'Requiem for a Heavyweight' a knockout
Shattered Globe Theatre's "Requiem for a Heavyweight" comes out swinging.
Not only that, director Lou Contey's impeccable production lands every punch: from the opening fight -- a bloody, sweaty, seemingly endless battle underscored by the sound of pained grunts and gloved fists pummeling bare torsos -- to the strangled cry that concludes Rod Serling's roughly eloquent lament.
The stage version of Serling's 1956 "Playhouse 90" teleplay about an aging prizefighter confronting the end of his career and struggling to salvage his tattered dignity, suggests there's very little sweetness to the science of boxing. Mostly, a bare-knuckle examination of loyalty, betrayal and dignity, it skirts the edge of melodrama. But Shattered Globe, which has a flair for mid-century American drama almost unequaled in Chicago, balances grit and sentiment to deliver a visceral, extremely moving revival.
Set in mid-1950s New York on the second tier of the fight racket, Serling's "Requiem" is populated by predatory promoters, naive pugilists (little more than slabs of beef) and pathetic has-beens shadowboxing with ghosts.
It's a solid play with credible characters whose palooka patois give it an air of authenticity. There are colorful references (one fighter "couldn't hit a cherry off a sundae," a manager has "larceny inside from (his) crotch to the top of (his) shiny head"); harsh truths ("you're not a winner anymore, make a little on the losing"); and admissions ("you were class the minute you put on the gloves") powerful in their simplicity.
Moreover, this play contains moments of self-reflection so genuine they leave a lump in the throat and a tear in the eye, something the audience's quiet sniffles bore out opening night.
Contey and lighting designer Mike Durst bring a cinematic quality to the production. That's especially true of the opening scene, a bracing, gasp-inducing fight with punishing choreography by Nick Sandys, spot-on sound by Mike Tutaj and prosthetics by Ora Jewell-Busche, whose aptly unappetizing makeup makes a cauliflower of a fighter's ear and raw hamburger of his cheek.
As for the ensemble, it's top-notch, with a towering (in every sense of the word) performance by Sean Sullivan as the self-aware, unschooled yet unfailingly honorable prizefighter Mountain McClintock, an aging pro who never took a dive and who, after 14 years and 111 fights, finds himself on the ropes.
The excellent Bill Bannon brings dimension to Maish, Mountain's manager, whose morality shifts to accommodate his interests, which he serves at Mountain's expense. Brian McCartney, as trainer Army (the play's conscience), and Scott Aiello, who sets teeth on edge as the brutish manager Leo (a step below Maish on the food chain), reflect the fine character work that defines this production. Paula Stevens is self-possessed and pleasant as Grace, a sympathetic employment counselor helping Mountain find work that doesn't involve his fists. There's Jamie Vann as the seemingly genial wrestling promoter Pirelli, whose easy smile turns on a dime into a snarl, and David Bendena, menacing as Greeny, the thug who puts the screws to Maish sealing Mountain's fate.
Then there's Sullivan. Standing stiffly, his mouth drawn as if he's in pain, speaking impassively in a rough voice, the guileless Sullivan is deeply affecting as a man whose body gets battered inside the ring and whose spirit gets broken when he steps out of it. His rich, wrenching performance suggests an actor in peak form. Here's hoping somebody gives this up-and-comer another shot, and soon.
"Requiem for a Heavyweight"
4 stars out of four
Location: Victory Gardens Greenhouse Theater, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago
Times: 8 p.m. Thursdays to Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays; through March 8
Running time: Two hours with intermission
Parking: Discounted (with ticket stub) at the Children's Memorial parking garage
Tickets: $27-$35
Box office: (773) 871-3000 or www.shatteredglobe.org
Rating: For teens and older