Great acting rescues Steppenwolf's 'Penelope'

Watching Enda Walsh's “Penelope,” in its Chicago area premiere at Steppenwolf Theatre, I felt much like I imagine the titular character, wife of Greek warrior Odysseus, felt being separated from her husband for 20 years.

Unsatisfied.

Don't get me wrong, Walsh's blackly comic riff on minor players from Homer's “The Odyssey” — specifically the B-list suitors who laid siege to Odysseus' house and attempted to seduce his wife during his absence — is inventive. Walsh's dialogue is artful, albeit verbose. And the preening of these middle-aged, B-list Romeos generates laughs, especially when the suitors sport tiny swimsuits, black dress socks and noisy bathrobes.

As for Walsh's examination of wasted lives spent pursuing a prize (for that is how they perceive Penelope), it surely resonates with men (and women) of a certain age.

Finally Steppenwolf's production under the always astute, rock-solid direction of Amy Morton boasts a formidable cast. It includes Ian Barford, Scott Jaeck, Yasen Peyankov and Tracy Letts (a last-minute replacement for John Mahoney who left the show following a death in his family), all of whom deliver bold, fearless performances.

But for all that, “Penelope” isn't nearly as impressive as it aspires to be. Too often, Walsh's wordiness gets in the way of characters' self-revelations and confessions. which unfold in showy monologues that — Morton's accomplished cast notwithstanding — have a by-the-numbers feel.

Walsh's premise is intriguing, but his execution is formulaic. Case in point: the simmering distrust among the suitors, their alliances made and abandoned. Then there's the sense of impending doom among this clown quartet who — unlike Samuel Beckett's Vladimir and Estragon — know exactly what awaits them at the end of their odyssey.

It all begins with a pop culture wink-and-nod as the theme to the 1960s TV show “The Dating Game” ushers in bookish Fitz (Letts in another rich, emotional performance) and blowhard Dunne (the deliciously narcissistic Jaeck). Sporting bathing suits and bathrobes, the two amble along the deck piled with folding lawn chairs symbolizing defeated suitors, and climb down into the empty, litter-strewn swimming pool (terrifically conceived by set designer Walt Spangler) outside Penelope's house.

At the bottom, they meet Quinn (a coolly, calculating Peyankov) who's cooking a sausage on an enormous but defective grill (a metaphor that requires no explanation) and put-upon Burns (the earnest, self-aware Barford, perfect at a climactic moment) the youngest of the Speedo-clad foursome, a sort of cabin boy who mixes cocktails and fills snack bowls as if they were at a poolside soiree instead of engaged in an all-or-nothing fight to the death.

The men represent the last of the 100-plus suitors who for two decades have vied for the affection of Logan Vaughn's enigmatic, ever-silent Penelope — marital constancy incarnate — the devoted wife who waited 10 years while Odysseus fought the Trojan War, and another 10 while he battled gods and monsters to return home to her. The men spend their days unsuccessfully wooing her while she watches them on a closed-circuit television from the comfy confines of her room overlooking the drained pool.

This day, their efforts take on a special urgency after each dreamed about the horrible fate that awaits them when Odysseus returns. As each competes one last time to win Penelope's heart, these “talking dead,” as Burns describes them, confront the meaninglessness of their lives and reveal their utter impotence. They are talkers, not doers. So how could Penelope find any of them desirable for anything other than toying with while she awaits her husband's return?

More importantly, as much as they claim to love Penelope, they don't really know her. Their pursuit is more about them — about competition and men's endless pursuit of power — than it is about her. Dunne wants Penelope to satisfy his inflated ego. Fitz wants her because the absence of an “all-consuming love” creates a void not even his beloved Homer can fill. Quinn — who applies the art of war and commerce to the art of seduction — wants her because he wants to win. And Burns wants her for confirmation that honesty, trust and affection still exist in a world populated by men at war.

“Penelope”

★ ★ ½

<b>Location: </b>Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St., Chicago, (312) 335-1650 or steppenwolf.org

<b>Showtimes:</b> 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Friday; 3 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday through Feb. 5. No performances Dec. 24, 25 or Jan. 1. 2 p.m. Jan. 18, 25 and Feb. 1. Sunday evening performances through Jan. 15 only.

<b>Running time:</b> 90 minutes, no intermission

<b>Tickets: </b>$20-$78

<b>Parking:</b> Nearby pay lots; $10 in garage adjacent to theater

<b>Rating: </b>For adults; includes violence, adult themes and language