Feb. 10--It was with sadness that I climbed the stairs one last time for the final show by Mary-Arrchie Theatre Co., which is closing up shop next month after 30 years as an offbeat but integral part of Chicago's off-Loop theater scene.
Mary-Arrchie has never been flush with money, and when word came that its grungy Angel Island theater space would be no more, soon to be redeveloped into condos or what have you, founder Richard Cotovsky took the news as an natural end point for the company.
But before the gang packs it in, Cotovsky is giving one final performance under the Mary-Arrchie banner in a show that captures the essence of the work his company has done since 1986. A David Mamet play feels right in the circumstance, and not just any Mamet play but the 1975 work that brought him his first real taste of professional acclaim. It is, importantly, a play that revels in a story of Chicago outsiders, scraping by on the fringe, caught up in their petty schemes and grievances.
Don's junk shop is where the action takes place, and designer John Holt has filled the space with all manner of bric-a-brac: an old stoplight, a bird cage, yards and yards of extension cords, battered tennis rackets, dusty throw pillows, deer heads, an ancient TV, pots and pans, a toaster and the bottom half of a mannequin. This is where dreams go to stew and bluster before being shoved aside by yet more dreams that will never come to be.
Inhabiting these pleasantly grimy environs is Don himself (Cotovsky, stepping into the same role he played 10 years ago in a production at the Raven Theatre), who is the closest thing to an adult figure around these parts. He functions as a stand-in father to an itchy young junkie named Bobby (Rudy Galvan), who is as dense as the air in that resale shop.
And then of course there's Teach, the play's center of gravity and a galoot extraordinaire who horns in on Don and Bobby's plan to do a little breaking-and-entering. That's it, that's the story, but oh, the baroque machinations that transpire in the plotting and plotzing!
Here's a typical bon mot from Teach, a man steeped in self-delusions and stale sweat: "She is not good card player," he says of his poker opponent the night before. "She is a mooch and she is a locksmith and she plays like a woman!" Or just watch as Don and Teach lay in on Bobby about the importance of a good breakfast like a couple of fussing Jewish mothers: "You gotta eat!"
Teach is pathetic and operatic all at once, and in the hands of actor Stephen Walker, he is a sleaze with hair greased back and a gold chain around his neck, completing a look of bravado that is meant to distract you from the bits of vulnerability that seep out when push comes to shove. He is forever indignant, and forever alone.
Cotovsky's role is less flashy. And though it doesn't quite feel lived-in, it works like gangbusters when Cotovsky is merely silent and observing, his facial expressions all but obscured underneath that beard of his so that the performance is coming strictly from his eyes. Watchful, wary and ready to call bull when the moment warrants
Not a bad metaphor for a guy saying goodbye to one of Chicago's more storied theaters of the last three decades.
Review: 'American Buffalo'
3 STARS
Through March 6 at Angel Island, 735 W. Sheridan Road; tickets are $30 at 773-871-0442 or maryarrchie.com
