins to take shape through which the play’s message can reach the audience.

With Election Day imminent, this funny and bold retelling of Andrew Jackson will help remind you that somewhere beneath the branding and iconography of Obama and Romney are essentially two men, both probably a little crazy, who are just as human as the rest of us.