Playwright: Yasmina Reza . At: Steppenwolf Upstairs Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted . Phone: 312-335-1650; $20-$70. Runs through: June 7
From a white painting of white lines—essentially a blank canvas—Yasmina Reza spins a story as rich as a thousand intricate tapestries. The wholly engrossing 80-minute play isn't about whether the painting is any good—it's about whether decades-old friendships can withstand the inevitable changes that occur as years pass and people change.
It is also a hilarious, biting look at the inevitable, navel-gazing neurosis that only middle-aged men of a certain comfortable income can afford to engage in. Like the crisis-ridden, self-absorbed men of Sideways, Marc, Serge and Ivan would be utterly insufferable were you to run into them in real life. On the stage, however, they are wickedly funny, skewering portraits of bewildered boys-at-heart, trying to make sense of the men they've become and the grown-up lives they're leading.
The story takes off with the white painting. Serge has paid an outlandish amount for it, and Marc—one of his oldest, dearest friends—is appalled. As Serge talks about The Artist in capital letters, and tosses about the term "deconstruction" like a pretentious grad student, Marc is forced to wonder: How could he possibly have anything in common with a humorless, elitist snob who would pay thousands for a blank canvas?
The third, essential piece in this picture is Ivan, a walking, talking bundle of obsessive compulsive anxieties. Straddling a middle ground in a disastrous attempt to keep the peace between Serge and Marc, Ivan becomes an all-purpose punching bag.
On the surface, Reza's play sounds as facile as a cut-rate sitcom. But directed by Rick Snyder and featuring a trio of understated powerhouses, "Art" is anything but.
For one thing, the script crackles with intelligence from opening to closing monologue—both Marc's, and both delivered with a thousand points of sharp subtlety by Francis Guinan. The material in between is both exploration and revelation: That white canvas contains a world entire unto itself, and watching Marc, Serge ( John Procaccino ) and Ivan ( the incomparable K. Todd Freeman ) try to find their way in it is endlessly engaging.
Snyder navigates the terrain with a sharp ear for authenticity and—despite several full-throttle meltdowns by Ivan—a light touch. The cast is pitch perfect, from Serge's condescending gestures as he instructs Marc to "read Seneca," to Ivan's panicked hysteria over the minutiae of planning a wedding. ( Speaking of which: Freeman has a monologue about invitations that—in the best way possible—is an utter show-stopper. )
Art isn't epic or conventionally spectacular—the set ( beautifully done by Antje Ellermann ) is confined to two minimalist rooms, the plot—with one whopper of an endgame exception—pivots on dialogue rather than action. Yet there's no question but that this production is immensely satisfying from start to finish.
