Advertisement

NICKEL and CRIME

There's a moment at the very end of David Mamet's American Buffalo,just before the lights go down, when it suddenly becomes clear that for the past two hours you have done nothing but watch three men talk in a single room. The revelation, though simple, can be shocking.

One of the first and finest examples of the new realism that arose in American theater in the '70s, Mamet's play, if done correctly, can transport audiences away from the confines of even the stuffiest theater to the world of small-time Chicago crooks and coin-thieves. And, yes, it is a world. It has a landscape, a language and a code of honor all its own. It is a world where business and crime are synonyms, where friends equal family, and where loyalty is the highest ideal.

The new production of Mamet's masterpiece at the Loeb Ex does far more than simply present this world to those of us who live behind Harvard's ivy-covered gates. It carries us to that world and makes us live and breathe in it so that it's almost a disappointment at the end to discover that we're back in Cambridge, that the world that encompassed us for two hours was made of nothing more than words spoken by actors.

When it premiered in 1975, American Buffalo(Mamet's third play and first major success) shocked audiences with its graphic depictions of life on the fringe of society and its cynical indictment of American capitalism. Just as Arthur Miller'sDeath of a Salesmanspoke to the hopes of the would-be bourgeoisie, Mamet's work speaks to the empty aspirations of America's lesser elements--its junkies and gamblers and crooks, all lost in dreams of profit and free enterprise. Of course, true to form, Mamet speaks with far more crude energy than Miller ever would.

This raw intensity comes bursting through every element of Jesse Kellerman '01's new production. It's hard to imagine Mamet himself wanting it produced any other way. Set designer John Gordon '01 effectively turns the normally empty and foreboding Loeb X into a Chicago junk store cluttered nearly to the point of confusion, a maze for Mamet's unlikely heroes to negotiate as they struggle through the world. Behind all the rusty typewriters and lamps, however, the walls are a stark gray. Add to this the hauntingly pale lighting of Ali Ruth Davis '00, and Mamet's maze of a junk store begins to resemble the prison that it is for his characters.

Advertisement

The true strength of Kellerman's production, of course, lies in the sheer power of his cast. As Teach, Don and Bobby, Mamet's trilogy of lowlifes, James Carmichael '00, Jonah St. Newmouth and Jonathan Steinberger '00 command the audience's unblinking attention for two straight hours with ease. It's nearly impossible to rank their performances in any meaningful sense. Steinberger presents an almost scarily realistic portrait of Bobby, Mamet's junkie with a heart of gold, while Carmichael brilliantly portrays the overly energetic and manipulative Teach. St. Newmouth as Don plays the calm anchor for the group who will eventually mastermind their shot at a better life--a risky rare coin heist.

Kellerman's actors play off of each other with such skill that it's useless to think of them as anything but an ensemble. And this is exactly what Mamet's piece calls for. American Buffalo is not so much about what happens to these characters as it is about how they interact, how they yell and fight and make up, how they desperately need each other because they have nothing else in the world. His ability to portray this sense of need, this soft underside to Mamet's otherwise brutal play, is Kellerman's greatest strength as the director of this piece. He's found what many directors (even Mamet himself at times) lose when they approach Mamet's characteristically coarse works: the compassion, even tenderness that lies beneath the surface. As much as it is an indictment of greed and corruption, American Buffalo is also a vindication of human bonds. Even in the toughest of worlds, it says, there is still a place for mercy. AMERICAN BUFFALO . AT THE LOEB EX . APRIL 23-26

Recommended Articles

Advertisement