Kumu Kahua Theatre closes its season with a difficult double bill of cultural relevance, but only tentative dramatic value.

Both "Waiting for a King" by Krystal H. Ontai and "Kalua'iko'olau" by Kemuel DeMoville address Hawaiian identity and history. The first uses elevated speech and argument; the second incorporates hula and chant. But they are a difficult pair for an audience to absorb and for director Harry Wong III to shape into a satisfying evening.

"Waiting for a King" slips back and forth between contemporary activist rhetoric and imagined historical conversations. The activists repeat a history of abuses that ring like tired clichés — "haole after haole after haole" have done nothing but "take, take, take" and have succeeded in polluting the 'aina.

A sub-argument pits pure embitterment against capitulation, represented in Michelle Umipeg's costumes as bare feet and twisted baseball cap against tucked-in aloha shirt and laptop computer.

The historical conversations take place atop a pile of puzzle-piece platforms where Wil Kahele sits as a sad and zen-like Kamehameha. He is approached in turn by Ka'ahumanu (Annie Lokomaika'i Lipscomb), Kekuaokalani (Moses Goods III) and Liholiho (William "Kal-El" Murray.)

The historical conversations weigh toward moderation ("Hawaiian is a way of life — not only blood") but are also challenging ("The kapus are tedious and naive"). The alternating modern activism is sometimes revealingly raw, "Hawai'i for Hawaiians! Hawai'i for me!"

There is no ultimate resolution ("both paths will guide you, pursue them") and the action ends as it began — with a group hug that is part team huddle and part prayer.

In the second piece, the cast adds Kimberleigh Ka Lei O Naha Villasenor, who joins Kahele in chanting and beating out accompanying gourd rhythms.

"Kalua'iko'olau" takes place in a remote valley where a pair of back-to-the-land hikers take shelter from a storm in a remote cave. They are joined by an addled old woman who is revealed to be a restless spirit. The woman outlived her husband and son and spent the last years of her life hidden from a changing society.

Lipscomb does good dance and vocal work in this role, evoking sadness devoid of bitterness and imparting a spiritual significance to the old woman's suffering.

But the drama's point is otherwise elusive and its most interesting visual moment comes from the men's hula, in which one of them carries a sleek assault rifle.

The plays are a taxing double bill, but giving them an opportunity to be seen is a core part of Kumu Kahua's mission statement.

Joseph T. Rozmiarek has been reviewing theater since 1973.