Playwright: Stephen Adly Guirgis
At: Steppenwolf, 1650 N. Halsted
Phone: (312) 335-1650; $42-$52
Runs through: March 28
A death reuniting long lost friends together is nothing new. The device has been used on stage and screen many times (are we hearing the baby boomer soundtrack for The Big Chill?), but it's great to see a time-honored device appropriated and then given a whole new spin. Our Lady of 121st Street is a neat little powerhouse of a play: raucous, funny, poignant, shocking, and completely entertaining. It makes everything old new again.
Sister Rose has died and her body has gone missing. The mystery, however, is irrelevant to the trajectory of the story of former students, relatives, and associates coming together to bid the nun farewell. The absence of a body stalls the funeral and allows for reunions to take place in the anteroom of the church, a confessional, a diner, a bar, and on the street. Playwright Guirgis has assembled a motley cast of characters. It's fascinating to see how these people connect, bringing up old hurts, resentments, loves, sexual encounters, and horrible pain. It's often hilarious to witness the dark humor that emerges in their whip-smart, urban (but never urbane) dialogue. And it often cuts to the heart to witness the pain of loss and the often-unwitting grasp for redemption.
Guirgis' characters are young, old, successful, on the outs, despicable, lovable, confrontational, dumb, smart, and hungry; and often these traits are present in varying degrees in each of them at various moments. Just like real people. Credit director Will Frears for managing a large ensemble and eliciting performances that awe with their realism, energy, and commitment. From Matt DeCaro's opening performance as a foul-mouthed former student, to the smooth sliminess of Rooftop (E. Milton Wheeler, despicable and lovable at the same time), to the world weariness of Inez, Rooftop's former wife (Shane Williams), to Eddie Martinez' brain-damaged man/boy, Pinky, this is a cast that sings with artistry and dedication. The fierce talents on display here are reason enough to buy a ticket.
But all these great characters wouldn't be much without a strong story upon which to build. Guirgis writes in episodic encounters that click by quickly enough to leave you breathless. It isn't until later that you realize how all of these encounters fit together and how they support a thesis of redemption and finding a kind of grace in the connections of our past.
The whole affair is tied up with panache by a talented creative team. Thomas Lynch's set, which glides in from backstage, drops from above, rises from below, and is dominated by the mourning room and empty casket of Sister Rose, is inspired and evocative. Lynch manages to keep the central unifying force of these small and large reunions at center stage while fluidly moving through a wide range of set changes and experiences. The omnipresent Andre Pluess and Ben Sussman lend a kind of blistering voice to the production with their sound design and music.
Our Lade of 121st Street is a play that has it all: entertainment, depth, comedy, and pathos. It's a must-see.