The last time a Tracy Letts play came straight to Broadway from the Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago, it won the Tony for best play and the Pulitzer Prize for drama. That's a pretty high precedent to live up to with the latest transplant, Superior Donuts. Let me be the first (or twenty-ith) to call it: Superior Donuts will NOT win a Pulitzer Prize. But some people act like that's the new standard of a play's enjoyability, which is clearly not true.
Letts' dialogue has the same cutting wit and easy, intelligent humor we're used to from him; the first act flys by amidst cascades of laughter and delight-driven, spontaneous applause. Jon Michael Hill, who plays Franco, the donut shop's new assistant, is INCREDIBLE, and a definite name to watch out for in the future. He verbally spars with Arthur, the shop's owner, played by Michael McKean (of the Christopher Guest movie franchise). McKean is so well disguised by his hair and makeup as an antique hippie that I didn't recognize him, even though he's appeared in every TV show and movie imaginable. The role of Arthur is not easy, and while McKean holds his own, his portrayal is not overly memorable. Yasen Peyankov, however, is excellent as a Russian (duh) fellow business-owner. Peyankov has been with the Steppenwolf ensemble for years, and I've previously had the pleasure of seeing him in both The Pillowman and The Diary of Anne Frank in Chicago.
The difference between acts one and two is literally night and day. Act one dazzles and uplifts, while periodically portending the consequences of tragic flaws. In act two, the shit hits the fan, and everyone is left picking up the pieces, in keeping with the play's dialogue regarding the disenchantments of maturity and the punishments of life. None of the plot turns are truly surprising, and the denouement is a bit hokey and trite. However, by that point, I was so invested in the characters that I was still brought to tears. Unlike August, the audience is not presented with three generations' worth of dysfunction to feast and mull upon, but Letts is still very much in touch with both the dark and the light sides of life, depicting characters with heart, hurt, regrets, and potential in a dignified if painfully honest way. Witnessing that makes one compassionate, instead of feeling, well, you know...
@ the Music Box Theater, 239 W 45th Street
Letts' dialogue has the same cutting wit and easy, intelligent humor we're used to from him; the first act flys by amidst cascades of laughter and delight-driven, spontaneous applause. Jon Michael Hill, who plays Franco, the donut shop's new assistant, is INCREDIBLE, and a definite name to watch out for in the future. He verbally spars with Arthur, the shop's owner, played by Michael McKean (of the Christopher Guest movie franchise). McKean is so well disguised by his hair and makeup as an antique hippie that I didn't recognize him, even though he's appeared in every TV show and movie imaginable. The role of Arthur is not easy, and while McKean holds his own, his portrayal is not overly memorable. Yasen Peyankov, however, is excellent as a Russian (duh) fellow business-owner. Peyankov has been with the Steppenwolf ensemble for years, and I've previously had the pleasure of seeing him in both The Pillowman and The Diary of Anne Frank in Chicago.
The difference between acts one and two is literally night and day. Act one dazzles and uplifts, while periodically portending the consequences of tragic flaws. In act two, the shit hits the fan, and everyone is left picking up the pieces, in keeping with the play's dialogue regarding the disenchantments of maturity and the punishments of life. None of the plot turns are truly surprising, and the denouement is a bit hokey and trite. However, by that point, I was so invested in the characters that I was still brought to tears. Unlike August, the audience is not presented with three generations' worth of dysfunction to feast and mull upon, but Letts is still very much in touch with both the dark and the light sides of life, depicting characters with heart, hurt, regrets, and potential in a dignified if painfully honest way. Witnessing that makes one compassionate, instead of feeling, well, you know...
@ the Music Box Theater, 239 W 45th Street
