Most of the characters in Buried Child do not exist.
Not just because the players in Sam Shepard’s 1960s-set American drama are fictional, but because nearly every character, at some point, has the desperate need to assert that their existence is factual and their perspective true. By the time the play ends, one wonders how much the characters within the fiction substantively believe in their own existence.
Originally staged in 1978, this pillar of American theater comes to central Iowa courtesy of the Iowa Stage Theatre Company. Having opened on Oct. 17, this production has six more performances in Des Moines’ Stoner Theater, Oct. 22-27.
The play opens with Dodge (Richard Maynard) sitting on his couch, erupting into coughing fits while his wife, Halie (Kim Grimaldi), shouts down at him from the second floor. She goes on so long with such scant response from him, one wonders if Dodge died, how long it might take her to notice.
As their dialogue winds on, it’s clear that the marriage is strained, though so enduring that they seem to find comfort in their strife, in the things they don’t talk about. It similarly becomes apparent that, despite the age of the couple, they are effectively the sole support for their adult sons: Tilden (Carl Lindberg), who Dodge doesn’t realize has been living in the house, and Bradley (Mason Ferguson), who goes most of the first act only being offhandedly acknowledged, more poltergeist than person.
When Tilden’s supposed son, Vince (Charlie Hubbard), enters with his girlfriend, Shelly (Sabrina Fullhart), strained relationships intensify as it becomes apparent that no one really remembers him.
As with so many of the classics of American theater, the actors have a tricky needle to thread. They must deliver and appropriately react to page-long monologues, and imbue their characters with the right humors to make some of their sharper character turns (Vince’s in particular) feel entirely natural.
The cast does a solid job across the board, with Maynard deserving special commendations for holding the center of the show through most of its runtime.
Also, director Sean Canuso isn’t afraid of long silences. He recognizes the script has built tension to keep us engaged and that the actors are skilled enough to keep us hooked, even as they husk corn or methodically plug in an electric razor.
The production sticks the landing, evoking the themes of masculinity, inheritance, American exceptionalism, self-destruction, manifest destiny, repression and more that would require dozens of pages to aptly dissect.
There is some comedy here, particularly in the first half, but those walking in unfamiliar with the work should expect something in the same vein as Death of a Salesman or Desire Under the Elms.
It’s been a number of years since I’ve read a script for a play, but this show left me with a desire to dive into the works of Sam Shepard to unearth what might be buried there.
Isaac Hamlet has, at various points, been an arts and entertainment reporter and editor based in Iowa City and Des Moines. He also writes fantasy books under the pseudonym R.E. Bellesmith.
