REVIEW: Tambo & Bones (Spooky Action Theater)
Where’s Aaron McGruder when you need him?
I can see why he’s not easy to summon. Why bother writing satire when (gestures broadly) is as ridiculous as it is? But it has been more than a decade since The Boondocks last aired (though without his involvement). The world in the Big ‘26 is as ripe for black voices in satire as it’ll ever be. Dave Harris, whose work was last seen in DC at Studio’s 2024 production of Exception to the Rule, is known for his sprawling explorations of Blackness as it pertains to the white gaze and within white power structures. Harris brings this lens back to the District as part of Spooky Action’s season of “Counternarratives”; and the result is a searingly funny and stunningly directed existentialist romp.
Book
The premise of this play should be enough to stoke at least some interest: what if two minstrel characters gained consciousness? Or better yet, what if they gained class consciousness? Over three parts (and two acts), the action follows Tambo, a dandy who just wants to take a nap, and Bones, a quarter-haggling bohemian. The first act begins innocently enough: some Looney Tunes-esque slapstick and fourth-wall-breaking crowd work. But it doesn’t take long for their relationship to run out of gas and come to the realization that they are merely characters, and pretty racist ones at that. That’s where the seeds of reflection get planted, entering familiar Waiting for Godot territory before exploding into a jungle of outlandish ideas that seemingly only serve to provoke — arguably its best quality. As Tambo & Bones explore their ultimate fates, which include direct violence to the playwright himself and (exactly) 131 oft-comedic uses of the N-word, the subtext intentionally loses itself into a cosmic stew of performativity and earnest escapism. The second part explores this the most creatively as the two become rappers and take over the world a-la 2004 Outkast, and the show becomes an interactive concert. Tambo & Bones’ raps aren’t the most skillful bars you’ll hear, and there is too many for one act to fit, but they are often laughably silly and cleverly cover a slew of recognizable rap figures and genres. (I’m telling my future kids that Tambo’s more “conscious” number, ‘War’, was in To Pimp a Butterfly.) But are they just as complicit in minstrelsy here, as street-running “money/hoes/jewelery” gangster personas, as they were in their more brazenly mocking fin de siècle roles? There’s an intermission after their rap takeover, and the third part occupies the final part of this tryptich, which is more of a meditation that I’ll opt not to spoil entirely. It it pushes the meta to supremely majestic lows, transitioning from Godot into darker Topdog/Underdog territory. By this point, the matrushka doll of storytelling begs the question: is it possible to be too woke to take a nap? 9/10
Acting
At opening night, Spooky Action’s artistic director Elizabeth Dinkova declared that Deimoni Brewington (Tambo) and Jeremy Keith Hunter (Bones) were essentially born to play these roles. I’d like to concur.
Brewington has always had a natural skill for physical humor in prior shows. His Tambo leans into this very early on, which skillfully sets the stage for his showlong transformation into a more layered and driven Romulus to Bones’ Remus. By starting from -1 on the character’s general volition scale, it makes the jump by Act III all the more impressive, and the line between play and reality that much less distinguishible. Hunter, additionally, is kingly from the get-go, and only grows stronger as the dramatic elements take up more space. His chutzpah and attractive charisma is such a terrific contrast to the tighter presence of Tambo, and the interplay between the two is some of the most solid performance bedrock you’ll see on a DC stage right now. Here’s a little secret: it’s not quite a two-hander, though it still sort of is. But there are two more actors, Clint Blakely and Robert Bowen Smith, who are largely lineless and only make an appearance in the second act (I won’t spoil quite how). But their presence alongside Tambo & Bones is magnetic, and it’s a testament to Ashleigh King’s direction how unified the performances become during what could have been a very hatchmarked sequence of delivery. 10/10
Production
And speaking of King, what a grip she has on the tone of this production, especially after the first act. There’s a hum of agility in the duo as they prop up an arena’s ambience while navigating darkness in their own existence, and the futurism that lingers into the play’s end feels appropriately tense and burdensome. navi’s sound design shines during Act II’s concert scenes, and the projections by Luis Garcia are incredibly on-point across the different “eras” of performance. However, I did find the staging cumbersome at times, especially the change made after intermission. The space is quite intimate, and it does seem to invade the personal space bubble of the audience in ways that feel different than the mental incursions that work so well. 8/10
Viz
Come one, come all to the Tambo & Bones minstrel showcase, says Spooky Action upon entering the Universalist National Memorial Church basement. A papery, hand-painted forest set greets you. It’s simplistic, but has a level of craft that indicates it’s just the tip of the iceberg. It’s best not to dwell: take a look at the crackly film projection behind the trees and sit back for some olde-timey tomfoolery. The marketing art is markedly different, though: a microphone, a dollar sign, and some fire. This could be about any given rap topic, and it doesn’t let more on than that. I would hate for that to be the cover by how people judge the show, even if it is a meaty part of it. It’s just a lot more than that, and doesn’t pose much to ponder on. 6/10
Verdict
Tambo & Bones is a brilliant commentary on “acting” within white society, with plenty of laughs and gasps, and featuring sublime performances and crisp direction. 33/40
