It's David Mamet, so we expect bad language. It's David Mamet, and the cast includes a woman, which predicts that the woman is going to throw a monkey wrench into the works, as she does in "Oleanna" and "Speed-the-Plow." It's David Mamet, which means we're in for an Indianapolis-type pace, sudden moves and some very tight turns.
Mamet's "Race," which opened last night at the Rep's Main Stage to run through March 4, raises questions, as his plays always do. Some are important and thought-provoking, even necessary in today's world, some are there just to cause some mental or emotional disturbance to the audience, as his plays always do. It seems to be a point of pride for him.
Mamet is a fine playwright, but he does often acts in a rather peculiar manner. For example, he recently moved politically from the Left to the Right and announced it. Who cares what his political feelings are; you're a playwright. Write us some good plays. With an interesting, thought-provoking play like "Race," which brought more black audience members than Rep opening nights usually do, Mamet has issued an edict that there cannot be post-performance discussions about the play. No reason has been given. I think that's dumb.
And a personal note: Sometime in the mid-to-late1970s, he wrote a play called "Lone Canoe," with its world premiere scheduled as the high point of the American Theater Critics Assn. annual conference in his home town of Chicago. After reading us a lengthy diatribe at a conference session, he told us it was off the record, a demand that most of us ignored. His play, poorly plotted and poorly written, sank like a stone in Lake Michigan. He rewrote much of it, retitled it "Lakeboat." It sank even more rapidly.
"Race," deals with a wealthy, powerful white man, Charles Strickland (a solid Mark Elliot Wilson), accused of rape by a young black woman. After dropping (or being dropped) by one law firm, he shows up in the office of another, a partnership between Jack Lawson, a white lawyer (a fierce, voluble, excitable, powerful Jeff Talbott) and Henry Brown, a black one (a wonderful balance by Morocco Omari, less mercurial but equally strong). They also have a young black woman lawyer (impressive Zoey Martinson), who's utilized as sort of a secretary and clerk who gets the coffee. Mamet shows immediately her lesser importance. He does not even give her a last name. Talbott's comes across like a machine gun; Omari is not noticeably louder, but his statements echo.
Strickland claims innocence, of course. Lawson persuades Omari that they should take the case, which has the opportunity to give them a larger presence. Besides, Strickland can afford a very hefty fee. But they founder on the topic of race, which leads into even deeper discussions of human behavior. Discussing race is not easy, even when people of various types, styles, colors — what have you — are educated, "modern" people. Old feelings die hard, and they're not dead yet. Mamet does not have the answers either, and a couple of odd plot twists weaken it a little.
Director Timothy Near has this racing team roaring at almost a fever pitch, the hot dialogue perfectly chilled by the ice cube tray cool of John Ezell's set, all glass partitions and modern furniture, lighted brightly enough by Brian Sidney Bembridge to permit surgery on the conference table. Myrna Colley-Lee's costume design is just right for the members of a white-shoe law firm.
Race, a production of the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis, opened last night at the Loretto-Hilton Center, to run through March 4
— Joe