Plays: 'Buried Child' - Generations of dysfunction in pouring rain

The dysfunctional family makes for great dramatic material. From Sophocles's Oedipus Rex to Rick Moody's The Ice Storm, a peek into families as messed up as our own, or better yet even more messed up, can be disturbing, moving, and to some extent, comforting. In Sam Shepard's Buried Child, the dysfunction is everywhere. It's Twin Peaks meets Ricki Lake, where family tragedies and past secrets unravel to reveal the true psychoses of the characters.

A constant rain sets the somber mood that permeates the first half of the show. Dodge, an alcoholic ex-farmer, spends a typical day sitting on the couch arguing with his shrill and utterly southern wife Halie, who primps and prepares for a day out. For much of the first act, We only see Halie's silhouette as she speaks. As she descends from the staircase to reveal her physical presence, we feel as though she were a familiar aunt or grandmother that we hadn't seen in a long time.

Tilden, Dodge and Halie's half-wit son, peels the ears of exquisite corn that have inexplicably sprouted on the farm. Mundane activites like this serve as a backdrop for the disturbances rumbling below. Dodge is more than just cranky. Halie is less than her controlled facade. And it is clear from the onset that Tilden, dumbly innocent as he appears to be, really knows much more than anyone suspects.

Patrick Jacobi's, SY '98, masterful direction has brought out a wonderful performance from the cast. Ryan Karels, BR '00, comes to life as Dodge, despite spending nearly the entire play in one spot. He achieves so much mood and character without much more than facial expression and voice. The same goes for Noelle Teagno, TC '98, (Halie) who wins us over with her vocalization. The beautiful southern tone is more song than speech and rendered with much texture, particularly as she loses control of her family.

The real action begins when Vince, Tilden's son, returns to visit his grandparents' farm after six years. When he arrives, no one recognizes him--even worse, no one seems to care. As Vince leaves to buy his grandfather whiskey, we suspect he will never return. But he does return, albeit not quite the same.

Vince's (Andrew Grusetskie, TD '98) monologue at the end of the third act is reason enough to see the show--it is pivotal to the understanding of Shepard's play. At this moment we see how the cycle of dysfunction continues, from granpaw, to paw, to son. Vince, who entered as a city boy cool guy, slips into his grandfather's hat, takes a couple drags off his grandfather's cigarette, and becomes the man we saw at the beginning of the show. The transformation is magical and Grusetskie's range as an actor is immediately apparent. It is the most significant and poignant moment in the show.

The sets, by J. Clay Satterfield, PC '98, at first glance appear to be stripped and somewhat sloppy, but reveal their true beauty and texture when hit by Matthew O'Neill's, DC '00, lights. As the show progresses, the combination shows its true success. Strips of stylized southern architecture become magical boxes where much of the acting is done in silhouette, lit from behind. The angles cast beautiful oblique shadows of warm orange and red across the otherwise bleak stage.

Surprisingly, for all the rain that is pouring down in the deluge, the scenes appear jarringly dry save for some mud splashed on the walls. It would have been wonderful had some of the fertile, wet texture, so evident in the sound and the performances, permeated onto the sets. Diana Tuite's, TC '98, costumes were rich, fun, and clearly a joy to pick through.

The Dramat presented both fall shows in the Yale Repertory Theatre this year--a remarkable opportunity for undergraduates to stage a play on what is arguably the best stage on campus, and usually strictly Drama School terrain. After last week's problematic In Perpetuity Throughout the Universe, it is comforting to see Jacobi and the company assemble a production at home and comfortable in the Rep. With Buried Child, the Dramat has produced a show that uses the resources at hand to the fullest extent--a show aware of the space it inhabits and thus successful on the Rep stage.

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