Speed the Plow

In the single Meisner-technique acting class I ever took, I learned the "Repetition Exercise." In it, two actors face each other and repeat a phrase back and forth, with its meaning, tone, volume and intensity changing as the practice progresses. It's bizarre. But it can also be helpful, stripping away layers that build upon language to reveal the subtext beneath banal exchanges. By the end of the session, repeating "It's nice out today" with my partner offering"I don't think so" in response, I was laughing hysterically. Basically, it can make you feel manic and on hyper-speed, or like you're clawing your way through salt water.

Watching the fantastic-with-a-frantic-underbelly revival of David Mamet's Speed the Plow at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, I wondered if the cast had tried this exercise, too: Their coke-paced, subtext-heavy take on the play took keen cues from this type of work out. Mamet's nasty but insightful piece takes on Hollywood (or perhaps American in general), the morals (or lack there of) respected as law and the relationship between sex and power, not to mention the souls caught in between. In signature Mamet fashion, his foul-mouthed wit and steely view of humanity strike a disturbing chord through ping-pong-rhythm dialogue and complicated character portraits.

The audience meets Bobby Gould (aptly-cast Jeremy Piven) in his office at a 1980s studio in Hollywood the morning after he's been promoted to head of production. Just in time to take advantage of Gould's new power, his trusty toadie Charlie Fox (the always-masterful Raul Esparza) finally has a bone Gould wants: a script linked with a famous, unattainable actor. The two jockey for respect, validation and triumph while Fox hopes to finally get payback for years of ass-kissing. That is until pert temp Karen (quirky Elisabeth Moss) struts in with innocence and optimism. Through an evening "meeting," she sways Gould away from the profitable but horrendous script toward what she deems a lofty one, though it's unappealing in doomsday prediction. Gould gets caught between a richer self and a better self and tries to grasp at ethics in a world where that terrain is slippery. The final scene finds him struggling between the two, with Karen on one shoulder, Fox on the other and Fox's maneuverings serving as the tie-breaker.

Dealing with this intensity is an exhausting task for the three handlers as they zip their way through mountains of emotion and tongue-twisting speeches. Fortunately, they tackle the challenge well, even though it takes a bit of time for their momentum to hit top speed. Piven's role is a close approximation to his TV character: As Ari Gold in "Entourage" on HBO, he treads the same line between charming and slimy that he perfects on stage. Although the cocky nuances, wide gait and questionable grin pretty much mimic Piven's choices on the small screen, considering the similarities of the characters I don't fault him for aligning the two versions. If Gould and Gold aren't twins, they're at least brothers.

Elisabeth Moss' squeaky-voiced, hopeful Karen is a quality riff on the secretary. Mamet's been known to write less-than-layered ladies, and Moss does a fine job of coloring what could turn into a carbon-copy ditz. Although her plea to Gould teeters on cloying, her earnest attempt to do good is indeed intoxicating. When her motives are questioned in the end, Moss' portrayal of an unwavering stance digs into the generalizations that are tossed about concerning sex, money, power and the interplay between them.

But most impressive (as is usually the case when he's in the cast) is Esparza's sly Fox. Although he has plenty of pandering compliments for Gould, Esparza plays the producer with an enraged bubbling that lies just beneath a cool, stiff exterior. Embodying a character that's used to being screwed in the end, his depraved desperation is palpable but contained—at least for most of the play. Tip toeing between the extremes of blissful and enraged, Esparza shows us what happens when a man is faced with his very last chance at success. No prisoners. And somehow, he finds that nugget of likability and understanding, even in a shark out for blood.

Neil Pepe's direction uses all three actors to their best advantage and keeps the pace tight and the characters physically close--a true powder keg, where a secretary holds a match.

In the last scene Mamet dismembers the concepts of right and wrong until you feel silly to have ever had hope or good faith. But, he, the cast and Pepe also do well in also leaving a fair amount of uncertainty. And this is what I find most impressive: Even while snarkiness and cold opportunism seem to have won the day, the possibility of a better choice still stands—even if it didn't win this time.

Speed the Plow
Rating: Excellent