Nagasaki Dust

By DENNIS HARVEY

A TheatreWorks presentation of a drama in two acts by W. Colin McKay, story idea by McKay and Jim Isida. Directed by Jules Aaron.

John Okui ... Michael Ordona
Lt. Chuck Randolph ... Paul Mackley

Colin McKay has come up with an intriguing fictive frame for examining World War II Japanese-American internment and collaboration issues in "Nagasaki Dust." But in its West Coast preem, the play buckles under combined dramaturgical and production excesses. This potentially powerful story needs a much simpler focus from all quarters.

Script is loosely inspired by the cases of various Japanese-Americans stranded in their ancestral homeland at war's outbreak, then tried for treason by post-conflict Allied tribunals. (Most famous was radio propagandist Tokyo Rose, who pleaded coercion and was granted official pardon years later.)

Such is the fate of John Okui (Michael Ordona), a California flower-grower's son and UCLA frosh returning his mother's ashes to her native Japan. His voyage home terminated by the events at Pearl Harbor, John must choose between prison and Imperial Army service. He accepts the latter, where his bilingual skills are put to use translating intercepted Allied communiques and overseeing a POW camp.

After the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, John has much to answer for: Yank soldiers and Nippon officers alike finger him for everything from black-marketeering to a U.S. officer's execution. He claims, conversely, that he did everything possible to save lives on both sides.

Principal dynamic here echoes "A Soldier's Play" and "A Few Good Men," as the angry protagonist slowly convinces an Army lawyer of his innocence. Lt. Chuck Randolph (Paul Mackley) sees this case as one he'll defend "fairly" but lose, aiding career advancement. Besides, the attorney, born poor, resents Okui's comfortable upbringing, and at first believes him guilty as charged. And Allied bigwigs want that verdict badly: It will help justify the controversial wartime treatment Japanese-Americans suffered back home, where they were sent to internment camps or otherwise relocated to thwart "subversive" activity.

McKay breaks up the two protags' predictable journey toward shared respect via myriad flashback strands. We see Okui learning about prejudice the hard way in his bourgeois Southern California youth; conversing with a stereotypically wise father; aiding the Japanese prostitute he falls for; finding covert ways to undermine the Imperial Army's efforts and protect his POW charges.

Jules Aaron has traffic-directed these elements to fluid effect on Joe Ragey's stark, resourceful set. But the narrative overload is echoed stylistically: Taiko drumming, Butoh-style dream scenes of carnage (choreographed by Yuriko Doi), masks and Kabuki-style black-clad scene changers all add exotic notes that distract more than they add to the conventional central drama. Some striking tableaux have impact. Others are just ornate and silly in the context, reducing such weighty topics as A-bomb atrocities to performance-art affectation.

The script's missteps are more serious. McKay's biggest sin lays in his eventually attributing so many neck-risking good deeds to Okui -- going so far as near-telepathic anticipation of the Nagasaki hit, which leads him to hustle Allied POWs underground -- that Act 2 grows absurd. The ethnic and national loyalty themes on tap are strong enough in plain address to make such gratuitous melodrama both unnecessary and reckless.

Mackley could nuance Lt. Randolph's evolution in much less glib terms; Ordona remains tautly focused as Okui throughout. The rest of the company does variably by often one-dimensional roles. Craig C. Lewis and Randall Nakano (in Allied/Axis spins on the Jack Nicholson role in "A Few Good Men") fare best, alongside an impressively multicast Mark Phillips. Tech elements are up to TheatreWorks' usual high standard.

Sets, Joe Ragey; lighting, John Rathman; costumes, Fumiko Bielefeldt; original music, Yukio Tsuji; choreography, Yuriko Doi; sound, Aodh Og O Tuama; fights, Bob Borwick; stage manager, David L. Coffman. Artistic director, Robert Kelley. Opened, reviewed Sept. 25, 1994 at the Center for the Performing Arts; 600 seats; $ 25 top. Running time: 2 HOURS, 15 MIN.

With: Darren Bridgett, Darrow Carson, Conrad Cimarra, Joseph Dones, Kinji Hayshai, Craig C. Lewis, Randall Nakano, Mark Phillips, Lawrence Tho, Diana C. Weng.

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