Clybourne Park

Will Self's "Quantity Theory of Insanity" - where a mental health improvement in one place, leads to a decrease somewhere else - might best explain the evil that is passed down generationally in Clybourne Park, the 2011 Pulitzer Prize-winning play by Bruce Norris, a diptych on racism and sin. There's a constant amount on the universal balance sheet. You can block or mitigate it effectively at one point, but it will seep back in at others. Starting with a backward look to Lorraine Hansberry's 1950s A Raisin in the Sun in Act I, where the evil is localized, it becomes more Mr. Norris's terrain by Act II, when it becomes diffuse, and feels like a sequel to his The Pain and The Itch (2005) in tone and symbolism. Something is undermining the foundation of this world and the fingers are pointing everywhere except inward.

What Do We Talk About When We Talk About Race? Well, we talk about property values, fitting in socially, and having a sense of community as well as gentrification, taste, zoning laws, play 20 Questions, or tell bad jokes. Or maybe we just go to theater where seeing ourselves fail to communicate remains the first best step in overcoming barriers. Though it's set in Chicago, where it will finally open next month, it could happen here or any urban area.

The Woolly Mammoth Theatre production, now on its second, separate limited run (to 8/14) - it mounted the area premiere to critical acclaim early last year - is moving ahead at full exposure. Under the bold direction of Howard Shalwitz, Clybourne Park is like a foot in the door that you are unable to close. In addition to having a very good play to work with, by virtue of its two distinct parts - with different time periods, activities, and characters - these well-cast actors are able to explore their range in multiple roles. It's like seeing two plays in repertory.

When the lights come up on scenic designer James Kronzer's monolithic house in 1959, Russ (Mitchell Hébert) and Bev (Jennifer Mendenhall) are in the process of moving from their comfortable city home to the suburbs. The disorder in the house reflects the discord in their marriage. Their maid Francine (Dawn Ursula) serves somewhat as a buffer between the two and the outside world, soon to make its presence felt with a visiting minister Jim (Michael Glenn) and neighborhood housing sentinel Karl (Cody Nickell) and his pregnant wife Betsy (Kimberly Gilbert), who is a deaf-mute, and things are about to get lively. Francine's husband (Jefferson A. Russell) joins mid-point in the fray. There are a couple of revelations that drive the action, but the more apparent one is that unbeknownst to everyone except Karl, the new owners, using the language of the play, are "colored or Negroes." There's a reason for this arms-length sale, which I won't divulge, and a perfectly legal, if not completely ethical, one at that. Mr. Nickell as the insistent Karl reshapes his body and delivery for a riveting portrayal of villainy. Mr. Hébert rises to eloquent heights of righteous anger and abject despair in his characterization of Russ. You'll see it again at the finale.

Mr. Kronzer's imposing house of a set, emotionally shaded by lighting designer Colin K. Bills, does not so much tower over the audience as lie embedded within it (theatergoers actually peer out of a wing). The stripped-down quick change between acts feels like time-lapse photography as the bones of this residence are laid bare along with its secrets, as we skip from the Greatest Generation to Gen X. Matt Otto's sound and the costumes of Helen Huang likewise move from the muted and mellow to the loud and vibrant.

Flash forward 50 years In Act II to 2009, the same cast, in different roles, gathers to discuss and implement new homeowner restrictions being placed on Steve (Cody Nickell) and Lindsey's (the now talkative Kimberly Gilbert) imminent reconstruction of their recently purchased home, the by now dilapidated residence, which is effectively being gutted. It's payback time in this karmic world, where past sins greet the largely innocent with retributive justice. If Act I presented a problematic bunch of characters, those trotted out in the second half are a truly insufferable lot. The new kids on the block are represented by their architect's attorney Kathy (Jennifer Mendenhall). Overseeing the construction for the community Home Owner's Association is Tom (Michael Glenn) and longtime residents, an African-American couple, Kevin (Russell A. Jefferson) and Lena (Dawn Ursula). Making the scene complete for the moment is contractor Dan (Mitchell Hébert). Mr. Nickell is again the focal point of group acrimony in his portrayal of fast-talking, foot-in-the-mouth Steve, while Ms. Ursula is a delight as the historically-minded Lena. Ms. Mendenhall owns Midwest niceness and comic rectitude in her well-timed performance as Kathy (she reminded me of Joan Cusack). The fast-paced Act gets dizzying at times, with overlapping lines and multiple conversations and asides, while the stakes keep getting raised on what amounts to a Jerry Springer moment: everyone joins in on a tasteless joke jamboree offending all the characters, to the groans and exuberant laughter of the audience, and fists fly.

That Clybourne Park won a Pulitzer Prize for drama tells you several things about the work: 1) it is a well-made play, 2) it has high literary merit, and 3) it is topical within the context of today's hot button issues. Having read and seen the play, I can tell you it successfully meets these criteria in a most satisfying manner. Nonetheless, the situations are somewhat conventional, and the parts are a bit overdrawn, almost to the point of stereotype, especially in the first Act. True, the language games - name that derivation or capital city - tell you something about the characters, but the extent to which these discursive individuals wander off on their own egocentric trips gets taxing for the audience. The word games do point to a fundamental problem in communication. If the characters can't get the trivial matters right, how will they deal with the consequential issues that confront them? Yet, this is tough to pull off dramatically. Thus, the first Act gets off to a slow start and the second Act bogs down initially.

Mr. Norris as an actor knows how to play a scene, so there is always a character (or a group) that wants something and another who wants to withhold it. When it relates to the twin themes of race and family tragedy, the conflicts work well, but when petty issues drive the dynamic, they become distracting. The marital discord, score settling, and gender tensions make for laughs, but in the end, not much is accomplished. You'll leave your seat, if none the wiser, definitely entertained. What begins as a melodrama ends in the past with a missed opportunity, much like the play.

Still this award-winning production has everything else going for it, along with the best ensemble acting you'll see east of the Steppenwolf. And Mr. Shalwitz's staging along with Mr. Kronzer's set will get you to thinking about theater in a very personal way. Drop in and pay a visit while you can. *************************************************************************************

Applause meter: Highly recommended, 4+ hands out of 5- the best thing on the boards.

Moment of the Play: Bad joke smackdown at the bottom of Act II. Hey, it shows we're all equal!

Stars of the Play: 1) (Tied) Cody Nickell as Karl and Steve & Mitchell Hébert as Russ and Dan, 2) Director Howard Shalwitz, and 3) Scenic designer James Kronzer.

Runtime: 2:10 with one intermission