Playwright: Lanford Wilson
At: Hypocrites at Chopin Theatre,
1543 W. Division
Phone: (312) 409-5578; $15-$18
Runs through: Nov. 2
Balm in Gilead, Lanford Wilson's chaotic portrait of life in a seedy Manhattan diner, has quite a reputation around Chicago. Back in the 1980s, when John Malkovitch staged it for Steppenwolf (with a cast that included Gary Sinise, Laurie Metcalf, John Mahoney, and Joan Allen), it rocketed the then small theater company to national prominence because of its powerhouse ensemble, opening doors for tremendous growth. Wilson's story, centering on the lives of the diner's patrons—junkies, prostitutes, hustlers, and the generally disenfranchised—was the kind of showcase for directing and acting that comes along only rarely.
Credit must be given to director Sean Graney and his formidable company for taking on such a legendary play, especially here in Chicago. In order to not pale by comparison, any local production of the play had better be something extraordinary.
Fortunately, for the Hypocrites and Graney, this version of Wilson's screaming, vibrant mess of humanity, can proudly stand on its own as a work of uncompromising excellence. The basement studio of the Chopin is small and a bit grungy, making it the perfect place to play out the sad and desperate lives Wilson so cunningly portrays. Graney's blood-red diner set design, Heather Graff and Rich Peterson's dramatic lighting effects, Joseph Fosco's sound and music, and Jennifer Grace's costumes all work in tandem to bring to life these underground denizens and their offbeat and often poignant stories.
But Balm in Gilead (the title refers to lines from a spiritual: 'There is a balm in Gilead/To make the wounded whole;/There is a balm in Gilead/To heal the sin sick soul') is really an ensemble piece. No matter how brilliant the creative design, it's up to the actors to bring this tale of losers to convincing life. Again, the Hypocrites do not disappoint. One of the biggest tests and challenges of thespian mettle comes during the second act, when Darlene, a naïve transplant from Chicago, launches into an almost half-hour-long monologue about a lost albino love. Laurie Metcalf garnered accolades when she spun out this story nearly 20 years ago with Steppenwolf. Niki Prugh, as Darlene, probably plays it differently than Metcalf did, but her performance is also probably no less a wonder: pained and strained, Pugh makes her character and this telling anecdote her own. Other standouts in the ensemble include Jennifer Grace, as Ann, a hard-nosed whore with a lot of brains, Danny Belrose, as a fast-talking hustler, Geoff Button as the heroin addicted Dopey, and Steve Wilson as Joe, a would-be pusher who sinks fast into the mire. Wilson takes a while to get started, but his end is convincing and heart breaking.
It's great to see smaller companies do such refined work. It's what Chicago theater is all about.