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“Do you think it’s funnier if I do the spin to my left or my right?” asked Julie Bowen. The cast of “Fake It Until You Make It” is rehearsing a complicated, climactic sequence, finalizing when exactly to slam each door and how high Tonantzin Carmelo should toss a prop for Eric Stanton Betts to catch it. The farcical comedy, which begins performances Wednesday at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, is set in a co-working office building for nonprofit organizations serving Native American populations. Think “Noises Off” but with bows and arrows, beaded curtains and big questions about who gets to rightfully claim a racial, national or cultural identity.
Larissa FastHorse applauds the actors with glee. It’s a scene the playwright has waited some time to rehearse: This world-premiere run of the Center Theatre Group commission was supposed to play the Taper in 2023 but was canceled during the venue’s programming pause. Running through March 9, the co-production — also featuring Noah Bean, Brandon Delsid and Dakota Ray Hebert, and directed by Michael John Garcés — then will play Washington, D.C’s Arena Stage (April 3-May 4), with Amy Brenneman replacing Bowen.
FastHorse tells The Times about opening “Fake It” at the Taper after all, questioning “pretendians” with satire and making commercially viable Native theater. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
My new play, “Fake It Until You Make It,” commissioned by Center Theatre Group, was about to go into production at their Mark Taper Forum when the organization indefinitely “paused” Taper programming. Real damage has been done to L.A. communities.
How do you feel about finally opening this show?
It’s been pretty incredible. We got the cancellation news when we were two weeks out from starting rehearsal. I got a lot of attention for it, but what was so heartbreaking and upsetting about it that kind of got lost in everything was that Michael lost his production. I’m the playwright, I still have the play, I can do it somewhere else. I immediately sent it out to 20 other artistic directors, and with budgets and things, there’s no guarantee any of them would bring him in as an out-of-town director.
What changed everything was that [Arena Stage artistic director] Hana S. Sharif signed on immediately, with Michael directing, with a co-production option. That put us in a place of power and choice: We could walk away from CTG and just do it at Arena. It gave us the opportunity to say, actually, it matters to us to do it in our hometown, it was created for that space, it would be the first piece of theater at the Taper by a Native playwright.
I’ve known [CTG artistic director] Snehal [Desai] and [managing director] Meghan [Pressman] for a long time, and there were a lot of painful Zooms back and forth, some miscommunications that happened. We talked about it and worked through it, and because I know them well, we were able to kind of fight it out and get there. If [Arena hadn’t signed on], I think there still would have been a lot of hurt and unhealed pain, which would have made this process difficult.
Now, we’re so happy to be here. We both love Snehal and wanted to be a part of his first season. Knowing it was our choice to be a part of it made a difference.
This play explores the world of nonprofit organizations. Where did the idea come from?
I was in the middle of fundraising for the community project Michael and I are doing in South Dakota, and I got interested in who gets funded, who doesn’t and why. The amount of times white-led organizations just suddenly get dumped millions of dollars on them is incredible, because there’s an assumption that they can scale up.
But can a Native American-led organization — who is in the community, understands this community and has been doing incredible work as a nonprofit for years — scale up? Will they be responsible? Can they handle it? That difference in trust, maybe even if doing the exact same work, was really eye-opening to me and something we’ve experienced firsthand.
[In this play,] we have a white-led organization that actually does good work, because there are tons that do. And honestly, I wanted to make sure my main Native woman character wasn’t doing the most amazing work because I didn’t want her to be this saint just because she’s Native American. I wanted her to be flawed.
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The play also discusses the concept of race-shifting. Why did you want to address that here?
In my community, we call them “pretendians.” This country has a long history of folks wanting to be Native, and there are people in academia and in organizations who are benefiting pretty greatly from a created Indigenous ancestry that isn’t there. And I was surprised: I looked around Reddit threads and chat rooms and found people of color who shift between communities of color — I didn’t even know that was an option! — or, of course, shift into whiteness. You don’t want to be who you are, and you feel more powerful as someone else.
There are real advocates for race-shifting — as in, it’s OK to do it, but do it ethically, don’t take resources from someone else. So then, does it really matter if they’re walking around and pretending to be somebody else? I don’t want to just make fun of these people; I wanted a way to talk about it, and where the conversation around race and identity is heading, that hadn’t been done yet. And Michael, whom I’ve collaborated with for 13 years, wanted to direct a farce. He’s like, “Your comedy and your satire already lean toward farce. I want to see what you’d do if you were to just let loose and go for it.”
As in your other work, you ask big questions in this play but don’t share any answers or definitive opinions. Why not?
That’s too easy. I totally don’t need people to agree with me, because how useful is that in the world? If theater is both an entertainment and a tool, which are equally important in my mind, it’s much more valuable to make people think for themselves and then articulate those thoughts than to just agree or disagree with me. That’s exciting, that’s the best theater can do.
I hate going to the theater and feeling like I’m being punished, or like they didn’t want me there. I love audiences, and I want to reward them for coming, which can be a challenge — it’s expensive, it takes time and, here, they’ve got to get to freaking downtown L.A.! So whatever place you occupy on the political or moral spectrum, and however you end up feeling about these topics, I hope you laughed and had a good time.
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You’ve previously said “The Thanksgiving Play” is a piece of Native theater with mostly white actors, which helps to make it more producible in the white American theater. Did you think about that for “Fake It” and other works-in-progress?
Honestly, I do have to think about that now. Because of the privileged position I’m in, people are going to produce my plays. So I think about the economics and math that these theaters are doing: What’s the size of the house? How many Native actors can I get? Are there a couple roles that the Julie Bowens and Amy Brennemans can come in and sell some more tickets? The reality is, selling all these seats is still really hard, and it costs so much money to fill this place. So yeah, I think about putting in a character who can sell some tickets where most of our Native artists just haven’t been given opportunities to be that person yet.
CTG has done an incredible job of incorporating Native artists into all the departments, hiring local Native artists and sourcing from Native vendors whenever they can. Even down to the tote bags the characters wear, they’re all from Native organizations and artists. And our set features the work of 40 or so Native artists; there are two prominent mural pieces from River Garza [who is Tongva/Mexican], and major work by Marlena Myles [who is Spirit Lake Dakota/Mohegan/Muscogee]. Jesse Calderon [who is Chumash/Tongva] created the floor’s basket weave pattern, and all the frames inside these offices are by Native artists. What’s really cool is that there’ll be information and merchandise from all these artists in the lobby, so audiences can learn more about them.
You’re opening your first farce. What tip would you give to another playwright trying out the form?
You have to think about humans. Humans do everything in theater. When I make a change, it’s just words to me, but that’s a physical reality to the people onstage and backstage who make it happen. What’s the cost to their bodies, their safety, their stress levels?
Someone in wardrobe was talking about being in a show where they were crying because they couldn’t make a quick change. I told them, and folks in every department, that if a scene transition or something is becoming borderline dangerous, I can always just write more words — that’s easy. These scenes go at a fast pace, but it can be a humane pace. There’s no reason for people to suffer or get hurt or get a career-ending injury over this.
'Fake It Until You Make It'
Where: Mark Taper Forum, 135 N. Grand Ave., L.A.
When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays-Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays. Through March 9. (Call for exceptions.)
Tickets: Start at $35
Info: (213) 628-2772 or centertheatregroup.org
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