Goodman's 'Iceman' revival succeeds on every level

We hear the patrons of Harry Hope's rundown tavern and single-residency flophouse before we see them.

From the black-as-pitch Goodman Theatre stage comes a chorus of snores and snuffles signaling that some semblance of life yet remains in the broken-down drunkards sleeping off their latest bender in the backroom of what one character calls the "End of the Line Cafe."

That cafe - actually a ramshackle, 1912 New York City gin mill variously referred to as a morgue and graveyard - serves as the setting for Eugene O'Neill's 1939 masterwork "The Iceman Cometh." The play is given a masterful revival by Goodman artistic director Robert Falls, who after 22 years revisits the play he calls one of the greatest in the American repertoire.

As the darkness on the set fades, the whiskey-colored dawn reveals the regulars - scarred souls using spirits to sustain their illusions. They seek salvation from Theodore "Hickey" Hickman (the charismatic Nathan Lane), the garrulous traveling salesman who drops by twice a year to offer them benediction in the form of free drinks and good humor.

The dawning light reveals the lapsed anarchist Larry Slade (Brian Dennehy, who played Hickey in Falls' 1990 revival), witness to this grand, brutal, funny and ever-resonant tale about the comfort our illusions afford us and the impossibility of enduring life without them. Slade is a constant presence, watching as the regulars - all deeply flawed, yet essentially compassionate - shuffle in and out. Feigning disinterest, he observes his comrades from the sidelines condemning the "stupid greed of the human circus," even as he reserves compassion for some of its performers.

The members of this dissolute congregation rouse themselves in time for the arrival of the avuncular Hickey, who enters with a "hello gang," twirling a straw skimmer hat and tossing cash into the air. But the newly sober Hickey is changed. He found peace, he says, by casting off his illusions, and he encourages his friends to do the same.

"Just stop lying about yourself and kidding yourself about tomorrows," he says, insisting the only way to find peace is to give up their pipe dreams of sobering up and living productive lives.

But the resurrection Hickey promises offers no salvation.

If a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, the links in this extraordinary revival are made of titanium. Astutely conceived, meticulously informed and perfectly cast, Falls' "Iceman" triumphs on every level.

Designer Natasha Katz initially bathes O'Neill's outcasts in a dusky glow. By Act 3, she's replaced it with unforgiving, white light. It pours through the saloon's upstage doors, beckoning Hickey's wary converts and then driving them back inside Kevin Depinet's gray, ghostly saloon, whose crowded backroom has the unsettling appearance of an open grave.

Then there's the acting. Led by musical comedy star Lane (who rises to O'Neill's challenge) and Dennehy (the premiere O'Neill interpreter and longtime Falls collaborator), the ensemble boasts some of Chicago's finest actors, along with a few superb imports. Among them is Canada's Stephen Ouimette, a 20-year veteran of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. The pitch-perfect Ouimette gives cast members a run for their money with his complex, memorable performance as the mercurial Harry Hope, whose quick temper is equaled only by his generosity and contrition for the barbs he hurls. If - when? - this production moves to Broadway, Dennehy and Lane will likely set New Yorkers talking. But make no mistake, Ouimette will be a big part of their conversation.

James Harms brings a tatty dignity and understated pathos to the role of the failed war correspondent Jimmy. John Hoogenakker delivers a cringe-inducing turn as the disgraced Harvard-educated lawyer Willie Oban, a bruised and ragged man. A hint of self-loathing underscores John Douglass Thompson's powerful performance as Joe Mott, a down-on-his-luck, African American gambler who perceives the racism beyond his fellow drunks' genial demeanor. Goodman newcomer and New York import Salvatore Inzerillo is terrific as Rocky, a palooka with a mean streak who tends bar and serves as pimp to the self-described tarts Margie (Lee Stark) and Pearl (Tara Sissom). They, along with Kate Arrington who plays the funny, affectionate Cora, are almost too pretty to be prostitutes and definitely too well-dressed. Then again, they are the only ones working.

(Regarding the absence of corrupt cop Pat McGloin, Falls joked that he likes to "slightly desecrate any masterpiece," referencing John Frankheimer who also excised a character from his 1973 film).

Larry Neumann, Jr. (ideal as circus swindler Ed Mosher), Marc Grapey, John Reeger, Lee Wilkof and John Judd also impress. As does the exceptional young actor Patrick Andrews who plays persistent Don Parritt, the troubled young man seeking solace that father-figure Larry Slade refuses to provide. Andrews holds his own opposite the titan, Dennehy, formidable as the onetime radical who's consigned himself to the grandstand. Yet Dennehy's Slade misses nothing. He's a keen, anguished observer of the tragedies that unfold before him. That's evident from Dennehy's fathomless stare, which suggests a man examining his life and finding it wanting.

Then there's Lane, who uses his impeccable timing and keen rhythmic sense to excellent effect. Lane's easy joviality and sincerity blunts Hickey's sharp edges. Yet his performance is gripping, and his wrenching, raging fourth act monologue nothing short of operatic.

"The Iceman Cometh" doesn't get revived very often. It may be a classic, but repetitive and at times heavy-handed, it could use an editor's touch. That said, it's a play worth seeing, particularly in Goodman's remarkable incarnation. If you see one play this spring, make it this one.