Tracy Letts in Last of the Boys

However, their present offering, Steven Dietz’ Last of the Boys, makes their formula work. Here we have a truly intriguing group of people, idiosyncratic and deep, gathered by a playwright who has something to say and some truly lyric ways of saying it.

Ben (Tracy Letts) lives at the end of nowhere in a small trailer that sits on a wasteland—an abandoned Superfund clean up site. He‘s hosting an annual visit from an old friend Jeeter (John Judd) with whom he served in Vietnam. Jeeter has arrived after attending the funeral of Ben’s father. He’s also brought a younger woman, Salyer (Mariann Mayberry), that he picked up on the road.

Ben’s stuck and Jeeter seems to want to shake him loose, but Ben is also channeling the spirit of Robert McNamara, the man who helped plan U.S. involvement in Vietnam. He’s also seeing the ghost of a young soldier (Christopher McLinden) who apparently died in that conflict.

That’s just a taste. There’s a lot more overtly symbolic stuff going on. Salyer has had the names from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial tattooed over her body. Ben, as McNamara, goes through a ritualistic washing process. And woven into all this is a more conventional story of Jeeter’s betrayal and Salyer’s mother’s (Amy Morton) appearance to retrieve her. The mix works surprisingly well, if not perfectly. Some plot points become obscured by the symbolism and some of the symbolism doesn‘t make complete sense. But it’s an intriguing mix that the audience can chew on after leaving the theatre.

Judd and Letts do exceptional work in the two men, particularly Letts in the less showy, but much more difficult role of Ben. The women are less strong. Morton takes a negative character and doesn‘t bring much more to it, while Mayberry mixes some interesting choices with some screechy ones. Mainly, though, the two women are more likely to pass as sisters than as mother-daughter.

Todd Rosenthal offers a picture-perfect set design of trailer and sandbags—one of the best uses of the Steppenwolf space I’ve seen. Ann G. Wrightson’s lights complement the set extremely well, walking the fine line between naturalistic and expressionistic.

Director Rick Snyder has brought together a truly thought-provoking production that supports the script wonderfully. Last of the Boys offers great roles for its actors, but succeeds on a deeper level, offering a great story for its audience.

Last of the Boys—Steppenwolf Theatre Co.

Chris Jones, Tribune—“America remains emotional, confused, ill at ease, haunted and generally cleft in twain by Vietnam. So you could make a great case that such a singularly divisive conflict—and the subsequent cultural detritus—can be adequately represented only by a play as messed-up as that war. In that regard, Steven Dietz’s Last of the Boys, the institutionally apt opening show in Steppenwolf’s 30th anniversary season, most assuredly delivers. This deeply complicated play seethes with confused style, mixed purpose and political emotion with nowhere to go. Rick Snyder’s restless, bizarrely cast Steppenwolf production matches that passionate confusion, gesture for word.”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“Ghosts appear and disappear in this play, which received its Midwest premiere over the weekend at the Steppenwolf Theatre—a production, not incidentally, so blisteringly good that it should immediately be airlifted onto a Broadway stage. And these ghosts are in many ways permanent residents in the bodies and psyches of those who fought in the war, as well as those who became its indirect casualties. Their presence creates a restless, burning, grief-stricken, damaged quality in their hosts. But it doesn‘t prevent the eruption of great bursts of pitch-black humor—comic explosions that detonate from time to time as if someone had just tripped over a forgotten hand grenade.”

Kelly Kleiman, Reader—“Steven Dietz’s dark comedy concerns two Vietnam vets whose reunion stirs an exchange of reminiscences and recriminations. Dietz has a good ear and a nice sense of humor, and under Rick Snyder’s fluid direction, the play shows every cast member to advantage. But the play purports to be a critique of mythmaking when in fact it’s a florid example of it.”

John Beer, New City—“Dietz’s dramatic imagination, like Jeeter’s playful similes, shows some signs of strain; he walks a fine line between surprise and pure implausibility. But he offers an engaging, haunting reflection on the grip of old traumas, both personal and national, and the power of the play’s central images makes complaints that they might be overdetermined seem petty. Letts and Judd bring a finely honed interplay to their central roles; the play’s female characters have to bear heavier burdens of symbolic freight, but Amy Morton and Mariann Mayberry manage to imbue them with signs of real life.”

Lawrence Bommer, Free Press—“Not much happens here because Dietz is more interested in raising issues about who owns the ‘60s than probing the problem. Despite the blue-collar realism of Rick Snyder’s concentrated Steppenwolf staging, these haunted souls exist more as case histories of unprocessed pain than as real folks with actual pasts that won‘t let them live. This failure of nerve is most obvious in the climax, where a symbolic MacNamara gets his head thrust repeatedly into a bucket of water by the ghost of a dead soldier. It’s just more unearned symbolism in a discursive drama that’s all dressed up (thanks to Todd Rosenthal’s eloquently desolate set) with nowhere to go.”

Rick Reed, Windy City—“Although there has been some powerful artistry and contemplation on what happened in Vietnam, I don‘t think I‘ve seen any as powerful as what’s now on stage at Steppenwolf… Rick Snyder’s staging of this season opener reflects his intensity for the personal filtered through the universal. The first act of Last of the Boys is, in its languorous way, perhaps a little too careful in setting everything up: the pacing could be tightened. But the second act benefits from the careful foundation: it’s shattering and its careful revelations and haunting imagery stick with you long after you leave the theater.”

Echoes of Another Man—Stage Left Theatre

Chris Jones, Tribune—“Clearly, there’s plenty here to occupy two hours worth of traffic on the Stage Left stage under the direction of Kevin Heckman. And McCullough, one of Chicago’s most promising young writers, is skilled enough to build the right complications. Mostly. Some opportunities are missed. The most interesting issues explored here surround the matter of romantic love and the role therein of brain and body. The artist/golfer guy (played by Cory Krebsbach) finds himself attracted to his donor’s wife (conveniently hanging around the hospital), even if his brain hasn‘t met her before. Perhaps a body has memory?”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“With her new play Echoes of Another Man, Chicago playwright Mia McCullough has created a fantastic dramatic vehicle—one that poses complex questions about the relationship between mind and body, the nature of love and death, the source of artistic talent, the roots of identity, and some of the thornier ethical and social issues raised by increasingly radical medical ‘breakthroughs.’ She also may very well have written a script that could become the next hot property in Hollywood.”

Kerry Reid, Reader—“The brain of a famous—and famously dysfunctional—artist is transplanted into a comatose pro golfer in order to keep the artist alive, in this new drama by Mia McCullough. It would be easy to ding this play for its resemblance to other sci-fi surgery stories, particularly Flowers for Algernon. But McCullough wastes little time on moralizing about medical ethics in this deeply humane tale. Under Kevin Heckman’s taut direction, McCullough’s story focuses instead on an essential question: What makes us who we are? As the golfer‘s widow, Cat Dean delivers one of the most heartbreaking performances I‘ve seen this year.”

John Beer, New City—“While the questions that McCullough explores are fascinating in their own right, and arguably ones that may take on increasing relevance in the brave new days to come, the very meticulous approach that brings these questions out keeps the play from coming entirely to life. For instance, what really seems like monstrous cruelty on the part of the dying patient (Cory Krebsbach) toward his brain’s former lover Raina (Marguerite Hammersley) winds up just another marker of the characters‘ relationships. Stage Left’s workable production leaves lots of food for thought, but less brain and more heart is in order.”

Jenn Q. Goddu, Free Press—“McCullough lets each of these varied characters interact with the patient and each other to give her play a prismatic perspective of not just medical ethics but also human relationships, grief and survivor’s guilt. It’s a richly layered script well served by Kevin Heckman’s direction, Sylvia Arnstein’s visual art, and the ensemble of actors. Cory Krebsbach brings life to the patient. His infant-like re-learning of simple skills such as swallowing is credible and his frustration and fear are convincing as he comes to understand more of the repercussions of this particular medical experiment.”

Venus Zarris, Gay Chicago—“I will forgive self-indulgence, underdeveloped subtext, awkward melodrama, uneven acting and technical flaws if there is something thought provoking, ambitious, intriguing and entertaining going on onstage. From this opening line, this review sounds deceptively backhanded, but my intention is not to belittle the efforts of Stage Left Theatre or to discourage you from seeing its Midwest premiere of Echoes of Another Man. On the contrary, my point is that, despite apparent flaws, this production overcomes its shortcomings to deliver a stimulating theatrical experience.”

Editor’s Note: Kevin Heckman, Stage Left’s artistic director, is also PerformInk‘s Listings Editor and Review Roundup writer and compiler.

St. Colm’s Inch—Chicago Dramatists

Chris Jones, Tribune—“The play’s problematic confusions—and there are many—start with the existence of Marie as a ghost wandering through the house offering flashbacks and internal conversations. It’s tough to sell this hoary device to an audience these days, especially when the rules are as loose as they are here. And in Anna C. Bahow’s anemically paced production, Rivkin plays Marie as one of those drippy and mournful dead people lost in an ambulant purgatory. As a result, a key emotional relationship has neither the ring of life nor the heft of truth. When they‘re safely among the living, [playwright Rob] Koon and Bahow are on much more solid ground. Much of the dialogue is beautifully written.”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“Marie is viewed both in real-life flashbacks and in deeply felt ‘visitations’ to both her ex-husband and sister. Ordinarily this might seem contrived, but Koon finesses it with grace. He is a fine writer—whether describing the weather, or capturing the young coed who confidently but charmingly seduces her teacher, or suggesting the resentment, awkwardness and allure of a sister-in-law, or finding just the right bite behind phone conversations with in-laws… Director Anna C. Bahow is a director of immense skill and subtlety, with an impeccable eye for casting, and a gift for finding the action in a play about the life of the mind and heart.”

Kelly Kleiman, Reader—“This is the world premiere of Robert Koon‘s drama, about a recovering alcoholic sorting through his ex-wife’s effects after she’s been killed in a traffic accident. This deeply romantic play is neither fatuous nor false. Koon offers a nuanced account of marital love and the bonds between friends and between sisters, and he displays a keen sense of place as well as a gift for three-dimensional characters and complex situations. Expertly directed by Anna C. Bahow, the play intriguingly both resists analysis and demands it.”

Nina Metz, New City—“The play hardly needs additional plot, and yet playwright Robert Koon piles it on by inserting the ghost of Marie (John‘s ex-wife), an anthropomorphic version of the dead who wanders through scenes wearing a ratty cardigan and a beatific gaze. Her presence weighs down what would otherwise be an affecting story about people at odds with themselves, a character type Koon captured with equal dexterity in 2002’s Vintage Red and the Dust of the Rose. Here is a playwright who knows how to capture the dry humor of everyday talk, but the scenarios involving Marie, the cloying apparition, nearly drown out the good stuff.”

Rick Reed, Windy City—“St. Colm’s Inch, directed with a steady hand by Anna C. Bahow and performed by a mostly exemplary ensemble, is a good production that lacks the benefit of a strong script. It’s hard to criticize work that, as I said above, is so earnest and well-meaning. But, as a playwright, Koon works too hard. We see his desire to be meaningful in every scene. Every word, every gesture has import. His themes are universal. These are all good things, as long as we don‘t see the wizard behind the curtain. Unfortunately, Koon’s lever pulling is all too labored and obvious.”

The Talisman Ring—Lifeline Theatre

Chris Jones, Tribune—“Dorothy Milne’s production lacks any and all heft or substance, but it’s a most jolly couple of hours acted with great charm and oozing with throaty giggles. Among a uniformly solid cast, Peter Greenberg reprises his deer-in-the-headlights Sir Tristram Shield (now there‘s a name) from the last version. And as Miss Sarah Thane, Elizabeth Dowling offers a touch of ripe, Emma Thompson-like insouciance. But the most yuks of the night flow from the diminutive Kelly Leaman as Mme Eustacie de Vauban, who sports a French accent just safely this side of Inspector Clouseau.”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“Yet this should in no way prevent you from giving yourself over completely to the giddy high spirits of Christina Calvit’s sharp, drolly funny stage adaptation of Heyer’s popular book. Nor should it deter you from giggling your way through director Dorothy Milne‘s breathlessly stylish production of the work, now onstage at Lifeline Theatre…They (the cast) simultaneously can cross swords in fierce combat in a space about the size of a galley kitchen, finesse accents from both sides of the English Channel and transform pure fluff into...well, an even more distilled and delicious form of that aforementioned fluff.”

Mary Shen Barnidge, Reader—“Georgette Heyer’s 1936 novel, a romantic swashbuckler set in 18th-century England, is adapted for the stage by playwright Christina Calvit and director Dorothy Milne. The nimble cast deliver lighter-than-air intrigue sure to please romantics of all ages.”