Playwright: David Mamet. At: Steep Theatre, 1115 W. Berwyn. Phone: 866-811-4111;$20-$22. Runs through: Feb. 26
It hasn't got the carefully shaped structure we associate with the latter-day David Mamet. Indeed, this early play is almost a documentary, as non-judgmental as a Fred Wiseman film, with only a single unanswered questionwhy is the ship's cook AWOL?to lend a modicum of suspense to the proceedings. But like the Great Lakes that these lonely men sail, secrets lie beneath the placid surface.
Mamet, himself, spent a summer during the mid-1960s as a steward on a cargo ship much like the freighter where his characters labor, grasping at any opportunity to alleviate the tedium. We encounter the topics common to men-in-groups the world over: florid sagas of memorable binges, bimbos and brawlsrecounted with rhapsodic vulgarity in the dramatic detail that comes of frequent repetition, and perhaps enlarged once again for the new audience provided by the college-educated boy now manning the galley. But we also hear confessions of an intimacy only occurring among passing strangers sharing isolation, along with unexpected philosophical observations (upon learning that young Dale is majoring in English Literature, Joe warns him, "That's a tough racket"), as the crew speculates on the fate of their missing comrade, each anticipating his own brand of bad news.
Well, when you're as bored as even inland-seafarers have historically been, any mystery can beguile the time. What holds our attention is the vivid array of personalities conjured by the cast of this Steep Theatre production as they harmonize on Mamet's symphony of tall tales, enigmatic exchanges, defiant declarations and provocative walk-through commentary (e.g. two men enter a room, one saying, "This boat is becoming a bureaucracy", and exit before we can hear the reply). Though we may not recall their names, we soon recognize them, by as little as their offstage voices. We also come to appreciate director C.J. Cederquist's clever choreography in facilitating scene changes on the narrow alley-style playing space without interrupting the flow of the action (bridged by Miles Polaski's mock-swashbuckling incidental music).
"There's justice out there, but no mercy" an old salty once said of the endless waterways. For the brief 80 minutes of our voyage from Duluth to Chicago aboard the T. Harrison, however, Mamet extends mercy to his brothers of the moment, and in doing so, allows us a glimpse of an all-but-invisible world lying at the economical foundations of life as we sheltered consumers know it.