There isn’t another American writer simultaneously as intuitively theatrical and intellectually evocative as Suzan-Lori Parks (“The Book of Grace,” “Father Comes Home from the Wars (Parts 1, 2, & 3)”), which means that her plays don’t seem to grow old. They simply take on new, more vibrant colors as they age, shifting with meaning in every new era.
That’s certainly true of her most produced work, the Pulitzer Prize-winning “Topdog/Underdog,” originally staged at the Public Theatre in 2001 and now, 25 years later, receiving a production at Steppenwolf that mirrors the Tony-winning Broadway revival from 2023. As with that revival, Kenny Leon directs with the same set, costume and sound designers as the New York production, but the play now stars two of the company’s most prominent ensemble members: Glenn Davis and Namir Smallwood.
It’s an outstanding production of a play that sits on a slew of best-of lists, largely because it works on multiple levels.
First, it’s simply a realistic kitchen-sink family drama about two brothers, one (Davis) who has forsworn his past of conning people with fast-handed three-card monte scams, and the younger sibling (Smallwood) who wishes to lure his brother back into that life.
At this level, it’s a play about whether an everyday job with indignities and benefits is better than the get-rich-quick attraction of a dangerous hustle, as well as simply about a relatable sibling rivalry. Having been abandoned by both their parents when they were young, the two have developed a relationship filled with repetitive patterns of support and highly personal one-upmanship. The play itself moves between the comic and dramatic.
But there are other layers, of course, and that seems a wild understatement. The brothers are named Lincoln and Booth – their boozy father’s idea of a joke. The older Lincoln’s “honest” job involves dressing up as “Honest” Abe Lincoln in a bizarre arcade act where people can pretend to be John Wilkes Booth and assassinate the emancipating president. In a nod to the brothers’ ever-present economic struggles, there exists the risk that the job will end, going instead to a life-size doll.
Every production must decide where to fall in the broad continuum of emphasizing the meta elements of this show – wherein the brothers Lincoln and Booth rehearse the death of Lincoln so that it can be “juiced up” and practice the performance skills essential to “throw cards.” (In terms of the story, let’s just say it’s as difficult to evade history as it is to win at three-card monte.)
Leon’s production here falls squarely on the side of psychological naturalism. The most theatricalized flourishes are isolated to stylized moments at the end of the scenes and to the heavy gold curtains that drape over and, at the start, cover the playing space, a symbol both of the country’s wealth (the outside curtain has an American flag on it) and of the fact that what we’re watching is a show about people who never stop putting on a show for an audience or each other.
Davis and Smallwood provide us with characters who feel lived-in and a relationship that expresses itself with an easy, entertaining repartee without ever skimping on intimacy or intricacy. The play builds a lot of momentum without seeming to as we become invested in these brothers even more as a team – an act, you might say – than as individuals. Davis gets the older brother’s willingness to share, to give in, and he captures both the slickness of a skilled scammer and the desire to overcome his addiction to it. Smallwood is an actor who has a natural way with an underdog, and how part of protecting oneself involves lashing out to defend one’s limits.
There are some moments that lull just a bit. Davis perhaps underplays the inebriation that can motivate monologues given the realistic choices. There’s also a part of me that felt Smallwood, who is just so unique in his ability to unearth deep damage, could have shown us something more surprising if this had been a blank-slate production.
But no question, this is an intense and ultimately very moving, Broadway-caliber show in relatively intimate environs with a special pair of actors, a director who can make 2001 feel like yesterday and a play that casts new shadows every time it’s encountered.
