“TOPDOG/UNDERDOG”: Performances are underway for “Topdog/Underdog.” Written by Suzan-Lori Parks, and directed by marcus d. harvey, the play runs through March 9 at Passage Theatre. Above, from left: brothers Lincoln (Steven St. Pierre) and Booth (Anthony Vaughn Merchant) play a high-stakes game of three-card monte. (Photo by Habiyb Shu’Aib)

By Donald H. Sanborn III

Three-card monte is a gambling game in which the dealer displays three cards. After shuffling the cards and placing them face down, the dealer challenges players to bet that they can correctly locate a certain card. Showmanship and sleight of hand are crucial to successfully manipulating a player, or “mark,” into losing.

In Topdog/Underdog (2001), playwright Suzan-Lori Parks depicts two African American brothers whose tense relationship comes to be defined by three-card monte.

Lincoln is a former hustler who seems to have put the game behind him; Booth aims to emulate his older brother’s success as a dealer. Both brothers, especially Booth, let the game’s concomitant bluffing and calculation extend from the game to their personal interactions, particularly with each other.

Topdog/Underdog premiered Off-Broadway in 2021; it opened on Broadway the following year. In 2002 Parks received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and the Outer Critics Circle Award. In 2023 the show won the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play. (The play previously was reviewed in these pages when Princeton Summer Theater staged it in 2019. )

To celebrate Black History Month, Passage Theatre is presenting the Trenton premiere of Topdog/Underdog. As the theater’s website notes, this is the “first Broadway script to ever be produced on the Passage stage.”

The gritty, intimate production is directed by marcus d. harvey, who lets both actors break the fourth wall to maximize audience engagement.

“This play, which explores the complexity of Black male identity, brotherhood, and the generational cycles of grief, speaks to me not only as an artist but also as someone who carries the lived experiences of being Black in America,” harvey explains in a program note. “I hope to create a mirror for the Black men of Trenton to see themselves – their struggles, their hopes, their heartbreak, and their perseverance — reflected on stage.”

A central aspect of the staging is the frequent juxtaposition of swift, showy movement against stillness. This is clear from the beginning; Booth (portrayed by Anthony Vaughn Merchant) opens the play by challenging the audience to a game of three-card monte — while Lincoln (Steven St. Pierre), standing silently in the background, appears to observe the proceedings.

As Merchant charismatically delivers Booth’s opening monologue he makes eye contact with, and addresses, individual members of the audience. The smoothness with which he glides around the stage matches the swift dexterity he displays in manipulating the cards.

Lincoln now earns money at a carnival arcade by impersonating the famous president for whom he is named (work that repulses both brothers). This entails wearing whiteface and pretending to be shot. Booth persistently attempts to persuade Lincoln to abandon his current job and join him in hustling. Lincoln appears unwilling to sacrifice his limited but steady income, and is less than impressed by Booth’s skill at the game (later we catch hints that Booth made a costly mistake during a round in which Lincoln was the dealer).

The brothers share a cramped one-room apartment that does not even seem to have proper plumbing. Lincoln has moved in with Booth after being thrown out by his ex-wife. Booth often reminds him that this arrangement is supposed to be temporary, although Lincoln is the sole breadwinner. (We get a sense of the brothers’ impoverishment when Booth takes Lincoln’s earnings and carefully budgets the cash, allotting himself a bit of money to spend on a date.)

Anthony Wiegand’s set is artfully claustrophobic. A window shows the room’s close proximity to the building next to it, which is covered in graffiti (designed by Billy MF Brown). The plaster on the walks is peeling to such an extent that we can see the building’s outer wooden slats, which let in a glimpse of skylight.

The projections by Damien Figueras offer a further view of the outside world, specifically the grit of the city; at one point the footage seems to be from a character’s point of view. Figueras also contributes the sound design, which heightens the impact of the play’s climax, as does the lighting by Danie Taylor. Taylor’s lighting also is striking during Booth’s opening monologue.

Throughout the play it is made clear to us that bluffing and sleight of hand are skills that Booth uses for more than just gambling. He is a deft thief; in one memorable scene, we see him take off one stolen suit to reveal another (eventually he gives one of the suits to Lincoln).

Booth announces that he has stolen the suits because he has a date with a woman named Grace. Later, with swagger that distinctly echoes the bravado that infuses his gambling banter, he boasts enthusiastically about his evening. (Given the time he spends practicing bluffing at cards, we are led to wonder whether or not Grace really exists.)

Later, while Booth is asleep, it is Lincoln’s turn to practice hustling three-card monte (a conversation with Booth having sparked his motivation to consider returning to the game). Like Booth, Lincoln addresses random members of the audience as he practices. The segment flips the opening scene; Booth is lying still, and Lincoln is moving swiftly to manipulate the placement of cards. As St. Pierre delivers the monologue, he lets Lincoln drop some of his calculating reserve in favor of an imitation of Booth’s bluster.

This central scene, and the sequence in which one suit is removed to reveal another, aptly reflects the play’s exploration of the theme of identities — specifically the conflict between trying to forge one’s own identity, and the desire (whether self-imposed or due to family or cultural pressure) to imitate that of another person.

Except for the scene with the suits, Costume Designer Tiffany Bacon generally keeps Lincoln in an outfit that resembles that of his namesake, though in the privacy of the apartment he occasionally removes it to reveal a simple tank top. The freer-spirited Booth wears more casual sweats and T-shirts.

Due to consistently strong performances from both actors, and perhaps partly due to the intimacy of the space, Passage’s production allows the audience to feel the consistent tension between the brothers.

There are periods of comparative calm, even joviality, but harvey and the actors ensure that this underlying tension — caused by painful events in the brothers’ past, as well as their present circumstances — always is palpable, ready to erupt at any moment.

As the title suggests, both brothers are, by turns, both top dog and underdog. Therein lies the source of the conflict – which, thanks to both the script and the performances, steadily builds up to a violent climax (effectively staged by Fight Choreographer Anthony Domingues).

Arguably, the brothers’ lives reflect three-card monte; metaphorically, each brother has at least one “wrong” card. Lincoln has the security of a steady job and is (from his perspective) more streetwise than his younger brother, but he lacks his own place (and, from Booths point of view, ambition). Booth has ambition and a living space, but (from Lincoln’s point of view) naively lacks knowledge of how the game, and the world, really works.

A Passage press release describes Topdog/Underdog as “darkly comic.” The comedy stems from the brothers’ everyday banter, as well as the hustler monologues. The play turns darker when it portrays the brothers’ apparent inability to truly bond, due to their incessant jockeying for the position of “top dog.” But the immediacy of Passage’s powerful production makes that jockeying entertaining, and moving, to watch.

“Topdog/Underdog” will play at Passage Theatre in the Mill Hill Playhouse, 205 East Front Street in Trenton, through March 9. The play contains mature themes including sexuality and violence. For tickets, show times, and further information call (609) 392-0766 or visit passagetheatre.org.