Goodman's engrossing 'Disgraced' reveals sobering truths

Melancholy came over me as I walked to my car after seeing Goodman Theatre's “Disgraced.”

Not about Ayad Akhtar's 2013 Pulitzer Prize-winning play, a provoking examination of race, religion and identity that premiered in 2012 at Chicago's American Theater Company.

Not about Goodman's blistering revival, which hums along like a well-oiled machine under the incisive Kimberly Senior, who directed ATC's original production and the play's subsequent runs off and on Broadway.

And not about the take-no-prisoners performances of Senior's superb cast.

What saddened me was its suggestion that within all of us — regardless of how enlightened, tolerant, culturally aware or assimilated we believe ourselves to be — there resides an allegiance, however scant, to the religious and cultural beliefs of our ancestors. It can be a dangerous place, a place where bigotry and prejudice take root. Yet, even when we try to renounce our tribal identity, we cannot shed it entirely, infinitesimal though it might be. When the “Disgraced” central character Amir (the powerful, charismatic Bernard White), a U.S.-born, Muslim-raised son of Pakistani parents, suggests as much during a dinner party discussion of Islam, the friendly mood turns hostile. Arguments ensue, fueled by scotch and passion, which lead to confessions and revelations that will forever change the relationships between these people.

We first meet Amir, a wealthy corporate attorney and lapsed Muslim (who describes his former religion as “backward” and the Quran as “one very long hate letter to humanity”), in the luxurious New York City apartment he shares with his Caucasian, non-Muslim wife, Emily (Nisi Sturgis). An artist whose work is inspired by Islam, Emily's paintings are under consideration for a show at the prestigious Whitney Museum of American Art.

But her current project, inspired by the behavior of a boorish waiter the night before, is a painting of Amir in the style of Diego Velazquez's “Portrait of Juan de Pareja” from 1650. De Pareja was Velazquez's slave, but in the painting he wears the fine clothing and unwavering gaze of a nobleman. The painting suggests the discrepancy between appearance and reality, it's a discrepancy Amir, because of his race, must constantly address.

That disparity will come up again later, during dinner with Amir's ambitious colleague Jory (Zakiya Young), an African-American lawyer at his firm, and her Jewish husband, Isaac (J. Anthony Crane), a curator at the Whitney.

When we meet him, Amir is speeding along the partnership track living the assimilated American dream with his attractive, successful wife. But things begin to unravel after Amir — at the behest of Emily and his nephew Abe (Behzad Dabu) — visits an imam jailed on what Emily and Abe claim are trumped up terrorism charges. A newspaper article painting Amir as supporting the cleric attracts the attention of his firm's partners, with whom he has been less than forthcoming about his Muslim heritage and his family origins.

Several months later, as his high-powered career begins to stall and his marriage feels the strain, he and Emily invite Jory and Isaac for dinner.

While it is apparent everyone has an agenda, the evening begins well. Amir and Jory gossip about the firm. Isaac informs Emily she's in the show. The mood turns tense when Amir reveals he offers himself to TSA screeners in a display of “pure unmitigated passive aggression,” reasoning that they're profiling him anyway. The conversation shifts to “Islamo-fascism,” the Sept. 11 attacks and Amir's painfully honest yet perverse response, which he acknowledges comes from a deep-seated fidelity to the tribe.

The fiery confrontations that ensue reveal frustration and anger long buried under the guise of political correctness. Tensely directed and expertly acted, the scene barrels toward a violent, shocking conclusion. And that is where the conversation on race, religion and identity begins.

“Disgraced”

★ ★ ★ ½

<b>Location:</b> Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St., Chicago, (312) 443-3800 or <a href="http://goodmantheatre.org">goodmantheatre.org</a>

<b>Showtimes:</b> 7:30 p.m. Wednesday and Thursday; 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 2 and 7:30 p.m. Sunday through Oct. 25. Also 7:30 p.m. Sept. 29; 2 p.m. Oct. 1, 3, 10, 14, 15, 18 and 25. No 7:30 p.m. show Oct. 4, 11 and 25

<b>Running time:</b> About 80 minutes, no intermission

<b>Tickets:</b> $25-$82

<b>Parking:</b> $22, with Goodman Theatre validation at the Government Center Self Park at Clark and Lake streets

<b>Rating:</b> For adults, contains mature subject matter, strong language, violence