Judging by the size of last night's audience, there should be tickets left to see Particularly in the Heartland. And if you happen to be the type who's a little tired of our pop culture's present mood (rampant cynicism peppered with ironic snark)--in other words, if the Colbert Report doesn't entirely resonate, or if the plights of Britney Spears don't exactly inspire, in you, a sense of schadenfreude--then this show might be something you'd care to see.
It stands in stark contrast to the Walker's initial installment of the annual Out There series: last week's performance by Miguel Gutierrez and, ahem, "the Powerful People," which struck me as a masturbatory, self-indulgent piece of artless hipster quackery, passed off (unsuccessfully) as an exercise in shapes and whimsical personalities emerging from pattern. Last night's show, rather, made me feel good about my place in the world. It's a sprawling, even diffuse, and loosely-connected play. The basic premise is shamelessly ludicrous: A trio of evangelical kids, living out in the middle of nowhere, lose their parents to a Kansan twister, but believe the folks have been raptured. (One kid claims to have seen it happen.) To make a long story short: The ghost of Bobby Kennedy shows up, as does a female Wall Street type, and the effect, I suppose, is to turn an inner eye at our blue-state prejudices. For example, there are plenty of moments when the evangelical kids make ridiculous statements; the youngest of the kids, a ten-year-old spitfire named Anna, waxes poetic on her science textbook, which gives plenty of ink to creationism--and, as an audience member, you're already rolling your eyes. We're accustomed to encountering the occasional ironic and/or hateful usage of red-state stereotypes. (The conditioned response is to write them off, focusing instead on the play's other virtues.) But in this show, predictable leftism is not what unfolds--not in the least. Nor are we led to believe the death of Bobby Kennedy was the single event that led this country into its present mess; even he is painted as a complicated character, with plenty of flaws as well as strengths. The message seems to be this: There's plenty of beauty to be discovered if only we allow ourselves to wander outside our black-and-white thinking. Also, people--even (especially?) evangelicals--are essentially good.
In one of the show's most powerful moments, the cast breaks from the script and invites the audience to ask questions. What became clear to me then was that these performers are so entrenched in, and care so much for, their characters that they can even improvise, while staying in character, with relative ease-and without hitting false notes. Again, I reflexively thought the cast would get about the sport of lampooning fundamentalists. But instead, the play's sincerest moment came to pass: An audience member asked Sarah--the middle child, a teenager dabbling in lesbianism--what she plans for her future. The response--to be a better person "and hopefully see my parents again"--startled me. And so, finally, I abandoned my hardened expectations and began to feel the play for what it was. It left me feeling lighter, with a renewed sense of optimism. Go see it.