“TRUE WEST”: Performances are underway for Princeton Summer Theater’s production of “True West.” Directed by Wasif Sami, the play runs through August 1 at Princeton University’s Hamilton Murray Theater. Above, from left: Austin (Jordan Rashdan) unwillingly transcribes an outline for his brother, Lee (Joe McLean), who conceives an idea for an epic Western film. (Photo by Lucy Shea)
By Donald H. Sanborn III
Princeton Summer Theater is concluding its season with True West. Playwright Sam Shepard’s harsh, gritty drama portrays two brothers who spar over almost everything — including car keys, slices of toast, and a film script that incites a reversal of fortune.
True West (1980), which has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, portrays sibling rivalry taken to an extreme. It is a cautionary tale about the excesses of (somewhat stereotypical) unchecked masculinity. Director Wasif Sami guides the leading duo of actors through a performance that lets the palpable tension between the brothers steadily rise until it erupts — or rather, experiences a series of eruptions, each one bigger and more damaging than the last.
On the surface, the contrast between the two Southern California natives seems to be stark. One (we are told) is happily married with a family, and is a relatively successful writer who cherishes an ambition to sell a screenplay. The other is a wandering thief.
However, neither of them is on good terms with their father, a desert-dwelling alcoholic who seems to have abandoned the family. The brothers share wanderlust, an inability to be satisfied, and an outsized ego that will not permit them to put aside their differences and work together.
Austin (deceptively infused with prim reserve by Jordan Rashdan) is at work on a treatment for a film script, in which he aims to interest a prominent Hollywood producer. He is house sitting for his mom (Shaelin McKenna), who is vacationing
in Alaska.
Even before the performance officially begins, we see Austin in his mother’s kitchen, studiously at work on a typewriter. Naveen Bhatia and Changhai Cordle’s sound design effectively establishes a rural setting with chirping crickets; while country music — including Johnny Cash’s “Further Up the Road,” Townes Van Zandt’s “Waiting Around to Die,” and Waylon Jennings’ “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” — sets the play’s tone and atmosphere.
Austin’s comparatively unrefined older brother Lee (an authoritative, vociferous Joe McLean) enters and guzzles beer as he distracts Austin with a series of short questions and comments. The latter patiently responds, obviously trying to say what is needed to end the encounter. The conversation is cordial enough, but already palpable tension makes it obvious that the brothers’ relationship is strained.
Both actors’ body language and delivery of lines thoroughly illustrate the contrast between their characters. McLean, who assertively infuses Lee’s dialogue with clipped phrasing and plenty of volume, favors angular motions that often show his arms confidently outstretched.
Rashdan is comparatively soft-spoken; we can tell that at some point Austin has been deferential to Lee, or at least has prioritized minimizing conflict with his older brother. Rashdan lets Austin be prone to defensive postures, including arms folded tightly over his chest, that try to preserve his personal space.
Costume Designer Didi Vekri keeps Lee in the same clothes for much of the show, suggesting that his life is stagnant. The apparently more successful Austin changes outfits, evincing an upward progression of life changes, or at least an attempt thereof.
Austin wants Lee out of the house because the producer he hopes to impress, Saul (a debonair Jacob Schorsch), is coming to read and assess Austin’s film outline. Lee agrees to leave, in return for Austin’s car keys, which the latter has been reluctant to lend his brother.
Because all of the action is confined to the kitchen, Jeff Van Velsor’s set is able to be elaborately detailed. (Pearl Agel is the production’s scenic artist.) Appropriately, the kitchen table (where both Austin’s writing and almost all of the conversations happen) is in the center of the room, while a cabinet holding some potted plants is off to the side — outside the brothers’ focus, and ours.
At one end of the kitchen is a lone window. It, and a chandelier whose bulbs seem to peer down at the action, are the primary sources of illumination for much of the show. In addition to demarcating day and moonlight nighttime, Florencia Curchitser’s lighting shifts our focus between the two brothers, letting one fade from view while the other remains — just as an unexpectedly successful pitch will shift Saul’s focus from one to the other.
The smooth-talking but unpredictable Saul is receptive to Austin’s outline, but before they can finalize an agreement Lee enters, carrying a television he has stolen. To Austin’s dismay, Lee and Saul bond over golf (a game that he does not play), and plan to play a round the next morning. Exacerbating Austin’s discomfiture, Saul responds positively to an idea for a Western that the more charismatic Lee spontaneously pitches.
The next day Lee returns home from the golf game with a set of clubs that have been given to him by Saul. He tells Austin that the clubs are part of an advance that Saul has offered him for the Western idea. Austin is happy for him until he learns that he is expected to write the script; Saul has opted to drop Austin’s idea in favor of Lee’s.
Confronting Saul, an increasingly bitter Austin theorizes that Saul commissioned Lee’s story (which Austin finds lacking in merit) because the latter won the golf game. This, along with Austin’s refusal
to adapt Lee’s story into a screenplay, alienates Saul, who plans to hire another writer to develop Lee’s idea.
It is tempting to theorize that Saul, along with his sought-after approval, is a substitute for the brothers’ offstage (read: absent) and flawed father, whose problematic relationship with his sons is repeatedly a topic of conversation.
With Lee having succeeded at Austin’s goal, Austin resolves to try his hand at burglary. In a reversal of earlier tableaux, we find Lee studiously typing and being interrupted by an increasingly drunk Austin, who enters with an armful of stolen toasters (which later are used to make
an absurdly high stack of toast).
Generally, the relationship between the brothers only worsens. At the kitchen’s distinct expense, a battle of words gives way to physical aggression (and a sequence well choreographed by Fight Director Darren Kinzler).
Mom does not enter until the play is almost over. McKenna is talented, albeit underused, in the small role. The character arguably is under-written, though perhaps that is the point. Like the brothers’ father, she may have been a too infrequent presence in their lives. At least in part, perhaps a lack of her influence is to blame for the brothers’ behavior — as well as their relationship
Nevertheless, McKenna takes full advantage of the stage time that her character is given, delivering a memorable performance. She is able to accomplish much with vocal inflections and facial expressions. Mom’s reaction to the state of her kitchen — and the fact one of the first things she notices is the complete neglect of her houseplants — is telling.
True West offers an intense conclusion to a season whose aim seems to have been to reflect on various periods of the 20th century — examining character dynamics, societal mores, and entertainment. PST’s production of Shepard’s drama is distinguished by some deft direction and design choices; and especially the raw energy and power that the lead actors bring to it.
“True West” will play at the Hamilton Murray Theater in Murray Dodge Hall, Princeton University, through August 1. For tickets, show times, and further information, visit princetonsummertheater.org.