‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ @ Bass Performance Hall
Photos by Julia Cervantes
—Jan Farrington
From the rich source materials of a legendary novel and an iconic film, playwright Aaron Sorkin has crafted a remarkable piece of theater, a new play that pulls apart, re-structures, and expands our understanding of To Kill a Mockingbird’s particularly American truths. And Sorkin collapses the distance between then and now—hitting hard at any comforting notion we might have that Harper Lee’s story is about “the old days.”
No sir, no ma’am, we’re still in the thick of it—still trying to heal the wounds of racism and injustice, and to stop the bleeding out of our national soul.
I have a few qualms about Sorkin’s adaptation, but at Bass Performance Hall on Wednesday night, an engaged audience stuck with the touring company from start to finish, and then roared approval of this fine cast, led by Richard Thomas as small-town Southern lawyer Atticus Finch.
The play begins with a bare stage and three young adults, older versions of the novel’s children, Scout and Jem Finch (Maeve Moynihan, Justin Mark) and their visiting friend Dill (Steven Lee Johnson). The trio are both narrators and “participants” (as Dill says)—slipping fluidly into and out of the action, seamlessly becoming the kids they were.
The trial of Tom Robinson, a Black father and farm worker accused of raping a white woman, is separated into vivid single scenes. They are dropped like explosives into this quiet, gently humorous story of a small-town summer and a father whose children love him—but are just growing into an adult-sized understanding of who he is. He, and they, will be tested and changed by these months.
The considerable skills of the show’s director Bartlett Sher—and its roster of designers—give this production the speed and energy needed to tell the story. Miriam Buether’s floating (sometimes airborne) sets slide into place in mere seconds, creating the Finch home with solid porch and almost-transparent walls, then the courtroom, the jail, the schoolhouse and other glimpses of the little town of Maycomb, Alabama in the 1930s. Jennifer Tipton’s lighting is excellent in every scene, from coldly lit courtroom to the gold glow of a dining table lamp. Ann Roth’s costumes (denim overalls for Scout, tan summer suit for Atticus) are in fine period style. Behind the action, composer Adam Guettel’s original music is quietly sonorous, almost hymn-like—and in fact, a hymn eventually happens.
Standouts in the cast are many. The three “kids” (Moynihan, Mark, and Johnson) keep up an exhausting pace; Johnson’s Dill is amusingly philosophical, Mark’s Jem more a man-boy of action, and Moynihan’s Scout alternates between feisty and sweet—but as she roams the courtroom like a half-seen shadow during the trial, we sense the young lawyer Sorkin envisions in her future.
As Bob Ewell, father of rape victim Mayella (Mariah Lee plays her as hair-trigger and pitiful), Ted Koch spreads hate as he spews white supremacy cliches from the witness chair. Greg Wood plays “town drunk” Link Deas, whose history with Macomb’s Black population sets him apart. Mary Badham—who played Scout in the movie!—is funny and dreadful as the cane-waving racist neighbor Mrs. Dubose. Jeff Still’s admirable Judge Taylor still hopes against the odds to produce something resembling justice in his court; that’s why he pushes friend Atticus to take Tom Robinson’s case. And Yaegel T. Welch convinces us early on that Tom Robinson really is the upright, kind man he seems—though a lifetime of right living doesn’t help him when he’s accused.
Jacqueline Williams peels back a lot of layers as housekeeper Calpurnia; her role is much more central than it was in either book or film. (For the Depression era, is her running snarky commentary believable? Perhaps not, but it’s still good to hear.) She and Atticus feel more like longtime friends than servant and employer—and when Atticus tells her Tom’s trial will work out, that he “knows the people of this town”…Calpurnia shoots back: “Not better than I do.” The townsfolk need time to change old ways of thinking, Atticus says. “How much time,” says Calpurnia dryly, “do the people of Maycomb need?”
Richard Thomas’ calm dignity is just right for Atticus. He makes a lovely father, with a shoulder just made for a troubled head to lean on. His sudden fierceness in the courtroom (once he believes he has evidence strong enough to set Tom free) startles us, but it shouldn’t. For his family, and for the law, he will do anything—even, apparently, get Bob Ewell in a headlock when the threats become too much to bear. (I can’t see Gregory Peck making this move, but Mr. Sorkin, go for it.)
Where I think Sorkin wanders too far away from Harper Lee’s original character is in making this Atticus more naive than we’ve seen before—almost painfully so from our vantage point nearly a century later. Is it a way of contrasting his white viewpoint with Calpurnia’s? This Atticus keeps saying “he knows” the people he grew up with, understands their hearts…but the events of the trial don’t prove him right.
It takes nothing away from Thomas’ performance, but leaves us wondering if Sorkin’s Atticus truly is wise and far-seeing, or just deluded—and I don’t think that was Harper Lee’s intention. “Joy cometh in the morning,” Atticus quotes to Cal—a Bible image that promises darkness will pass. She replies: “And morning is taking its sweet time.”
But Sorkin’s adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird is fine theater, and a story that needs to be told—and seen—every chance we get. It runs through Sunday (October 1), so catch it quick if you’ve been waiting for this one to “come ‘round.”
WHEN: September 26-October 1
WHERE: Bass Performance Hall, Fort Worth TX
WEB: basshall.com
