Steppenwolf's tart 'Domesticated' looks at morality, monogamy in the political realm
"Domesticated," a tart, darkly comic meditation on morality, monogamy and marriage against the backdrop of politics, suggests that attempting to tame the human male isn't just unnatural, it imperils his existence.
Consider the biological evidence included in this scathing look at the personal and professional repercussions of a sex scandal, written and fluidly directed by Bruce Norris (2011 Pulitzer Prize winner for "Clybourne Park") for Steppenwolf Theatre.
Norris introduces the evidence as part of a student's science project on sexual dimorphism - sexual differences - in nonhuman species. The male anglerfish, for example, attaches itself to the female and for the rest of his days supplies sperm for her eggs. No longer an independent entity, he's merely a means to a procreative end.
That sort of evolution (devolution?) would surely alarm a human male. Maybe it alarmed "Domesticated's" Bill Pulver (Tom Irwin in a combination of condescension, charm and self-absorption), a gynecologist turned politician who risks stability, security and social acceptance in a series of affairs, one of which forces him into a painful public resignation, while his wife, Judy (Mary Beth Fisher, impassive, prickly and practically perfect), stands by, seething.
Norris is a talented, deliciously subversive who relishes rolling back the stylish surface of upper-middle class existence to reveal the sordidness below. His cleverly caustic, often politically incorrect dialogue is a prickly delight that - when coupled with some blistering performances, especially from Irwin and Fisher - makes for provoking, funny theater.
The combatants in Norris' gender war are seriously flawed and not especially likable. Moreover, we've witnessed these battles before. Still, there's something about these well-matched opponents that makes this play worth watching.
The action unfolds initially in a well-appointed school gymnasium (spot-on work by designer Todd Rosenthal) where the couple's youngest daughter Cassidy (Emily Chang) delivers a presentation on the sexual behavior of members of various animal species.
The scene shifts to Bill's on-camera mea culpa for a sexual indiscretion involving a young female prostitute named Becky (Rae Gray), which concluded with her in a coma, after she fell and struck her head on the bed frame. Bill claims it was an accident. Not everyone agrees.
As is the case when a prominent person gets caught with his hand in the honey pot, Bill delivers his resignation accompanied by flinty, tight-lipped Judy (a seamless performance by Fisher as the political wife personified). More frustrated than contrite and with a perverse need to justify his behavior, he veers off script to ask what purpose such endless self-flagellation serves. Unable to articulate an answer, he abruptly concludes his speech and hurries off camera.
But for his family, the fallout has just begun. Judy channels her anger into writing a book about the experience, which lands the couple on a TV talk show hosted by Mildred Marie Langford, terrific as a self-important host spinning private pain and public humiliation into ratings gold.
Oldest daughter Casey (Melanie Neilan) - a portrait of surly, sullen, self-righteousness - takes every opportunity to berate and belittle her father. Bill's mother, played by Meg Thalken, is more forgiving, while all-but-forgotten Cassidy remains silent, except during her biology reports interspersed with scenes of the family's deterioration.
Providing damage control is Judy's hard-driving attorney friend Bobbie, played by Beth Lacke (like Fisher, ideally cast), who negotiates a financial settlement with Becky's family. Judy eventually learns Bill cheated on her dozens of times in the last 10 years and his affairs have cost them $74,000. Those indiscretions included a fling with Bobbie several years earlier at a time when Bobbie's own marriage was in trouble.
So none of the adults in this sordid little tale is blameless. That includes Judy, who had an affair with her college ethics professor. The first act in this pulverizing gender war belongs to her. Bill barely gets a word in. Literally. His tearful outbursts (which are very funny by the way) don't count.
His downward spiral continues in the second, more visceral act, which finds his soon-to-be-ex wife and daughters recoiling and his attempts to resume his medical practice fizzling. Even casual interactions with women turn ugly, as evidenced by an altercation with a transgendered woman played by Esteban Andres Cruz.
But in the play's second act, Bill presents his side to a disinterested bartender, also played by Gray, who is among several actors taking on multiple roles. Casting himself as a victim, he argues human males are not meant to be monogamous. They crave variety, apparently in the form of a twenty-something prostitute dressed like a schoolgirl. In a superbly performed monologue, Irwin's Bill insists marriage does not come naturally to men, as it does to women, who embrace its "restriction, reproduction and real estate." He further claims that women - exacting payback for centuries of oppression - use marriage to get what they really want: a child who they will always love more than their husbands. It's a petty argument from a profoundly insensitive man who owes his misfortune to his ill-controlled urges and nothing more.
“Domesticated”
★ ★ ★
Location: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St., Chicago, (312) 335-1650 or
Showtimes: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Friday and 3 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday through Feb. 7. Also 1:30 p.m. Jan. 24; 2 p.m. Jan 20, 27 and Feb. 3. No shows Dec. 23 and 24. No 7:30 p.m. shows Jan. 17, 24, 31 and Feb. 7
Running time: About two hours, 20 minutes with intermission
Tickets: $20-$89
Parking: $11 in the garage adjacent to the theater; metered street parking also available
Rating: For adults; contains mature content, sexual situations, adult language