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'Buried Child' is mesmerizing
(by Herb Hammer - October 09, 2008)
THEATER, BY HERB HAMMER
'Buried Child' is mesmerizing
We are in the living room of a dilapidated Illinois farmhouse. The old man on the sofa wheezes and coughs and appears to be choking. This is the opening scene in Sam Shepard's 1979 Pulitzer Prize-winning play "Buried Child."
Arguably Mr. Shepard's best play, "Buried Child" has been constantly revived. This time it's playing at Convergence-Continuum, the tiny popular theater on Scranton Road in Tremont.
Jim Smith's startling set reveals that there is trouble here, more than anyone in the family talks about. There's a secret that's been destroying them all.
Dodge, the angry old man covered in a security blanket of sorts, is in the middle of an argument with his wife, Halie. This argument must have been going on for years. Halie speaks from the top of a mysterious staircase out of sight.
The characters arrive. They are a broken-down bunch. Tilden has come home after a brief stay in New Mexico, where he apparently left his brains. He has become a kind of semi-idiot. He arrives lugging about a dozen ears of corn that he has just picked from out back. Dodge insists there is no corn out there. He hasn't farmed for years. Next, Tilden brings an armful of carrots. Through it all, Halie comes down the stairs, puts a couple of dollars on the kitchen table for liquor and then leaves.
Bradley, Tilden's brother, who lost his leg in a chain-saw accident, is another son, nasty and dangerous and hung up in the family secret.
Finally, the two-act play opens up when Vince and his girlfriend Shelly arrive. They were on their way to New Mexico to visit Tilden, Vince's father, only to find him back home.
Shelly is a whirlwind. To her, the home is like a Norman Rockwell painting.
As Vince heads to the liquor store, Bradley attacks Shelly, shoving his two fingers down her throat. This bit of violence plays out as a sort of rape scene.
These people are all a little crazy. Vince returns from the liquor store angry. No one remembers him, though he's been gone just six years.
But these six years have gripped the family with their unspoken secret.
Shelly leaves, and the rest, well, they finally have some peace. Dodge dies, and Tilden reveals the terrible secret.
Sam Shepard likes to play with your mind, playing out his plot while something else is going on underneath. His characters eventually appear to be all a little crazy. There are: Dodge, the sick old fool, hacking away on the sofa he never leaves; Bradley, who chops up Dodge's hair while he sleeps, carving his scalp; the hulking Tilden, with something scary behind those staring eyes; and, of course, there's Halie, who plays with her priest. The kindly priest has his own secret. You're left trying to sort out the characters.
Director Clyde Simon gets high marks for drawing excellent performances from his talented cast.
Michael Regnier is the suffering Dodge. Mr. Regnier has nothing to prove. He's always brilliant. This time he has done wonders in the role.
Cliff Bailey is a startling Tilden, practically taking over the stage.
Lauren Smith is a perky Shelly until she can't take it anymore. She alone brightens the play.
Geoffrey Hoffman, as the dangerous Bradley crawling around the stage, demanding Shelly give him back his wooden leg, is perfect.
Lucy Bredeson-Smith is always a treat on stage. She plays Halie.
And Tom Kondilas is just right as Vince.
Tony Thai provides the sound, the eerie music that runs through nearly all of the play. His sounds fit perfectly into the plot.
"Buried Child" is a mesmerizing work. The play was revived on Broadway in 1996 and will always be playing somewhere. No one, however, can perform it better than Convergence-Continuum.
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