Company: Steppenwolf Theatre Company
Venue: Steppenwolf Main Stage
I have recently seen the play “Hir” by Taylor Mac twice: just this past weekend at Steppenwolf, and previously at a small storefront-sized theatre in Des Moines, Iowa. Before I review Steppenwolf’s production of the show, I have a couple of declarations to make that should clarify the following review.
First, I contend the profundity of a profound work can suffer upon a second viewing because the significant effects of a first impression cannot be duplicated. Additionally, the first viewing cannot help but inform the evaluation of the second. So, the fact that I saw StageWest’s production prior to Steppenwolf’s does affect how I perceive the latter’s work.
My second point, before I sally forth into the depths of this review, is that I truly believe that “Hir” by Taylor Mac is one of the most brilliantly penned pieces of dramatic literature in recent times; its complexity and nuance, structure and pacing—everything about it makes it one of the more perfect plays of the last half century.
When I first saw the play two months ago, it was a deeply disturbing, highly impactful, engaging and meaningful piece of work. The title of the play leads toward thinking that this is a play about gender identity. And it is, to some degree, but truly at its heart, this is a play about a family unit who are all survivors of an abusive relationship. The plot really revolves around how each of the three former victims relate to each other and their former abuser. It is true that one character, Max (Em Grosland), is transitioning from female to male, and that the gender pronoun that character has chosen for hirself is “hir”. But, that isn’t what drives the plot forward. And, in the act of making Max’s gender a topic of discussion, rather than the actual conflict of the show, Taylor Mac (whose own chosen pronoun is “judy”) has reached towards brilliance and genius. If the intent is to become a society where all genders along the overall spectrum are seen as equal, then the characters that represent trans and non-binary people must be able to be perceived as just as normal as everyone else. Because the conflict of the play revolves around something else, Max’s discussions with hir mother and hir brother are effective conversations that flesh out the characters. We as audience members are able to listen and comprehend better the points being made because we are not taking sides in these chats. They aren’t a point of conflict. They are informative and mostly civil explanations.
This is a dark, dark comedy about a woman attempting to free herself from the physically and psychologically abusive relationship with her husband, Arnold (Francis Guinan). Paige (the woman, played by Amy Morton) has taken advantage of her husband’s stroke a year prior to the play’s beginning to medicate him heavily and alter everything about the life of the family; where once there was order there is now chaos, where once there was unrestrained masculinity there is now strictly controlled femininity.
Under the direction of Hallie Gordon, this production seems to have been treated more as a light comedy about a dark topic than a dark comedy that plumbs the nadir of human cruelty (how I perceive the intention of the script itself). The staging seems to have been perfectly gauged to keep Steppenwolf’s specific audience laughing all the way through to the end. Morton’s Paige is never fully realized as the revenge-seeking former beta dog who has now taken control and is doling out punishment to those who’ve done her wrong. In this production she is more a still-afraid, still-abused woman who is lashing out. This distinction in how Paige is played (I assume there are a number of other ways she can be approached as well) alters just about everything in the play. And it is indicative of how the directorial choices were made so as to keep this play from going to the darker places that the script fully supports.
The concept of Chekhov’s Gun comes into play here. The script contains a number of moments that work as necessary foreshadowing. The concept of Chekhov’s gun is that if you show a gun on stage early in the play, it must be used/shot off by the end. While viewing this production, I was led to ask myself, what happens if the gun never gets set on the stage when it is supposed to be there? There is a sequence early on that hints at Paige’s capacity for cruelty: she discovers that the sound of her blender triggers her son (Ty Olwin) Isaac’s PTSD. She then proceeds to torture him with short burst of the blender’s whirring which causes him to repeatedly toss his cookies in the sink. Morton’s portrayal hovers around a point of curious exploration of the situation, rather than the necessary schaudenfruede that indicates where the character is ultimately headed.
Another example is smaller, but indicative of the missed opportunities in this production: Periodically, Paige sprays Arnold with a water bottle as punishment for bad behavior. If you think that sounds like disciplining a cat, you’ve got the idea. One of the first times she does so, she tells him to stop touching his penis. Unfortunately, one doesn’t notice that he’d been touching his penis prior to that moment. However, in the script Paige tells Arnold to “grab the knob”. Had he followed the euphemistic instructions on that line, it would have set up the pattern of behavior a few lines later. Instead, the moment is missed and the humor of a later line (“My penis is my best friend”) loses the momentum of the effective set-up provided by the playwright.
Gordon’s direction often leads to awkward stage pictures, clunky movement, and a lot of cheating-out akin to what one instructs beginning actors to do when on a proscenium stage. There is one time that this is used to comedic effect: Arnold sneaks across the stage in full view of everyone, mugging to the audience the entire way. And with that one interlude the legitimacy of the play’s world is shot to Hell. Is it funny? Sure. Does it suddenly take a big budget play and put it on the level of community theatre? You bet. It’s unfortunate, and it adds nothing to the play itself.
There are a huge number of small issues throughout the production that make me wonder if a work of this magnitude was just slightly out of Gordon’s scope. And, I hate feeling that way. I wanted everyone in that audience to walk away as disturbed and altered as I was when I first saw the play. I wanted people to be afraid to laugh during the descent into the horrible aspects of the second act. That wasn’t present in this production. The play still stands up. The play itself is still brilliant. It just isn’t as good as it could be. I wasn’t enrapt. That’s partly because I had seen it before. But then again, I’ve seen “Hamlet” innumerable times, and when well done it is as brilliant as the first time, if not better.
With this production I found myself wondering: Why didn’t Isaac carry himself like a Marine? Why didn’t Isaac’s duffle bag have any weight to it? Was it filled with blocks of Styrofoam? Why were the parents of a 21 year-old and a 16 year-old cast with actors who are significantly older? Exactly how did Arnold punch holes in the wall well above his own shoulder/head height? Why wasn’t the house truly a garbage house, rather than an orderly version of untidy? Why wasn’t the ugliness of every character explored more fully? With a work such as this play, I should not have been so easily and constantly distracted.
Any audience that leaves a production of “Hir” ought to be exhausted and spent. It shouldn’t be possible for them to bounce up into a standing ovation and then laugh their way out the door. It’s still worth seeing. It’s still a good play. Yet, so much potential…
TEN WORD SUMMARY: One of my favorite plays. I wish it were better.
RATING: d12 – “Heckuva Good Show”