BWW Reviews: SCR Stages Captivating Post-Civil War Drama THE WHIPPING MAN

In South Coast Repertory's excellent new production of Matthew Lopez's captivating post-Civil War play THE WHIPPING MAN---now playing at the Tony Award-winning Costa Mesa theater through January 25---a little-known historical fact is unveiled rather matter-of-factly: that before and during the bloody conflict between Northern and Southern states, many of the white, wealthy Southerners were, in fact, Jewish... and that they were, like their King James Bible-thumping neighbors, slave owners as well. In most instances, many of these slaves were even taught and converted to their master's religion.

It's a bit of a head-scratcher, then, when one thinks about it. Why would a people who've known the hardships and atrocities of bondage and slavery within their very own history---advocate for the similar enslavement of an entire race of people? Even worse, why would they even support or fight in a war that, for all intents and purposes, seeks to uphold such a horrific, inhumane enterprise they have apparently suffered through themselves?

It is this internal, theological tug-of-war---along with their new positions resulting from the aftermath of the actual war---that haunts THE WHIPPING MAN, an absorbing, character-driven drama that presents a seemingly unique new perspective of this era in American History that so many other similarly-set plays have yet to intimately explore.

Under the direction of SCR Founding Artistic Director Martin Benson---guiding a trio of powerful, riveting acting performances---the play attempts to convey how religion has affected three different people (two slaves separated by a wide age gap, and one conflicted son of a slave owner), both in their respective lives before the war, and in this new post-war frontier of emancipated slaves and newly-poor, traumatized war veterans.

It is Spring of 1865, and the Civil War has already reached its inevitable end. The curtain rises to reveal the front parlor of what once must have been a grand, palatial Southern antebellum mansion in Richmond, Virginia, now heavily damaged. Cracks on the wall and a huge second floor crater, all darkened by blast remnants and burnt soot, add to an already foreboding mood set by the loud thunderstorm brewing to an alarming frenzy outside.

A long-haired, bearded figure bursts through the front door. It is Caleb (Adam Haas Hunter), one of the many men in his clan who went away to fight for the Confederacy. With the war over (and with the South losing), he has come home, limping in severe pain and covered in dirt and grime. He is understandably, at first, unrecognizable to Simon (the incredible Charlie Robinson), the oldest of the family's faithful slaves who stuck around after everyone---including members of Caleb's family---had long abandoned the war-torn city (it seems Caleb's father, according to Simon, promised to return to Richmond with Simon's wife and daughter once the chaos subsides).

Of course, with the war concluded, things have, well, changed since Caleb was last at his family's home.

Simon is now, technically, a free man, and no longer a slave. Yet he still chooses to attend to the ailing Caleb out of loyalty and, perhaps, just good, old-fashioned kindness---this, even after Caleb mindlessly barks orders at him as if they're back in their previous states.

It looks like both men are going to need some time to adjust to the new ways.

Eventually, it is discovered that Caleb's pained wincing is much more dire than he has originally let on. He has been nursing (rather poorly) a bullet wound on his leg, something he adamantly prefers not to have treated at the local veteran's hospital (he has his reasons, which we all learn later). With Caleb's stubborn mind set on not going to a doctor, Simon tells him that the injury is so severe that there is no other choice but to amputate his infected leg right then and there, before the gangrene spreads and kills him completely.

To assist him with the impromptu surgery, Simon recruits John (Jarrod M. Smith), another slave owned by Caleb's family who has also stuck around (he too has his mysterious reasons). Unlike the much older Simon, John has been even more brazen in post-War Richmond---busying himself by looting and raiding all the abandoned mansions for sacks-full of trinkets, supplies, and, of course, bottles of whiskey.

We soon learn that John grew up pretty much side-by-side with Caleb, and the two were even friendly buds at one point, even though John was technically "owned" by the family. But at present, their reunion is less than enthusiastic.

By slavery standards, if there is even such a ridiculous delineation, Caleb's family apparently treated their slaves fairly well---at least in Caleb's assertions. Though Caleb is the son of the owner and Simon and John were both slaves, all three men lived under a Jewish household---which meant everyone, including the slaves, learned the Torah and observed all Jewish tenets, holidays, and teachings. Despite being essentially forced into it, Simon, especially, has taken quite a scholarly and spiritual liking to Judaism, and is particularly pleased that Caleb's "homecoming" happened to have coincided with the coming of the Passover holiday.

But first---the amputation. (Thankfully, the audience is spared from seeing too much blood-spurting).

As days pass, the three men who have sought shelter in the ruins of this mansion are forced to confront the new world order, at least in their little uneasy, makeshift microcosm.

Caleb---now missing the lower half of one of his legs---is left to recline in a depressed state on a fainting couch in the front parlor, while piles and piles of John's looted treasures begin to stack up all around. With Passover upon them, Simon---clearly the most devout and faithful of them all---wants to improvise a Seder dinner using whatever they have at hand (hard liquor for wine, celery for bitter greens, soldier's hardtack for matzo, and very un-Kosher horse meat as a substitute for lamb).

Of course, the Seder dinner also involves the retelling of the story of how the Israelites were liberated from slavery in Ancient Egypt---a parallel not lost on anyone, least of all Simon (and, yes, even the audience). It is this belief in eventual liberation that has kept Simon's hopes up all these years.

As with most dramas, bubbling tensions often give way to emotional outbursts---outbursts that expose truths and other oh-em-gee revelations (like the identity of the never-seen title character), a tactic that seems to be the go-to for THE WHIPPING MAN to advance the story forward. While not entirely objectionable, it does feel a bit manipulative, which it really need not be. The tense relationship within each character is already so palpable even when unspoken that the big reveals feel like soapy moments in an otherwise sufficiently gripping three-character drama.

And speaking of the three characters---my, are they ever blessed to be portrayed by such exemplary actors. As the war-damaged, psyche-tortured Caleb, Hunter makes for a great contrast against his more talkative, reactive counterparts; his heartfelt monologue that opens the second act is entrancing while his scenes of quiet pain utter volumes. As John, Smith presents more than just an affable, though sometimes volatile ne'er-do-well; in his hands, John is a powder-keg squelched by fear. And as Simon, the riveting-to-watch Robinson creates a multi-layered soul with both demons and dreams fighting for dominance. He is as sweet as he is cantankerous, but not overtly so in either direction---a testament to his prowess as a thoughtful character actor. Even as he spoke while simply wiping up blood from the floor, I was at the edge of my seat.

Also tremendously helpful in selling SCR's production of THE WHIPPING MAN's atmospheric authenticity is its hauntingly wrecked set designed by Thomas Buderwitz, a strategically well-composed cacophony of mangled lumber, distressed accoutrements, and war-stained walls. The mood is sustained superbly by Lonnie Rafael Alcaraz's lighting design. Angela Balogh Calin's appropriately blemished costumes is the beautifully-well-worn finishing touch.

Overall, THE WHIPPING MAN at South Coast Repertory is a well-orchestrated stage play that stirs drama and elicits empathy, all while dispensing history and theology lessons. Not only is it an intriguing period piece about the unfortunate consequences of war and slavery (both physical and mental), it is also, at its core, a searing portrait of what it means for a slave to finally achieve a long-denied freedom after a life of seemingly never-ending servitude, and how their faith has had a hand in that struggle---both positively and negatively.

Follow this reviewer on Twitter: @cre8iveMLQ

Photos by Debora Robinson/SCR.

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Performances of THE WHIPPING MAN continue at South Coast Repertory through January 25, 2015. Tickets can be purchased online at www.scr.org, by phone at (714) 708-5555 or by visiting the box office at 655 Town Center Drive in Costa Mesa.

Following its SCR engagement, THE WHIPPING MAN transfers to the Pasadena Playhouse for performances on February 3 - March 1, 2015.

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