Review: Meet the Cartozians, Not the Kardashians

One of the great thrills in theater is realizing you’re witnessing a play that goes beyond the everyday, in which a writer you admire makes a leap from good to genuinely great. That’s the case with Talene Monahon’s new comedy Meet the Cartozians, a Second Stage production at the Pershing Square Signature Center. Both hilarious and tragic, the play examines the Armenian struggle to navigate American cultural boundaries in two acts set 100 years apart. Under David Cromer’s assured direction, the ensemble members deliver superb performances that balance humor and heartbreak with remarkable precision.

In Portland, Oregon, circa 1904, Monahon introduces us to Tatos Cartozian (the powerfully restrained Nael Nacer), a prosperous oriental rug merchant whose recently granted US citizenship has been revoked. Why so suddenly? A seemingly principled attorney, Wally McCamant (Will Brill), alerts the family to the fact that the United States provides status only to either “free white persons of good character” and/or “persons of African descent.” Where does that leave Armenians like Tatos, his white-passing daughter Hazel (the gorgeously vulnerable Tamara Servunts), and his darker-skinned son Vahan (Raffi Barsoumian)?

Over a hundred years later in a mansion in Glendale, California, circa 2024, a group of Armenian Americans (Nacer, Barsoumian, Susan Pourfar, and Andrea Martin, collectively terrific) gather for a filmed conversation about the holiday customs of the old country. They’re waiting on the arrival a reality TV megastar, one of the most famous women on the planet and a great-great-great-grand-descendant of Tatos. As they anticipate her arrival, the four debate census classification and the ripple effects, good and bad, of the historic ruling in United States v. Cartozian generations earlier.

An intensely personal play that’s historical fiction at its shrewdest, Armenian American writer Monahon makes these thorny, dialectical, Facebook-thread debates about race, religion, and assimilation not just engaging but genuinely fun. Monahon slyly delivers a century’s worth of devastating history—about state-sponsored genocide, forced religious conversion, and the means of fitting in—while keeping us giggling. You can see the audience collectively double-over with laughter every time Martin and Brill open their mouths, and then abruptly snap back in their seat when the weight of what’s being said lands like a missile. It’s the savviest blend of education and entertainment I’ve encountered in a long time.

Cromer once again proves himself to be one of our finest directors of mirthful melancholy, delivering a clear-eyed production that never lapses into sentimentality. His ensemble is thoroughly convincing both as a tightknit, turn-of-the-last-century immigrant family—clinging to customs like dressing in traditional garb to celebrate Christmas on Epiphany—and affluent modern Californians, for whom the same clothes, expertly rendered by designer Enver Chakartash, are little more than costumes layered over their real outfits.

Scenic designer Tatiana Khavegian builds two worlds that are just as distinct. The Cartozians’ family home in Portland is rendered in what feels like grayscale, a sheen of dust drifting through Stacey Derosier’s lighting. During intermission, it vanishes to make way for the Glendale house, clearly sprawling, but hemmed in by film equipment and dominated by a Christmas tree that offers a burst of holiday color. The creative team’s attention to detail is meticulous; even a tiny Khachkar statue carries real weight when it catches your eye (the prop supervisor is Anya Kutner).

Meet the Cartozians is an altogether excellent play that meets the moment with effortless precision, trusting us without holding our hands. Challenging conventions and revealing largely unknown history, it’s a must-see for anyone interested in how the past informs the present, no matter what nationality you are.