Photos by Jessica Palopoli
Devil or angel? Cormac McCarthy’s play The Sunset Limited, now playing at San Francisco Playhouse, toys with this question in a tense two-man drama starring luminous Bay Area actors Charles Dean and Carl Lumbly, identified in the script only as Black and White. McCarthy’s play does not cast racial judgments, but religious concerns are a major factor in the onstage discussion between a Jesus freak and the ultra-liberal atheist he rescued from attempted suicide. In Director Bill English’s production, the two men argue passionately about the meaning of life, only to end with notes of hope and despair. The play script depends heavily upon dialogue, with little motivation for stage actions. Director English and his cast have wildly succeeded in keeping this production from being static and interrogative. The tension between the two veteran players is palpable and holds intense interest without unnecessary stage activity. The novelistic approach is barely noticeable because these two characters are decidedly at each others’ throats every moment, although with differing methods of attack. Charles Dean as the liberal professor is ultimately unable to counter the religious arguments of the ex-con black guy who saved him. To Carl Lumbly the black, the prof went far astray of the teachings of Jesus, as personified in a rumpled Bible on the table in his single-room-occupancy welfare hotel room. Carl brought the prof there for intervention after he had tried to jump under The Sunset Limited train as a relief to his anxieties. After being in prison, Carl has found the way to salvation of his soul. He wants to share his vision with Charles. The bloodied Charles Dean just wants Carl to unlock the door so he can leave. But Carl will not until his fire-and-brimstone preaching has been heard. The intellectual prof feels compelled to respond to the black man’s certainty of salvation as found in the Bible. Dean as the prof projects an urgent professional need to educate the somewhat literate savior, but that welfare case has more to teach than the professor, especially when they both admit to the existence of “the trick bag.” English’s staging on a set partially attenuated from the available space keeps the tension between the two men focused and intense. Lumbly tries to hammer home the necessity for belief to the progressive atheist Dean. His arguments are convincing to Dean, who is able to accept the logic and truths of the sermons, yet still appear unfazed. Dean as an actor can present inner turmoil while keeping a believable outward presence of denial. Lumbly with his persistent rage and references to his hopeless rescue of the prof from “the hope of nothingness” presents a fully dimensional character who Believes, no matter what. In the end he lets the prof go to try again tomorrow to end it all. But Lumbly will be there. The male bonding in McCarthy’s story is strong and poignant, regardless of the differences in socio-economic status and intellectual achievement. The love Lumbly wants to give is callously rejected by Dean’s character, on the surface. The two form a relationship. With all of Dean’s angst, and with all of Lumbly’s belief in salvation, they reach a tacit agreement: you don’t jump under the train, and I will be there to save you anyway. English’s direction, and the fine acting talents of Dean and Lumbly make this printed-page dialogue into a tense ninety-minute confrontation. The intellectual elements of the arguments between a fundamentalist Christian and a despairing agnostic are clearly expressed, and then shown to be irrelevant to a suicidal maniac. The use of street lingo while discussing literature creates a divisiveness that the two men seem to conquer and accept, reluctantly. Dean’s resistance to spirituality becomes the crux of the play. In the end he acquiesces. Some might think the black man with his devotion to biblical literalism to be crazier, but even after his drug and prison episodes, he seems more level-headed than the leftist thinker who wants to cast his own body under The Sunset Limited. McCarthy’s use of the word ‘sunset’ speaks volumes about the prof’s alienation. Lumbly’s prized possession in his SRO aptartment, the ruffled Bible, tells of infinite wisdom and hope. This production presents a tense interaction between truth and despair. The Sunset Limited continues through November 6 at San Francisco Playhouse, 533 Sutter Street (between Mason and Powell), San Francisco. Tickets ($40) are available online at http://www.sfplayhouse.org/pages/tickets.php or by email at tickets@sfplayhouse.org and by phone at 415.677.9596.