The difficulty of being an exceptional playwright is that audiences, filing into your latest work, might well arrive with unreasonably lofty expectations that can be treacherous to fulfill. Once again, though, Samuel D. Hunter manages to intrigue and involve us with Grangeville, culminating in an epiphany for his characters and his audience, too. As with his recent A Case for the Existence of God, Grangeville—the play, the production and the performances—is a work of art and anguish and wonder.
Hunter, whose work includes The Whale, Lewiston/Clarkson, A Bright New Boise, and Greater Clements, once more returns to his roots in blue-collar Idaho. (Grangeville is on Route 95, north of Boise, east of Lewiston and Clarkson.) Arnold—the protagonist—has escaped from the white-trash trailer in which he was raised to the world of modern art in Rotterdam. But you can’t escape your dirt-poor Idaho roots, not in a Hunter play; they reach out, ’cross land and sea, like unremitting tentacles. Even if you’re a famous painter—or, for that matter, an award-winning playwright complete with a MacArthur Foundation “genius” fellowship.
Grangeville centers on the 40-something Arnold and his 10-year-older half-brother, Jerry. Long estranged—and for good reason—they are brought together, via cellphone, by unpaid medical bills as their mother lay dying. Or should we say their monstrous mother? Arnold is all but beset by monsters; this is a tale of family, abuse, and memory. All that plus the act of forgiveness when forgiveness is not quite possible. Add into the mix Giacometti (the sculptor) and Uno (the card game); as always, Hunter serves up unexpected but relevantly realistic humor as one of his writerly tools. The characters and plot, and the manner in which the author gradually unravels their past and present, are engrossing enough that I don’t care to spoil them for potential playgoers.
[Read Michael Sommers’ ★★★★☆ review here.]
Hunter is one of those rare dramatists who doesn’t care to tell us—to explicitly spell out for us, his audience—what we need to know. Rather, he works his way around the information, planting seeds, hints and mistruths, just like real people do, until we discern what is real. Or what it is the characters, at least, believe is real. Other playwrights aim to do this, yes, but too frequently in a manner in we see the strings being pulled and walk away with a sense of authorial manipulation. As, indeed, this viewer felt at another important new American play earlier this month. Hunter, though, doesn’t care to plant false leads. His characters will speak untruthfully or deceptively to each other, as in real life; but the playwright is always straightforward. Nothing is said or transpires in Grangeville which isn’t fully supported in words or emotions.
The Signature Theatre production is marked by excellence in all areas, as was their 2022 production of A Case for the Existence of God. Arnold is firmly in control of the play, the situation, and his emotions; until, suddenly, he isn’t. Actor Brian J. Smith—who might be remembered for his Tony-nominated role of the Gentleman Caller in the Cherry Jones/Celia Keenan-Bolger production of The Glass Menagerie—offers a wonderfully shaded performance. Jerry, meanwhile, calls for a wide range of character-shading. Paul Sparks is so true in the initial scenes—during which the author seems to have painted an intentionally stereotyped picture—that his performance becomes almost startingly impressive as the 90-minute play progresses.
Hunter’s text has been given a mesmerizing production by Jack Serio (who also directed last season’s acclaimed Flatiron loft staging of Uncle Vanya). Serio’s Grangeville starts in the dark, literally so, disorienting the audience—accustomed to having scenery and costumes spell out where they are and what is transpiring—and virtually forcing them to zero in on the words. Serio and lighting designer Stacey Derosier use shade and light as dramatic devices; that midnight opening is followed by a scene featuring two triangular shards of light which never intersect. Light plays a critical role throughout, including a scene in which Derosier creates shadows which seem to attack and crush Aaron. (I found this reminiscent of the pools of India ink in James Thurber’s drawings for “The Night the Bed Fell,” but I suppose that’s just me.) Those typically remarkable set designers who work under the name “dots” here provide an enigmatic, charcoal-black background which magnifies the dark, cold tone of the play—until it doesn’t. Serio, too, finds ways to unexpectedly jolt us.
All of this, of course, emanates from the writer.
Entering the final scene, I chanced to look around me. Everyone, row after row, not just carefully listening but leaning forward, intently watching and waiting. Relatively few playgoers will get to see this premiere production of Hunter’s Grangeville; the run is a mere seven weeks, in a 200-seat theater. If you’re in town prior to March 23, you might care to act accordingly.
Grangeville opened February 24, 2025, at Signature Center and runs through March 23. Tickets and information: signaturetheatre.org
