Suburban businessmen weather storm in 'Blizzard '67'

The world premiere of “Blizzard '67” — under the agile, ever-steady direction of Chicago Dramatists' Russ Tutterow — is as bracing as the winds whipping along the Chicago lakeshore during a midwinter snowstorm.

On the face of it, Jon Steinhagen's gripping tragicomedy — set during the record-setting Chicago blizzard that stranded thousands and killed dozens — is about four West suburban businessmen caught up in a natural disaster for which their white-collar careers have left them ill-prepared. And while that certainly piques our interest during this unseasonable 2012 winter, the 45th anniversary of that worst-ever blizzard, there's more to this theatrical docudrama than man vs. nature.

“Blizzard '67” is about four men struggling to survive while they fear being plowed under. You sense that on a good day, these men — played with conviction and emotion by the superb quartet of Wheaton native John Gawlik, Andy Hager, Andy Lutz and Stephen Spencer — barely control their desperation and anxiety. During a crisis ... well, let's just say adversity doesn't bring out the best in everyone.

The drama unfolds in bare-bones, storefront style, on Grant Sabin's wintry set just before and during the storm. It began about 5 a.m. on Jan. 26, 1967, and concluded 29 hours later with Chicago and its suburbs paralyzed by nearly two feet of snow.

We meet Steinhagen's everymen — middle management types drawn together by circumstance rather than choice — as they carpool to the downtown Chicago office of the unidentified corporate machine where they are (literally) nameless cogs. Distrust and competition underscore their frosty relationship, which is reflected in their subtle jibes and hollow pleasantries that suggest — despite the time they spend commuting every day — these men are strangers.

It is during this calm before the storm, on an unseasonably warm Tuesday two days before the snow began to fall, that Spencer's Henkin lets slip (not unintentionally) that he received the promotion his colleagues had been vying for. The revelation further upsets the already uneasy camaraderie that exists between the smug, single Spencer — a go-getter whose private life is a void — and his married carmates: Gawlik's deeply insecure, resentful Landfield, who drives the quartet in his aging Ford Falcon; Hager's Bell, a go-along kind of guy with a somewhat vinegary disposition; and Lutz's ambitious Emery, a clueless newcomer to the corporate world.

They make it to work on the day of the storm, then spend much of their time debating whether to try to drive home via the increasingly treacherous downtown streets or take the company up on its offer to put all four of them up in the same hotel room. That's an option none of them finds particularly appealing, the hotel's lounge notwithstanding. Determined to make it home, the men venture out into the storm. where they quickly become disoriented, the car gets stuck and they get separated when one of them exits to check on a stranded motorist.

The acting is first-rate throughout, beginning with Gawlik's exposed-nerve performance as a man crushed by a sense of inferiority. Spencer reflects the genial swagger of an up-and-comer (in another play he might be selling real estate to seniors) whose days are full and whose nights are empty. There's plenty of feeling in the low-key approach adopted by Hager, whose subtlety makes a telling moment out of an offhand observation. Last but not least is Lutz, whose would-be conspirator Emery is redeemed by a moving display of conscience.

A resident playwright with Chicago Dramatists, Steinhagen has an ear for dialogue and eye for detail — note Henkin's choice of reading material, Truman Capote's “In Cold Blood” — and apparently an inexhaustible muse. (His play “Aces” premiered last year at Signal Ensemble Theatre and another, “Dating Walter Dante,” opens next month at Raven Theatre.) His muscular, yet vivid writing rings true. Peppered with references to real events and landmarks, the play is authentic with just the right amount of pathos.

While Tutterow does a nice job maintaining tension, he gets an assist from sound designer Joseph Fosco and projection designer Anna Henson, whose simple but effective black-and-white video shows headlights barely piercing the swirling snow.

If your heart doesn't race a little at the first act's conclusion, you've never driven in a blizzard.

If that's so, lucky you.