A Nighttime Survival Guide

Or: “Still Turning”

We defeat our monsters by naming them. We classify that terrible thing in the dark and give it a weakness: Vampire, Akari, Kapa; garlic, red cloth, politeness. And as we grow and that fear grows with us, it is very important to remember that the old trick still holds true. Such is the ribbon that ties together A Nighttime Survival Guide, a TYA masterpiece on fear and friendship warmly welcomed at its return to Boise Contemporary Theater.

Eleven year old pen-pals Aki (Carie Kawa) and Vern (Dwayne Blackaller) live on the far sides of the globe: she recently moved from Sendai a small rural town in the north of Japan, and he ensconced on the blasted heath of Arco Idaho. Communicating first by letter, then by phone, then by internet, they grow a close friendship and their own world, nurtured along the curve of the earth by the gentle, mysterious Conductor (Justin Ness) and orchestrated by a trio of “Silhouettes” (Jodi Eichelberger, Jamie Nebecker, and Anne McDonald). Terrified of the dark, and dreading the 15 hours of night that will arrive on the darkest day of the year, Vern finds himself beset by monsters from Japanese folklore, and relying upon Aki to appease them, little knowing she has her own terrors at her door.

Written and directed by Blackaller and Mathew Cameron Clark, the play is a playground where each facet of the production can tinker and show it’s best. From Ness’s the warm, buttery narration and reflections on time, to Michael Baltzell’s ingenious monster puppets, cute until underscored by the expertly eerie sounds of Peter John Still and eldritch light of Tony Hartshorn. Even the choreography of the Silhouettes makes what could be uncovered machinery a production growing part of a greater whole.

But what makes A Nighttime Survival Guide so powerful, so fun, and so sad is that it really is geared towards kids. Aki and Vern are written not as an ideas of youth but carry all the silliness and the seriousness and the broad strokes view of the world of an eleven year old. And they incorporate it in every moment, from the way Aki’s whole body twists away from the revulsion at the notion of Peanut-butter to the way Vern leaps and hot foots on his bed to stay away from whatever might be beneath it. Kawa is incandescent in her inhabitation of Aki’s erudite delight in monster identification, jubilant joy in sharing stories about her own life, asking about Verns unknown Idaho existence and in being able to control some part of the world. It makes for dazzling comedy and sucks the rug out from under us, as Aki's taint of traumas passed, comes blowing in. Blackaller vibrates with Vern’s energy, his goofiness, and terror, and ignorance at being able to grasp a world outside what he knows. Both capture their characters entirely and show us the world through eleven year old eyes, recognizing what a scary place it can be but, and this is the treasure of the show, learning how they can name what looms in the darkness, and learn, non-violently and in spite of pain and fear, to confront it.