Feb. 21--You could say that Sarah Gubbins' "Cocked" feels especially timely in the wake of the spree shootings in Kalamazoo, Mich., this weekend. But sadly, those events happen so often now that we lose count, just as we do with those gunned down daily on the streets of Chicago in lower-profile tragedies.
But the funny thing about Gubbins' often quite-funny play -- now in a world premiere at Victory Gardens Theater -- is that, despite the suggestive title, it's not really about gun culture as much as it is about good old American family dysfunction and failure to communicate. Gubbins wraps it up in a sometimes-unwieldy but highly watchable package, woven through with concise dialogue and escalating unease served well by both Joanie Schultz's muscular staging and a trio of tough and unstinting performances.
The family in question is Andersonville-dwelling Taylor (Kelli Simpkins), a white attorney, and her girlfriend, Izzie (Patrese D. McClain), an African-American journalist worn out from reporting on prayer vigils for dead kids in Chiraq. The play starts with Taylor's younger brother, Frank (Mike Tepeli), letting himself in to Taylor and Izzie's "Pottery Barn vantage point" (a perfect capsule description of Chelsea M. Warren's bursting-with-verisimilitude set) with a key left under the doormat.
Frank has just left their ailing mother in Iowa City and lost yet another job for taking five-fingered discounts from his boss. Taylor doesn't want him there, and with good reason. Frank is the family member we all dread appearing on our doorstep. The one who is always short of cash, victimized by other people's bad treatment rather than his own bad judgment, filled with stories about all the great things he could do to help out around the place if you just let him crash for a few days. And hey -- wouldn't that television look better on that wall? (You can guess what happens to the television in question.)
Izzie actually takes to him a bit better than Taylor does, despite Frank's clumsy questions about whether there are "crackheads" in Izzie's family. And it helps that Frank takes Izzie's frustrations about their downstairs neighbor seriously, while Taylor downplays them. ("I don't care if you give a (expletive)," Izzie says to Taylor at one point. "I just need you to do a better job of pretending that you do.") Izzie is freaked out enough that she wants to move, but Taylor, who also has fidelity issues, doesn't see the need.
The neighbor is an ex-Marine with an apparent personality disorder, a tendency to play "Call of Duty" at high volumes and a dog whose constant barking is, as Frank puts it, "like sarin gas, but with sound."
When Frank sells Izzie a handgun without Taylor's knowledge, the situation intensifies. This is where Gubbins' play sometimes falters. The escalation from verbal thrust-and-parry to actual lock-and-load feels like it misses a few steps -- though the tension in Schultz's staging is pretty on-point as the situation spins further out of control.
Both Simpkins and McClain excel at capturing the walking-on-eggshells nature of a live-in relationship that is reaching a breaking point, held together with denial and (mostly) polite evasions that turn into wounding recriminations. Simpkins' cool, contained exterior shows cracks early on, suggesting that being the responsible one in a family she holds at arm's length has taken a psychic toll.
Gubbins rather unsuccessfully works in Izzie's journalism career to draw larger connections to daily gun violence. (Izzie manages to persuade an editor to let her do a six-part series on the background of one shooting victim pretty quickly on the phone.) But McClain does a solid job portraying a warmhearted woman who is always on guard against the racially motivated snap judgments of others. Izzie's anguished comments to Taylor about the latter's naive assumption that a black woman will be treated better by cops on the North Side than the South Side hit hard.
There is a tonal disconnect sometimes in "Cocked." In particular, Frank takes a big action late in the play that feels like a step too far, even for a major screw-up like him. But ultimately, Gubbins crafts a portrait of urban frustrations and family resentment that resonates even as it occasionally strains credulity. The gun doesn't actually cause the problems in their lives. It's just there as a way of dispensing with them -- conveniently close at hand, cocked and ready to go
Kerry Reid is a freelance critic.
ctc-arts@tribpub.com
3 STARS
When: Through March 13
Where: Victory Gardens Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Ave.
Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes
Tickets: $27-$60 at 773-871-3000 or www.victorygardens.org
