Theatre in Review: Golden Boy (Belasco Theatre)

	Tony Shalhoub, Seth Numrich, Danny Burstein. Photo: Paul Kolnik

If you want to understand why Lincoln Center Theater is so crucial to the life of the New York theatre scene, go see Golden Boy. Clifford Odets' epic indictment of the American Dream is a big piece, in every sense of the word, not just because it requires 20 speaking parts and multiple locations. It also requires a company of actors who can embrace the author's signature style, which is as distinctive as Elizabethan verse drama or Restoration comedy. And it needs a director who is capable of infusing this brutal, tragic tale with a pulsing, furious sense of life. Bartlett Sher, who directed a smashing Awake and Sing! for Lincoln Center Theater six years ago, grasps the grandeur of Odets' vision, treating his plays as operas for the spoken word.

And, in Golden Boy, what words they are -- an unforgettable argot spun out of Depression-era street slang, the Yiddish theatre, and the wisecracking dialogue of Warner Brothers movie melodramas: "There are 43,000 minutes in a month -- can't you give me five?" asks Joe Bonaparte, the play's young hero, trying to get the attention of Tom, a boxing manager. "Truth is cheap; we bought it for two cents," snaps Joe's brother, waving a newspaper that reveals Joe's previously secret boxing activities. "What exhaust pipe did he crawl out of?" sneers Lorna, Tom's tough-talking girlfriend, assessing a distinctly unlovely stranger. "The city is full of girls who don't look like they had parents," says Joe to Lorna, trying to locate the woman behind the peroxide-and-cigarettes exterior.

This talk -- acid, edgy, funny, and packing the knockout power of a good right cross -- enlivens the story of Joe, a gifted violinist, who, sick to death of cramped tenement living and a nagging feeling of being lost in a city of seven million, dreams of being a prizefighter -- a career that he believes will make him something more than just another son of an immigrant. Loaded with charm and moxie, he all but forces himself on Tom Moody, a down-on-his-luck manager who needs a big win to buy his way out of a dead marriage. Under Tom's eye, Joe blossoms into a promising contender, but he remains haunted by the road not taken, holding back against his opponents for fear of permanently damaging his hands and yearning for the approval of his father, who watches his son's transformation with quiet dismay.

For Joe, the path to success and the road to ruin are one and the same -- especially when he falls under the patronage of Eddie Fuseli, a gangster known for his reptilian mien and closeted homosexuality, who treats the young man as his personal possession. Joe also falls hard for Lorna, Tom's lover, a tense, neurotic hard-luck dame who would prefer the material comforts of a loveless marriage to facing yet another tumultuous, bruising affair; they make a perfect pair, both on the run from their authentic selves, loving and fighting with equal intensity, without ever finding real satisfaction. As the fruits of success prove increasingly sour, Joe becomes more and more impossible and self-destructive.

One of the great pleasures of Sher's production is the gang of great character actors he has assembled for the occasion. Danny Mastrogiorgio is equally tough and tender as Tom, who sees Joe as a ticket to a permanent berth in the big time and marriage to Lorna. Danny Burstein's powerful stage presence is put to excellent use as Tokio, the trainer and arguably the one member of Joe's entourage who really cares about him. Jonathan Hadary underplays skillfully as an old Socialist who prefers Spinoza to fisticuffs. Dagmara Dominczyk and Michael Aronov add plenty of flavorful detail as Joe's sister and her cabbie husband, whose battles always end in a clinch. As another hanger-on who disdains Joe's too-careful style in the ring, Ned Eisenberg makes the most of his needling remarks. ("The people who pay to watch a brain trust, you can fit in a telephone booth.") Anthony Crivello combines quiet menace with a creepy, submerged eroticism as Eddie. And Tony Shalhoub compellingly turns Joe's father into a silent oracle of doom.

In the two most important roles, two relative newcomers impress mightily. Seth Numrich, who made such a strong impression as the heedless, adventuresome hero of War Horse, delves deeply into Joe's divided soul, charting his descent from eager young kid to prickly, mouthy monster in need of constant attention. In one of the play's most gripping moments, Joe's father hands over to him the violin he has scraped and saved up to buy. Joe, who says he no longer wants it, solemnly puts the instrument under his chin, leaves and the room, and plays a few bars of music; when he returns, the look on Numrich's face tells you all you need to know about the forces pulling him apart. Later, having accidentally killed an opponent in the ring, Joe is brought back to the locker room, stunned and covered in blood; the raw pain in Numrich's voice is nearly unbearable.

Equally fine is Yvonne Strahovski, the Australian actress best known for the television series Chuck, as Lorna, the self-described "tramp from Newark," whose hard shell cracks as she reluctantly begins to fall in love with Joe. She looks great in period clothes, nails the New Jersey accent, and gives every one of her lines a coat of hard shellac. ("When I came out of the cocoon, I was a butterfly, and butterflies don't work.") But there's always a throb of pain beneath each smart remark, and she makes clear that Lorna is honestly torn between Tom and Joe, two very different men who represent two very different ways of life. It's a remarkable debut.

Golden Boy also gets a production design commensurate with the scope of Odets' vision. Michael Yeargan's scenery places some interiors -- Tom's office and the Bonaparte apartment -- on platforms backed by an oppressive wall of tenements; you instantly have a sense of the world Joe is trying to escape. The gym where Joe trains and the locker room at the boxing arena are rendering in grittily realistic detail, with windows so grimy they barely admit light. A street scene is created out of an impressionistic set of details -- a bench, a tree branch, a traffic light. Donald Holder's remarkably fluid lighting uses sidelight and units built into the deck to create carefully stylized and highly dimensional looks; this is one of his finest achievements. Catherine Zuber's costumes include an array of expertly tailored men's suits -- Eddie's slightly too-fashionable outfits are especially well done -- and a couple of knockout ensembles for Lorna. The sound design, by Peter John Still and Marc Salzberg, combines period tunes (such as "You Took Advantage of Me") with violin concertos and the roar of boxing fans.

Joe's self-devouring search for fame is an evergreen theme in American drama, but Odets' teeming, wide-canvas treatment of it, sadly, is a thing of the past. Plays possessed of such ambitions were once common occurrences, but no more, for a tangle of reasons that have to do with money, changing sensibilities, and the exile of theatre from its once-central place in American culture. Golden Boy is a powerful reminder of what Broadway once was, and could be once again, under the right circumstances. No other New York company has the resources and the talent at hand to take on a project such as this, which provides a vital connection to a still-meaningful chapter of our theatrical past. The theatre district is loaded with holiday-themed entertainments this month, but, to my eyes, Golden Boy is the real Christmas present to theatregoers.--David Barbour