What does it mean to be an American? What does it mean to be a “white” American vs. an American “of color”? Such contentious questions have obsessed, not to say haunted, the republic since its founding, with profound implications for all citizens’ lives. The age-old debate is filtered through the Armenian American experience in Talene Monahon’s Meet the Cartozians at Second Stage. Though messy and ungainly in places, it succeeds in its aim of entertaining us while making us think: about an ethnic group to whom U.S. history has given short shrift, and about your own ancestry’s place in the fabric of American life.
We meet the Cartozians in two complementary acts across 100 years of experience. In mid-1920s Portland, OR, prosperous émigré Tatos (an assured Nael Nacer) has had his U.S. citizenship granted and then rudely revoked. As explained by idealistic Brahmin attorney McCamant (Will Brill), a long-held criterion restricts official status to “free white persons of good character” plus “persons of African descent.” Which puts Armenians in an uncertain category, particularly in an America First era of prohibition, Red Scares and suspicion of so-called alien elements.
The chance to establish landmark precedent hinges on whether those who fled their troubled land can establish Caucasian bona fides, to the humiliating extent of rolling up a sleeve to show off skin tone to a curious judge. (One amusing sequence has the lawyer trying to explain what “Caucasian” means, to those who literally grew up near the Caucasus Mountains and still haven’t a clue.)
[Read Michael Sommers’ ★★★★☆ review here.]
Yet definitions are hard to come by even within the Cartozian home. Son Vahan (Raffi Barsoumian, bull-in-china-shop excellent) insists that they are “100% white” though all agree he is the swarthiest, most alien-looking of the bunch. Tatos, practicing his testimony, is too honest not to drop ingenuous hints of essential difference, to the despair of assimiliated daughter Hazel (charming, period-authentic Tamara Sevunts), as grandma Markrid (Andrea Martin) contributes salty quips and sweet ethnic desserts from the sidelines.
Things are left unsettled when act two pivots, a century later, to Glendale, CA and the home of activist Leslie Malconian (Susan Pourfar, razor-sharp), where a special Christmas episode of America’s favorite reality show Meet the Cartozians is to be taped. (And yes, the famous family of scandalizers and influencers that begins with “K” is precisely what we’re meant to think of.) While a “glam crew” labors upstairs, a cross-section of ethnic reps waits to bring awareness of Armenian culture and food to the reality star’s delectation.
Well, the shit hits the fan early. Technician Alan (Brill, again outstanding as the inquisitive outsider) wonders where exactly Armenia is – Europe? Asia? the Middle East? – and the guests, not to mention Google, all disagree. The act one debate over what’s the “right” date for Christmas (12/25 or 1/6) flares up again; and in both acts, the Armenian genocide of the early 20th century, denied by Turkey to this day and little known stateside, is never far from anyone’s mind.
But no topic is as heated as a proposed new category on the U.S. census form, enabling those of their descent to not reflexively check off “White.” “Armenians are not white,” exclaims Leslie, who prizes their distinctiveness. “For God’s sake, of course we’re white! Look at us!,” replies old-school Rose (Martin). “Umm, I personally would say that we are not,” opines punctilious professor Nardek (Barsounian). The irony here won’t be lost on any spectator, particularly when affable Alan’s musings about being called “Black Irish” are ridiculed. “So let me get this straight,” he seethes. “The original Cartozians fought to be white so that Armenians could have privileges, right? And now, it sort of feels like Armenians are fighting not to be white…so you can like, get more privileges. Am I right about that?”
The battle rages on, to a draw of course because none of these issues has ever been, and probably can never be, definitively settled. But they resonate beyond Armenia, touching any ethnicity that finds, or has found, an uncertain welcome under Lady Liberty’s torch.
The production looks and sounds first rate. Tatiana Kahvegian’s warm, traditional box set for act one contrasts effectively with the expressionistic touches in Leslie’s house, and Enver Chakartash’s costumes are ideally chosen for each era, particularly when the TV guests are uncomfortably squeezed into allegedly Armenian garb that makes them feel like Hallowe’en. Your comedy is always in superb hands when Andrea Martin is around, and director David Cromer has lost none of his knack for bringing out the unexpected ebb and flow of emotion and behavior in everyday life.
Diverted as they are, some audience members will likely wish for more closure in the play’s themes and subplots. If there’s sentiment that several of the scenes could be trimmed, I can’t disagree. Still, there’s no denying the poignancy of Monahon’s coda, which simply and delicately brings two Armenian Americans together on the most basic human level. Which is surely where we should all have been meeting Cardozians, and each other, all along.
