Review: True West, a True Time Capsule at Steppenwolf Theatre
Steppenwolf ensemble members Jon Michael Hill (Austin) and Namir Smallwood (Lee). Photo by Michael Brosilow.
The play that launched Chicago’s lauded ensemble returns to the substantially larger stage for the first time since 1982. Sam Shepard’s True West propelled the Highland Park High School and Illinois State University classmates from their modest Jane Addams Hull House stage to national prominence.
This iteration, directed by Randall Arney, features African American leads chewing the scenery and stealing the toasters. Jon Michael Hill is Austin, a screenwriter on the precipice of a big break, writing his script while house-sitting his mom’s modest bungalow. His estranged brother, ne’er-do-well Lee (Namir Smallwood), shows up to make a mess of floors and lives. The misanthrope admits “This is the last time I try to live with people.”
They are surrounded by crickets outside and familial baggage inside. Twangy interstitial guitar music (designed by Richard Woodbury) evokes the cowboy ethos. Lee remembers his time at the edge of the Mojave desert, the liminal space where Shepard likes to set his kitchen sink dramas.
It’s 1980, but the desert tropes are mostly evergreen, even in an almost Harvest gold kitchen, complete with a macramé owl, spider plants and manual typewriter. Scenic design credit goes to Todd Rosenthal with Ann G. Wrightson's lighting and Richard Woodbury's sound design completing the ambience.
We see Shepard, who died in 2017, grapple with his own career aspirations through both brothers and their writing aspirations—one is disciplined yet unsuccessful, and the other a lucky sell-out. The patter is easy, and the performances are vibrant. Francis Guinan reprises his role as smarmy agent Saul, and Jacqueline Williams is the cipher matriarch, unperturbed by the domestic violence.
The underlying theme is “there’s no such thing as the West any more,” which seems to translate in this century as “there’s no such thing as shocking drama any more,” as theater now offers promenade, immersive, multi-day, multi-discipline, multi-cultural and other incessantly genre-breaking production choices, and the real world currently offers non-stop shocks. Pundits often observe that the drama from the present political administration is so extreme that, if it were written in a screenplay, nobody or no studio would buy it. The real world has surpassed scripts. Trashing mom’s house feels tame.
The color-blind casting works here. But race beyond the fourth wall has been demonized and weaponized, creating a now-quaint time capsule on stage.