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| L to R - Dale Strange, Matt Orme, Barrett Cooper, Carol Willimas & Julane Havens in Buried Child. Photo courtesy of Bunbury Theatre. |
Buried Child
Written by Sam Shepard
Directed by Steve Woodring
Reviewed by Keith Waits
Entire contents copyright © 2012 Keith Waits. All rights reserved.
How is it that Louisville has never seen a production of Buried Child? The play won the Pulitzer
Prize in 1979 and elevated Sam Shepard to THE important American playwright of
his time, yet it has taken more than 30 years to come to a Louisville stage. We
can be grateful to Bunbury Theatre for finally rectifying the situation,
proving again why local theatres such as this matter. This powerful
presentation is a lesson in both contemporary theatre history and a testament
to the strength of the local talent pool.
Shepard examines the dark underbelly of the American experience and the dissolution
of the American dream by showing in morbid and unrelenting fashion a set of
archetypal characters who are so profoundly damaged as to be unrecognizable.
They were a farming family, father and sons born to work the land, and a
stalwart mother, all expecting to reap the harvest. Norman Rockwell is
mentioned at one point; one might also bear in mind Grant Wood’s famous
painting “American Gothic” in contemplating the upright standard bearers of the
heartland that this family was meant to be.
But the family unit has been devastated by sin and disappointment so
deep that it will never recover and a secret so toxic that its denial has
corrupted them all to the point of ruination. The crops have been abandoned for
years; the father is a bitter, depressed alcoholic; the two sons are
emotionally or physically crippled; the mother is lost in an illusion of normality
that depends on the kindness of a “boyfriend” who is a singularly ineffectual
clergyman.
In Act Two a grandson arrives, with girlfriend in tow, both of whom
provide the audience entry into the characters’ lives; surrogates, if you will,
to ask the questions that have risen in our minds during the cryptic and mysterious first act. By the end, how each of these young
people react to the circumstance will frame our understanding of what Shepard
is trying to say here. It is important to realize that Buried Child originated before the casual discussion of
“dysfunctional families” became ubiquitous. In a society where a good majority
now identifies themselves as the result of such troubled family structures
(Americans never want to be left out), Shepard’s play may seem to be revisiting
well-trod groundn But the truth, never more elusive than in this story, is that
Buried Child is a seminal work that
has proven to be a great influence on so many who came after. This is one of
the foundations of that trend, and I would be hard-pressed to name a better
example from the 30 years since its debut.
Director Steve Woodring has chosen his cast with care, and they truly
deliver. Dale Strange has a small role as Father Dewis, but he perfectly
captures the befuddled ineptitude of a priest who is in over his head and
compromised by his own questionable behavior. Ty Leitner looks like Glen
Campbell circa 1970 as the grandson, Vince, and while the image serves to
nicely establish a place in time, the actor also handles the shift in
temperament between his two scenes with energy and confidence. Carol Williams’
Halie, the mother, is very present in the opening scenes, but mostly as a
nuisance to her husband and a mostly offstage voice. Her return late in the
third act is where the character is truly allowed to weigh in, and she
effectively renders self-righteousness moving into panic and desperation as her
imagined grip on circumstances begins to loosen.
As Vince’s girlfriend, Shelly, Julane Havens beautifully charts our own
changing perspective on events and eventually provides the release and hope of
escape that makes the bleak scenario bearable. It was engaging work but also a
vivid expression of the disquieting horror contained in the text. Barrett
Cooper played the younger brother, Bradley, with a distinct physical presence
and quality of menace that turned his second act confrontation with Shelly into
a chilling and sexually-charged threat that made the intermission that
immediately followed a very welcome thing indeed. His choice for a voice initially
struck me as caricaturish enough to be at odds with the lumbering and awkward
gait (Bradley has a prosthetic leg) and dark, glowering countenance. But as the
play evolved, it found a more natural feeling.
Finally, this production gifts us with two performances that make this
writer want to search his superlatives with care, so as to not overstate the
quality of the work. Bunbury Artistic Associate Matt Orme plays Dodge, the sad and drunken
paterfamilias, in a manner that makes you think you simply could not do this
material without him. The character’s scabrous sense of humor is crucial to the
delivery of the play, giving the audience the opportunity to laugh while swallowing
this bitter pill. Mr. Orme can earn laughs with one hand tied behind his back,
but it is in the pained moments in-between that this veteran illustrates
something much deeper and more resonant, and he brings an epic yet intimate
power to his final moments onstage. As the older son, Tilden, Andy Pyle moves
about the stage with uncertainty, giving off a glow of unreality that is
astonishing and magnetic. It is a portrait of a lost man who has experienced
unfathomable tragedy, communicating a deep and elemental pain that the audience
can only guess at.
The production design was close to brilliant, with a magnificent set by
Lily Bartenstein, lighting by Chuck Schmidt and sound by Maigan Wallace that
evocatively brought to life an aging farmhouse. One could feel the wood
surfaces made dark by the years of tobacco smoke and lack of sufficient
housekeeping – a shelter from reality but also a prison for the suffering souls
contained within. The costumes by
Teresa Greer and hair and make-up by Thomas Leigh worked perfectly to fit the
concept.
Here in the waning days of spring, there are several plays to see in the
Louisville area currently, but it would be a shame to miss this dark and
bracing dose of American post-modern theatre – the play that some consider
Shepard’s finest work. (True West,
coming this fall from Actors Theatre, would be one argument for a better one.) Buried Child is a dark and disturbing
play, and it may not be to everyone’s taste; but you will not soon again find a
better example of the force and quality that this local theatre scene is
capable of.
Buried Child
June 8- 24
Wednesday through Saturday 7:30 p.m.
Sundays 2 p.m.
Bunbury Theatre
at the Henry Clay
604 S. Third St.
Louisville, KY
(502) 585-5306
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