The Minutes – 2017
Image © Michael Brosilow
Chicago Theater Review: ‘The Minutes’ by Tracy Letts By Steven Oxman, Variety
With his new play “The Minutes,” a simmering satire of a small-town city council meeting that evolves — or devolves — into something of a horror tale, Pulitzer-winning playwright Tracy Letts (“August: Osage County”) has written what is nearly certain to be the single work of art that best represents, but will also survive, the Trump era. Letts keeps us amused with subtle comedy about broad but still believable characters, who begin arguing about a parking spot and some lost bicycles, but ultimately reveal one truth after another, the biggest being that American politics has become a raw, ugly battle over our deepest underlying narratives. Or, as the mayor character puts it, “History is a verb.”
William Petersen (“CSI”) plays the slick-but-not-too-slimy Superba, leading a terrific cast of Chicago stage stalwarts at this Steppenwolf Theatre world premiere production, directed by Anna D. Shapiro (who also helmed “August”) and much discussed for a Spring berth on Broadway.
The cast of characters represents a humorously unflattering view of small-time civics in the rainy, unquestionably middle American small town of Big Cherry. To name a few, there’s Mr. Oldfield (Francis Guinan), the longest-serving and frequently befuddled council member for the city of Big Cherry; Mr. Blake (James Vincent Meredith), a non-ideological African-American with alcohol on his breath and an idea to enliven the town’s beloved harvest festival with cage fighting (and, somehow, Abe Lincoln); and Mr. Breeding (Kevin Anderson), the not politically correct, loud laugher who simply doesn’t understand why “normal people” should spend any money on things such as providing the disabled with access to enjoy the city’s fountain.
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As is often the case, the outsider is our way into this world. Mr. Peel (Cliff Chamberlain) is the Jimmy Stewart figure of the story, a clean-scrubbed, new-to-town, and recently elected member who felt called to public service with the birth of his daughter. He missed the previous meeting when his mother passed away, leading to a barrage of condolences but not much information on why another member of the council, Mr. Carp (played in flashback by Ian Barford) suddenly lost his Council seat. And when Mr. Peel looks for the minutes to fill him in on what occurred the week before, they are nowhere to be found, apparently not “prepared for distribution,” despite the sure-footed competence of the carefully quiet council clerk Ms. Johnson (Brittany Burch).
Following his conscience, and his function, Mr. Peel peels away at the story, using his knowledge of obscure bureaucratic notation to pry loose the events of the previous week, which involves a larger history, which as we learn, is not about truth but power.
And this, in the end, is how Letts manages to make this play all about Trumpism without being the slightest bit about Trump. The President goes unmentioned; the play would exist had he not been elected (the first draft was completed shortly after the election). And yet … this play doesn’t just fit the moment, it goes a certain way toward explaining in human — if not pleasant — terms, why when certain stories are exposed as distortions or even blatant untruths, they are only told more forcefully. In a world where Trump becomes president, the truth of “The Minutes” is laid bare: winning means controlling the underlying myths that govern our community interactions, while losing means oblivion.
Chicago Theater Review: ‘The Minutes’ by Tracy Letts
Steppenwolf Theatre, Chicago; 510 seats; $105 top
PRODUCTION: A Steppenwolf Theatre Company production of a play in one act by Tracy Letts. Directed by Anna D. Shapiro. Set, David Zinn; costumes, Ana Kuzmanic; lighting, Brian MacDevitt; sound, Andre Pluess; choreography, Dexter Bullard; vocal coach, Gigi Buffington; stage manager, Christine D. Freeburg. Opened, reviewed Nov. 19, 2017; runs through Jan. 7, 2018.
Review: In Tracy Letts’ ‘The Minutes,’ a town council moves for blood, Chris Jones
Chicago Tribune
In the damp, all-American burg of Big Cherry — the setting for the new Tracy Letts play “The Minutes” — the rambling and esoteric agenda of the town council is filled with the patter of parking and pepper jelly, softball fields and suppers at the Kiwanis. The council is one of part-timers and eccentrics — a dentist, a businessperson or two, a couple of benignly wacky retirees. The gavel belongs to the white-haired wrangler, Mayor Superba, played with the utmost precision in director Anna D. Shapiro’s world premiere Steppenwolf Theatre production by William Petersen. He’s measured, procedural, casually dressed. He grew up believing in his little town. Just like songwriter Paul Simon.
Nothing in this explosive 90-minute drama — which might eventually remind you of William Golding’s “The Lord of the Flies” or Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” or maybe even the Duffer brothers’ “Stranger Things” — is as it seems.
The appeal and the challenge of this frequently riveting, Steppenwolf ensemble-driven play, which is populated by 10 officials and one clerk and is set entirely in a city-council meeting room, is that you know this from the get-go. You know this because anyone who has been paying attention understands that the heartland has atrophied, knows that an intense political and cultural battle is being waged for its soul, has figured out that the level of understanding enjoyed by liberal urbanities of these increasingly foreign, isolated and defensive communities has been diminishing with every Breitbart refresh.
Small-town America has circled its wagons — for good reason, you could argue — and all the elitist, dis-empowered cognoscenti can do is quake, turn its anger on itself and whine pointlessly about the inequity of the electoral college.
“The Minutes” (you’ll note that I am staying clear of precisely how nothing is as it seems and why some minutes appear to have gone missing, so as not to blow your real-time, heart-in-the-mouth experience) feels very much like an apocalyptic response to the arrival of the zero-sum game that is the America of President Donald J. Trump.
But it’s also a continuation of a theme explicated extensively by Letts in his masterful, Pulitzer Prize-winning drama “August: Osage County,” the notion that Americans of European heritage are occupiers of land that is not, cannot ever be, should not ever be, their own. Sure, there’s a tear-jerking small-town mythology — everything from Winesburg, Ohio, to Thornton Wilder to Mayberry — but these stories of comfort and mutual compassion are globbed onto much older and far more authentic narratives of barbaric violence and theft. In a repudiation of responsibility for the acts of previous generations, we white people have just buried them in the ground, as we do with a parent or, heaven help us, a child.
Yet without the reconciliation of these competing stories, no authentic small-town ethos ever can emerge. And thus ever-nervous small-town America is condemned to be pulled by the hand by demagogues who appeal to its baser interests.
Those, I think, are the main points that Letts is trying to make with “The Minutes.” The last two Letts plays — “Mary Page Marlowe” and “Linda Vista” — have been focused on gender and individuation, personal stories of both strife and self-actualization, you might call ’em. But “The Minutes,” which is expected to move to Broadway this spring, is Letts’ first clear return to “August” territory. “August” is a play that asks a family what kind of family it considers itself to be. “The Minutes” asks the same question of a town. And of a country.
I’d argue “The Minutes” needs more work. The primal conclusion that awaits depends for its impact on the utter, quotidian veracity of all that is gone before. It’s complicated because Letts also wants to have fun. And so he does, telegraphing his intent with clever ticket names, and creating characters like Mr. Oldfield (Francis Guinan) who bathes his colleague Ms. Innes (Penny Slusher) in spittle as he hacks on about nothing in particular. Then there’s the unctuous Mr. Breeding (Kevin Anderson); the modestly corrupt Mr. Assalone (Jeff Still); the dotty Ms. Matz (Sally Murphy) and the over-anxious Mr. Hanratty (Danny McCarthy). On occasion, Shapiro leans too readily into the satire without the necessary counterbalance of credibility. That needs recalibrating, without losing the laughter of complicity.
More complex is the question of what Letts want to do with the lone African-American character, Mr. Blake (James Vincent Meredith). Race is very much an issue in this play, yet Mr. Blake is underwritten. Chronically so, in my view. Cliff Chamberlain’s Mr. Peel, the whistle-blower here, also needs to be sharpened in contrast, so that his tenacity feels more organic. But the mayor and the clerk (the latter is superbly played by a cold-eyed Brittany Burch) are where the tone rings with tension and truth. Petersen is the very model of procedural terror, especially when he encounters Ian Barford’s determined Mr. Carp.
“The Minutes,” staged on a setting from David Zinn that deftly captures the tension of patriotic grandiosity and provincial defensiveness found in city halls across the land, will not be a play you forget quickly. It is a typically robust response to the moment from Letts, offering not just a repudiation but an opportunity.
Chris Jones is a Tribune critic.
cjones5@chicagotribune.com
Review: “The Minutes” (3.5 stars)
When: Through Jan. 7
Where: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St.
Running time: 90 minutes
Tickets: $20-$105 at 312-335-1650 or www.steppenwolf.org
BWW Review: THE MINUTES at Steppenwolf Theatre Company by Rachel Weinberg
Tracy Letts’ world premiere THE MINUTES, now making its debut at Steppenwolf Theatre Company, unfolds in an unsuspecting manner. Both because the play has a smart structure that shifts over the course of the 100-minute runtime and also because the content left me contemplative for days after seeing it. Here Letts uses the framework of a small town’s council meeting as a microcosm of a larger discussion on the current political climate (though this play is not overtly about Trump’s presidency) and the desire to cling to certain ideologies in the name of order and group preservation, though those long-held beliefs may not be true. To borrow from Stephen Colbert, Letts has written a play that compellingly examines the appeal of “truthiness” in this contentious political environment.
The play begins with what appears to be a routine meeting for the council members of Big Cherry, helmed by the town’s long-time Mayor Superba (expertly performed by William Petersen with the right balance of command and slightly forced warmth). The longest-standing council member Mr. Oldfield (a superb and perfectly cast turn by Fran Guinan) remarks about a recently vacated parking spot in the town and inquires as to whether he might have it, while Ms. Innes (Penny Slusher) wants to read a lengthy written statement to the council. Letts delightfully demonstrates the inefficacy of small town government with these moments to supremely humorous effect.
But the meeting takes a turn when the newest council member Mr. Peel (Cliff Chamberlain) raises a question. Mr. Peel missed the last meeting for his mother’s funeral, and he wonders why council member Mr. Karp (played in flashback by Ian Barford) is no longer present. He becomes further perplexed by the missing minutes from last week’s meeting (from which the play derives its title) that might elucidate precisely what is happening with the council. This mystery provides a sense of intrigue and tension in a play that initially seems like it might not have much of either, but Letts smartly uses this device to transition to THE MINUTES’ deeper truths and themes.
As the meeting progresses, we see just how strongly the council members of Big Cherry hold to their existing beliefs and legends about their town. When Mr. Peel reveals that he does not know the story behind the central statue that resides in the town’s main fountain, the council members quickly launch into a rehearsed and precisely orchestrated reenactment. Keen audience members will notice, however, that all is not right with this reenactment as one male council member repeatedly grabs the behind of a female council member. In this way, Letts subtly references the inappropriate under-the-radar behavior that defines so much of modern politics. The precise movements of this reenactment (choreography by Dexter Bullard) demonstrate how beloved the council members find this story and how eager they are to impart the details onto the newest member.
Under the helm of Artistic Director Anna D. Shapiro, THE MINUTES is one of the finest exercises in ensemble acting that I have ever seen, and all involved are superbly cast. As mentioned, Petersen hits all the right notes as Mayor Superba. Chamberlain finds a great balance between earnestness and curiosity as Mr. Peel. Sally Murphy’s impeccable timing and humorous delivery highlight all the eccentries of her character Mrs. Matz. Kevin Anderson is rightfully unsettling as Mr. Breeding, a council member who is disgustingly ignorant and far from politically correct. As Mr. Assalone, Jeff Still gives a performance torn between determination (as he consistently reminds the council clerk how to pronounce his name correctly) and general disengagement when it comes to the actual issues at hand. As Mr. Blake, James Vincent Meredith gives a solid and entertaining performance that I have come to expect from him, making the most of a character that Letts could yet further develop. As the council clerk Ms. Carp, Brittany Burch is undeniably excellent and helps raise the stakes and tension in THE MINUTES with her character’s surprising revelations. Overall there is not a weak link in this cast, and they all work together so collaboratively and each find moments to take the spotlight.
While I cannot share the final moments of THE MINUTES, suffice to say that the last scene capitalizes on Letts’s exploration of the Darwinian instincts that can often drive politics. Letts articulates this struggle powerfully in THE MINUTES and allows us to contemplate that pivotal question of whether it is more important to go along with the group to achieve success or if it is better to stick to our morals, even when they fly in the face of what others think and may lead to our destruction. THE MINUTES brilliantly explores this dichotomy and leaves audiences with much to contemplate.
Politics is far more than local in Tracy Letts’ ‘Minutes’ by Hedy Weiss, Sun Times
With his astonishing new play, “The Minutes,” a pitch black comedy about the current state of American politics and the “fake news” elements in our national history, Tracy Letts has written the 21st century equivalent of “The Rite of Spring.” He has devised a blood ritual rooted in the more farcical manifestations of local government and parliamentary procedure, and along the way he has explained how some in this country have been brutally sacrificed, and why such sacrifices continue to be sanctioned.
If you are looking for the combination of warm embrace and savvy satirical bite that, for example, characterizes Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical “Hamilton,” be advised: That is not in Letts’ temperament. But if you have observed the workings of Chicago’s City Council (or, for that matter, your condo board) over the decades, it is a good bet you will recognize the play’s lunatic version of democracy at work, and then be confronted by something far more pernicious than garden variety graft, corruption, chicanery and the pursuit of trivial personal agendas.
Set in the city council meeting room of the fictional mid-size city of Big Cherry (David Zinn’s weighty pomp-and-circumstance set evokes the patriotic grandeur found in many such places, with Peoria serving as a model), “The Minutes” convenes an eccentric group of characters with Dickensian names, beginning with Mayor Superba (William Petersen in a rare return to the Steppenwolf stage).
Petersen is joined by a Broadway-ready cast of council members including Francis Guinan (as Mr. Oldfield, the doddering veteran of the group, whose obsession is an undesignated parking spot); Danny McCarthy (as Mr. Hanratty, the man with a grand plan for an expensive but accessible city-center fountain retrofitted for the handicapped); Penny Slusher (as Ms. Innes, who makes a passionate proclamation regarding the preservation of the annual Big Cherry Heritage Festival); Jeff Still (as Mr. Assalone, the kingpin in a lucrative bicycle scam); Kevin Anderson (as Mr. Breeding, a self-satisfied defender of the status quo); James Vincent Meredith (as Mr. Blake, the man who votes according to how the wind is blowing); and most crucially of all, Cliff Chamberlain (as Mr. Peel, the newcomer to the council, and a seeker of transparency, up to a point). Also of vital importance is Brittany Burch (as Ms. Johnson, the discreet and meticulous city clerk privy to important information).
Notably missing from the council meeting upon Mr. Peel’s return to work following the death of his mother is Mr. Carp (Ian Barford as the genuine truth-seeker who pays a price for his revelations). Also missing are the minutes from the previous week’s meeting which might hold the clue to why Carp is no longer among them. Suffice it to say that it has everything to do with Carp setting the record straight about the true history of Big Cherry and how its mythic self-invention spins around a “foundational myth” involving the triumph of local farmers and soldiers over marauding Sioux Indians. It is a story “re-enacted” with hilarious verve. And, as if written in the heat of the recent uproar about public statues, a monumental bronze horse and rider play a supporting role here, too.
The ludicrous banter that consumes most of the council meeting cannily suggests how major issues (including the city’s problematic electrical grid that triggers occasional power surges during the proceedings) are lost in the shuffle. But Letts saves his real outrage for last, and its details should not be disclosed here. Suffice it to say that director Anna D. Shapiro, who has expertly orchestrated the entire production, has choreographed a bloody ritual scene that might give Nijinsky a run for his money. And Petersen delivers Letts’ tirade on how we refuse to confront “the lies of history” because doing so would uproot our comfortable existence. The message is not original. But you need look no further than the recent case of the Dakota pipeline controversy to know how the self-interest of the powerful trumps all. Or simply consult “The Minutes.”
