Dark humor pervades two new Broadway productions, Martin McDonagh’s Hangmen and Tracy Letts’s The Minutes, both delayed years by the COVID crisis and finally opening in an atmosphere of disquiet and insecurity. Both plays address injustice and political turmoil with satire and conclude we live in nasty times with little brightness to look forward to.
The Minutes had a production at Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theater in 2017 and was announced to open on Broadway before the pandemic, but there were hold-ups in addition to the health crisis. Like Hangmen, The Minutes has been worth the long wait and features spectacular staging and tight-knit ensembles.
Both works are about community and justice and the slippery definitions of those loaded terms. In both plays, a character perceived as an outsider is dealt with harshly and the audience must decide if the crowd’s actions are justified.
Though just as riotous as Hangmen, The Minutes is a bit less subtle in its satire. Premiered in Chicago in the early days of the Trump administration, this metaphorical meteor of a comedy takes place at a Midwestern city council meeting during an appropriately stormy night. (David Zinn’s detailed set captures the flavor of official suburbia.) The apparently average elected officials have gathered to discuss the upcoming annual Heritage Festival, a new handicapped-accessible public fountain and parking spaces. But something is definitely amiss due to the mysterious absence of the usually diligent Councilman Carp and the lack of recorded minutes from the previous week’s meeting to explain it to new councilman Peel who was not present due to the death of his mother.
Letts and director Anna D. Shapiro skillfully build the tension, rising from minor discomfort at Carp’s disappearance to a cataclysmic confrontation dealing with the town’s true history (no spoilers). Along the way, Letts lets off a stunning series of absurd exchanges twisting words and meanings, recalling the most brilliant madness of Ionesco, all dryly delivered with impeccable timing and played for truth rather than laughs. Political attitudes and posturings are skewered as the members simultaneously jockey for position, cover their asses, and stick their fingers up to see which way the wind is blowing.
Without revealing too much about the shocking finale—staged with maximum impact by Shapiro and even more harrowing than the one in Hangmen—Letts brilliantly roasts our current fractured political scene and the nationalist trends to distort our history. The only quarrel I have is a big speech delivered by the missing Carp in a frightening flashback. The preaching-to-the-choir monologue, though passionately acted by Ian Barford, is too on-the-nose for this otherwise subtle and satiric show.
Letts also gives a brilliantly understated performance as the seemingly jovial mayor who lets the hammer down with devastating force when his cozy world is threatened. Noah Reid has the right combination of spunk and doubt as the probing Peel. Veteran Austin Pendleton garners gargantuan laughs as the oldest Councilman who crabs about his parking space and can’t follow anything that’s happening. Jessie Mueller clearly delineates the conflicted clerk, battling between her ethics and her loyalty to the group. Sally Murphy is a dizzy delight as a scattered member, and Blair Brown expertly renders a long-winded senior councilwoman reading a hilariously endless speech. Jeff Still, Cliff Chamberlain, Danny McCarthy and K. Todd Freeman all have moments of bite and brio. None of this crazy crew descends into stereotype or cliche, though they are in an exaggerated parody of reality.
There are only 90 minutes in The Minutes, but they are probably among the funniest and most thought-provoking on Broadway.
