CheekyChicago

By now you’ve probably heard a thing or two about Killer Joe.  First there’s the lauded playwright, Steppenwolf ensemble member Tracy Letts, whose family-drama opus August: Osage County earned him a Tony Award and the Pulitzer Prize in 2008.   You may also have been warned that Killer Joe, Letts’ first play, contains bloody violence, disturbing sexual situations, and nudity that goes well beyond any we’re accustomed to seeing on stage, or even in R-rated films for that matter.

But if you’re lucky enough to catch the Killer Joe revival now playing through April 11th at Profiles Theatre, chances are the shock factor and the script’s pedigree will be the last things on your mind.  That’s because, all hype aside, this is simply one of the most captivating productions I’ve seen on stage.  With relentless tension, painfully real performances, and the darkest of humor, the show is must-see for anyone needing a reminder of how powerful theatre can be.  Well, make that “anyone over 18 with a strong threshold for sex, violence, and cigarettes.”  (As a fellow audience member remarked to me at intermission, the theatre’s ability to flout the smoking ordinance shocks more than the flashes of genitalia).

Killer Joe tells the story of a Texas hit job gone horribly awry – at least for the trailer park family who commissions it.  The hired gun, Killer Joe Cooper, doesn’t encounter much trouble at all; he just stream rolls everyone in his path without breaking a sweat.  In the title role, Darrell W. Cox delivers eerie precision reminiscent of Robert Mitchum in Night of the Hunter, mixed with the creepy likability of a good Coen Brothers villain.   The four outcast characters surrounding Killer Joe could so easily become stereotypes, but the cast plays them with such conviction, and so many dimensions, that we’re hooked right in.

Letts fans will recognize recurring themes – the disastrous family dinner, the looming creditors, the seedy underworld.  But perhaps the greatest reminder of Letts’ stamp is his ability to spike dialogue with the most original, unexpected, character-driven vignettes.  In another play, the deadbeat brother under the gun might rant about problems like gambling or drugs; here, he gives a hilarious speech about an ill-fated rabbit farm.  Rick Snyder has timed the production impeccably, allowing the truly disturbing material to sink in but breaking the ice with belly laughs when we need them.

It’s also worth noting that Profiles’ intimate space causes the audience itself to become part of the show.  With the small stage nestled between two opposing sets of bleachers, one can’t help but see the other viewers peripherally while watching the actors.  During the especially disturbing scene that ends Act I, I saw one woman wipe away tears; another smiled in shock, as if wondering how far this would go.  Throughout the performance, I saw a man in his 60s with a permanent grin on his face, delighted by the twisted brilliance of it all.   This is what black-box, storefront theatre’s all about – different kinds of people, packed into a neighborhood space, experiencing something together, up close and personal.

After the show, as we all walked across the stage to the exit (stepping gingerly over the blood and the trash and the chicken legs), I couldn’t help but feel so proud of Chicago’s theatre scene – not only for giving us Tracy Letts, but for continuing to do his work justice on the small stage.