'Old Glory' at Writers' Theatre: In son's death, some cold truths

By Chris Jones | Tribune critic

February 14, 2009

"Old Glory," the haunting, intimate and intensely moving new play from playwright Brett Neveu, is the third in a trilogy of dramas about the impact of war, especially the war in Iraq, on those left at home. All have premiered over the last couple of years at theaters in and around Chicago, a city that has been bound and determined to support one of its most promising and distinctive young writers.

With "Old Glory," a collective artistic investment in human capital pays off.

This is far and way Neveu's best script to date. (It slightly recalls "Four Murders," another Neveu piece I greatly admired). And in William Brown and this top-drawer Writers' Theatre cast, Neveu finally has found a director who knows how to deal with his unusually cryptic and elliptical dramatic universe.

Neveu doesn't so much write plot-driven dramas as hang human beings out to dry, letting their vulnerabilities twist quietly in the wind. At many of his previous premieres, one found oneself slipping in and out of the play, believing and then not believing. Not this time.

Thanks in no small measure to the caliber of his actors, but also due to the potency of the theme and richness of the writing, everything Brown puts on the intimate, understated Writers' stage feels wholly and indisputably true.

Some will argue that Neveu still doesn't do—or specify, or explain, or dramatically complicate—enough. I can't feel that way. With this play, this level of truth is more than enough. Neveu sinks a deep emotional well here. I can't get the script out of my mind.

It should be evident by now that this is not an escapist night in theater. Fundamentally, this is a play, a mostly non-ideological play, about losing your child. And there are no cheap, hopeful bromides dispensed with the sparse pain. But the toughness of the topic should not deter you. This is a dignified, thoughtful play with a rich vein of empathy.

Neveu interweaves three interconnected scenarios:

Two soldiers in Iraq (played, compassionately, by Steve Haggard and Marcus Truschinski), horrified by the violence and high on booze, let rough-housing with a friend go wrong.

In a bar in Berlin, one of those soldiers' fathers confronts the boy's commanding officer, a weary veteran of global combat, over why he didn't save his son from an accidental shooting. It's these uncompromising scenes—played between Tom McElroy and Philip Earl Johnson—that root the show. These two fine actors somehow make you feel both the pain and anger of the bereaved, and the numbing sadness of being in a place of responsibility for bad things happening to young people.

I kept thinking about the fine young man who died the other day in an Evanston middle school. I thought about his family. And I thought about those who were at work that day. In this searing fictional encounter, you can see all of them.

Neveu's third scene takes place between the soldier's mother (Penny Slusher) and a friend of her dead son's (deftly underplayed by LaShawn Banks). It is an exchange that captures one of the more challenging aspects of serious personal loss—the resentment of those whose life, whose job, whose spirit, has not been attacked.

cjones5@tribune.com

When: Through March 29

Where: Writers' Theatre,

325 Tudor Court, Glencoe

Running time: 1 hour,

30 minutes

Tickets: $40-65 at 847-242-6000 and writerstheatre.org