Impressive ‘Windfall’ ponders the price of a life

“Windfall” — 3.5 stars

One hundred years ago, during a speech to the American College of Surgeons, Dr. Allan Craig calculated the human body’s “drugstore value.”

“Consider the average 150-pound body of a man from its chemical aspect,” said Craig, according to a New York Times report. “It contains lime enough to whitewash a fair-sized chicken coop, sugar enough to fill a small shaker, iron to make a tenpenny nail, plus water. The total value of these ingredients is 98 cents.”

A century later, that value has risen to about $133, according to a 2025 BBC report.

In “Windfall,” a provocative new drama running through May 31 at Steppenwolf Theatre, playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney examines the value of a life through an all-too-common tragedy: a police shooting of a young Black person and the government’s attempt to ease a father’s grief with a cash settlement.

Directed by Awoye Timpo, the play opens with an arresting prologue of music and spoken word that introduces nonbinary 20-something Eli (Esco Jouléy, eminently truthful) and fellow artists Cori (Jon Michael Hill) and Brother 1 (Namir Smallwood).

We meet them camped outside a police station, protesting police brutality against Black people. In one of several fourth-wall breaks, Eli encourages the audience to turn on their cellphone flashlights as a display of unity and a way of documenting police aggression.

“This light is made to gather, as they rush to drive us apart,” says Eli.

Moments later, the fatal shot rings out. And the scene shifts to the modest home of Eli’s father, twice-married Henri “Mr. Mano” Tamaño.

Played with gruff humanity by Michael Potts, Henri argues with the specter of his late adopted son Marcus. Marcus, played by Glenn Davis with a combination of affection and frustration tinged with regret, prowls the stage perimeter, keeping watch over the man who once watched over him.

Marcus urges Henri to take the money city officials offered to compensate for Eli’s death. Henri balks, calling the settlement blood money.

“It’s all blood money,” counters Marcus. “It’s blood magic — that’s how it all works. You gotta get a lil on you in order for it to really work. You gotta stick your hand in the fire to get the golden chalice.”

Desperate to quell the resistance Eli’s shooting sparked, three city officials visit Henri with an offer in hand.

Each is played by Alana Arenas, whose tour-de-force performances are as comical as they are unsettling. The First Lady offers him a cash settlement, which comes with neither an apology nor an admission of guilt. Miss Second threatens to foreclose Henri’s home over unpaid taxes, which she informs him he can pay if he accepts the money. The Last One, the most overtly threatening, raises the offer to seven figures but demands Henri disavow his child in return.

In addition to grief and accountability, “Windfall” addresses social justice, police brutality, gender identity, parent-child relationships and community activism. That’s a lot for Oscar-winning screenwriter McCraney (“Moonlight”) to pack into two hours, and the play feels overstuffed as a result.

Still, McCraney’s trademark poetry and candor, Timpo’s holistic staging, Mahmoud Khan’s music direction and the unadorned authenticity of the performances make for engaging theater.

To that end, Hill and Smallwood make big impressions in small roles. Hill earns laughs as a coroner’s assistant who encounters a body that is very much alive. Smallwood, as the officer who shot Eli, elicits begrudging sympathy when he confesses he fired out of fear of protesters who claim to want peace while chanting “no more peace.” It explains his actions but doesn’t excuse them.

The exchanges between Potts and Davis — a father and son who feel deeply for each other but never learned how to express that affection — are among the most affecting.

So too are the monologues McCraney penned for Henri. Delivered with aching eloquence by Potts, they reveal a father’s struggle, the depth of his love and his determination to accept his children for who they are.

The human body’s drugstore value may top out at $133, but devotion like that? Priceless.

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Location: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St., Chicago, (312) 335-1650, steppenwolf.org

Showtimes: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Friday; 3 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday; 3 p.m. Sunday through May 31. Also, 2 p.m. May 20. No 7:30 p.m. performance April 28 and May 5, 9 and 26. No 3 p.m. performance May 9

Running time: About two hours, with intermission

Tickets: $20-$148.50

Parking: Paid lots nearby

Rating: For adults; contains mature content, language, some violence