True Colors

THEATER REVIEW: David Mamet's Race

by Mark Cofta

Love him or hate him, David Mamet has carved a niche for himself in contemporary American culture. Hell, he's even appeared as himself on The Simpsons. The wonder of it all is that he's done it mainly by pissing people off.

His latest, Race — showcased now in Philadelphia Theatre Co.'s first-rate regional première — evokes his best work (Glengarry Glen Ross, Oleanna) by chewing explicitly and furiously on an issue (the title says it all) while telling a suspenseful story.

Lawyers Jack (Jordan Lage) and Henry (Ray Anthony Thomas) are cut from the familiar cloth of Mamet professional men: ruthless, frank and aphoristic, they (like Mamet himself) waste no time. "Do you know what you can say," bow tie-wearing African-American Henry asks Charles (John Preston), a rich white man accused of raping a young black woman, "to a black man, on the subject of race?"

"Nothing," Charles answers, correctly. But that doesn't stop anyone — including another recognizable Mamet type, the seemingly powerless woman who holds considerable sway over the men (e.g. Speed-the-Plow), young lawyer Susan (Nicole Lewis) — from arguing the delicate issue of race ("like sex," Mamet says, "a subject on which it is near impossible to tell the truth").

Mamet's rat-a-tat dialogue, perfectly paced by director Scott Zigler, often provokes laughter, but we chortle with a dark, rueful, cautiously cynical tone. Take Act 1's curtain line: Susan pronounces, "This isn't about sex, it’s about race," and Jack deadpans, "What’s the difference?" We laugh at their bluntness, cued by their impeccable timing, but the thought lingers. Is it really? Why? Discuss. Debate. Squirm.

Zigler's production excels through its superb cast (Lage and Thomas understudied James Spader and David Alan Grier, respectively, in the Broadway production last season), and Kevin Rigdon's set implies a refurbished building: expensive modern office furniture surrounded by brick walls and steel beams painted white, with an imposed opaque glass entrance. Just like the play, it's not pretty.

Race jabs our media-dulled, politically correct sensibilities with unadorned pragmatism — not only about race, but about law (the legal process is about three things, Jack instructs: "hatred, fear or envy"); sex ("If you’re not doing it," Jack opines, "sex looks funny, but it’s not a crime"); and, of course, lies, lies and more lies ("Neither side wants the truth," Jack states. "Each wants to prevail"). As usual, Mamet doesn't dwell on character biography: These four people exist here and now to win this case, and everything said and done moves inexorably toward that goal, giving their wide-ranging discussions a palpable urgency. This is one of those plays where we really shouldn't know the ending beforehand; its final twists and turns are spectacular.

Don't expect answers, though. If you think America's race issues can be solved in a play — or in your lifetime — Race will disappoint and infuriate. If you're offended by crude sexual language and/or Mamet’s alleged misogyny, then you're doubly fucked. What makes Mamet one of America's great playwrights, though, is that he's willing to vivisect an issue without contriving a neat conclusion. It's going to take a lot of work, we can infer from Race, and no smart-ass playwright can do it for us — but he can sure make us think.

Through Feb. 20, $25-$59, Suzanne Roberts Theatre, 480 S. Broad St., 215-985-0420, philadelphiatheatrecompany.org.