Superior Donuts

"Superior Donuts" at the Music Box, September 30, 2009

Steppenwolf comes to Broadway, following the success of "August: Osage County" two years ago, once again courtesy of company member Tracy Letts.

From the heat of an Oklahoma summer, now we're in uptown Chicago with winter approaching at Arthur Przybyszewski's shop, Superior Donuts, opened by his immigrant parents in 1950. The neighborhood ain't what it was, nor is the donut shop.

Arthur (Michael McKean) is a 1960's draft dodger (amnesty courtesy of Jimmy Carter) whose fear of confrontation cripples him, ruining his marriage and relationship with his daughter. Divorced for five years, his ex-wife has just died and Arthur is further adrift. The day the shop is vandalized, young Franco (Jon Michael Hill) shows up to apply for the open counter job. All sales from the beginning, he convinces Arthur to hire him, then sets about trying to revive the business. Max (Yasen Peyankov), is a Russian immigrant who owns the electronics shop next door has been after Arthur to sell him the space so he can expand before Best Buy discovers the area and moves in. Franco's own issues soon catch up with him as Luther (Robert Maffia) arrives looking to collect an overdue debt.

Mr. Letts' script slowly reveals bits and pieces of Arthur's past in a series of spotlighted monologues, which I thought worked very well. I'm not usually a big fan of direct address, but the staging and flow make it work. There is a certain "Chico and the Man" aspect in motion, but the play doesn't necessarily suffer from a sitcom feel.

Mr. McKean's Arthur, looking like a Dead-head wannabe with a grey ponytail, scruffy beard and tie-dyed tshirt, suffers miserably over his feelings of loss that are the result of his inability to face and confront his fears. It's an admirable performance. The other supporting players are clear and distinct, each bringing a genuine life to their roles.

It is Mr. Hill as Franco who gets, and makes the most of, the best material. Street-wise, savvy, insightful and clever, his "fatal flaw" remains carefully hidden as he makes an honest attempt to clear up the worries in his life. It's a carefully shaded performance that's certain to bring attention - the kind any young actor strives for.

Director Tina Landau avoids sentimentality with a no-nonsense approach. The last thing I saw her direct was J. M. Barrie's "Mary Rose" at The Vineyard in 2007. These two pieces couldn't be much more different, but there is a common thoughtfulness in both productions.

James Schuette's donut shop, to me, hearkens a bit toward Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" with its long counter and harsh lighting, courtesy of Christopher Akerlind.

I've got to say, it's looking like another good season for plays on Broadway!

To Tell the Truth

"August: Osage County" presented by Steppenwolf Theatre at the Imperial Theatre, November 3, 2007


Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre is one of the best regional theatres in the US, bringing yet another excellent production to Broadway in Tracy Letts' August: Osage County. There's an air of familiarity about it, feeling much like one would expect of a William Inge play written by Beth Henley. This tale manages to pull out most of the stops of a southern gothic drama set in the plains of Oklahoma. All the elements are there, drug use and abuse, alcoholism, infidelity and more (not to spoil too much of the story here). What I also find impressive is that this is a 3 act play, running just about 3 hours, including intermissions. It's refreshing to find something on Broadway that hasn't been sliced and diced down to a marketable 90-minute one-act.

Let's see, can I sum the plot up in a paragraph? Beverly (the father) drinks. Violet (the mother) takes pills and is dying from cancer of the mouth. Three daughters, Barbara, Karen and Ivy all with their own sets of issues. Busybody in-laws Mattie Fae and Charles, a loser cousin Little Charles and an overly precocious, pot-smoking, teen grandchild Jean all come together with enough revelations to tire Tennessee Williams. Toss in a new fiance, a former boyfriend now the sheriff and a Native American cook/housekeeper and stir it up good.

As Violet, Deanna Dunagan flails, curses, whines, moans, cajoles, manipulates and tortures everyone around her as she suffers her own slow disease. She conveys the full range of this personal hell in which her character suffers, from dazed and drugged moments of stupor to acid-tongued speeches full of bile and vinegar.

Amy Morton's Barbara is the oldest daughter, who bears the full weight of the family's role reversal. Her own marriage is dissolving since her husband has taken up with a student at his college, but they're pretending to still be together as the family works through its crisis. Ms. Morton excels in this trying role, naturally moving from feelings of abandonment to being fully in charge, kicking ass and taking names. As she and her sisters consider their parents' lives amid the revelations following the funeral, one asks, "When they named them the 'Greatest Generation,' have the considered all the other generations?"

Rondi Reed's Mattie Fae reminded me a lot of Lottie Lacey from Inge's "Dark at the Top of the Stairs" - overbearing and dominating both her husband and grown son. She has her own dark secret to share in Act III, which is quite a twist based on the actions of her character.

The others in the cast all acquit themselves well. Particular note to Madeline Martin's Jean, the dead-pan teen who escapes a sticky situation with her aunt's new fiance after they sneak out to share a dooby and he gets frisky.

Director Anna D. Shapiro gets things moving once the exposition of Act I is over. She does well maneuvering the large cast around Todd Rosenthal's three-level set. His open structure lays bare the bones of the house, preparing for the skeletons that will appear from the family's closet.

It's a strong production, well worth seeing.