KYLE WATKINS PHOTOGRAPHY
Steven St. Pierre, left, and Jude Kilumbu co-star in “Topdog/Underdog” at The Vanguard Theater in Montclair.
As “Topdog/Underdog” begins, in its current production at The Vanguard Theater in Montclair, we hear an excerpt from the Gil Scott-Heron song, “Home Is Where the Hatred Is.” That title rings true, in the world that Suzan-Lori Parks has created in her Pulitzer Prize-winning 2001 play.
Circumstances have forced the play’s two characters — Lincoln (nicknamed Link) and his younger brother Booth, whose birth names amount to a sick joke pulled on them by their parents — to live together. And while they love each other — home is also where the heart is, after all — they butt heads, with ultimately tragic results.
When “Topdog/Underdog” was presented by The Passage Theatre Company in Trenton, in February and March of this year, it became the first Broadway play produced by Passage, in its 40-year history. Similarly, this is very different from the fare that Vanguard Theater usually presents. I have seen most of Vanguard’s main stage productions since it opened its doors in Montclair, about four years ago, and this is by far the darkest and most dire work I have encountered there.
KYLE WATKINS PHOTOGRAPHY
Steven St. Pierre in “Topdog/Underdog.”
On the other hand, it is not surprising that Passage and Vanguard have taken it on. There is an urgency to Parks’ writing that makes this play irresistible, especially at a time when the American Dream that Link and Booth find so tantalizing — and so cruelly out of reach — seems to be fading away, more and more, daily. (In 2023, the 20th anniversary Broadway production of “Topdog/Underdog” won the Tony for Best Revival of a Play.)
marcus d. harvey, who directed in Trenton, does so again here, and Steven St. Pierre, who played the world-weary, even-tempered Link in Trenton, is back in the role, with Jude Kilumbu as the jittery, less sophisticated Booth. Both actors are utterly convincing in their roles.
In the program, the play’s setting and time are defined only as “Here” and “Now.” The set, by Rodrigo Escalante, is a run-down one-room apartment, with little else beyond the bed where Booth sleeps (with a heap of junk underneath it) and the reclining chair where Link sleeps. Above Booth’s bed, there is a hole in the wall, and you can see uneven, unsturdy-looking planks of wood behind it. A part of the building’s exterior is visible; on it, someone has scrawled, “We Will Get By.”
There is no running water in the apartment, we are told. In regard to sustenance, the two seem to be living mainly on Chinese take-out food and alcohol.
It is Booth’s apartment, but Link is staying there because his wife, Cookie threw him out. Booth is an accomplished shoplifter, but has no other apparent means of support, so the small amount of money Link brings in, through his job, really helps out. In a surreal bit of symbolism, Link’s job is playing Abraham Lincoln in an arcade booth, wearing whiteface and a top hat. The customers get to shoot him with a cap gun, and he has to pretend to die — over and over again.
It is a humiliating, depressing job. But it is a job — for the time being, at least. Link suspects that one day he will be replaced by a more cost-effective wax dummy.
KYLE WATKINS PHOTOGRAPHY
Jude Kilumbu, left, with Steven St. Pierre in “Topdog/Underdog.”
Link used to make a better living conning tourists with the street card game, three-card monte. He gave it up, though, after his friend and partner in the con, Lonny, died. “Somebody shot him,” says Link. “They don’t know who. Nobody knows, nobody cares.”
Booth wants Link to return to three-card-monte, with he himself taking Lonny’s place. But Link, understandably, wants no part of it. Booth is insistent, though, and spends a lot of time perfecting his craft — the hypnotic patter, the sleight of hand, the surreptitious identification of a potential “mark.” A three-card monte dealer is a performer, above all else, and has to have his lines and his moves down perfectly.
These characters have hit dead ends in many aspects of their lives. Booth’s significant other Grace, for instance, is fed up with him, just like Cookie is with Link, but Booth tells Link that they are in the process of reconciling. “She’s in love with me again, but she don’t know it yet,” Booth says. He keeps on trying to convince Link that everything is going great, but we come to suspect that this is just a fantasy. Or another kind of con.
As Link and Booth talk, we learn about their past. Their mother left them when they were 14 and 9, respectively; their father followed suit, two years later.
Booth: Least we was grown when they split.
Link: 16 and 11 ain’t grown.
Booth’s: 16’s grown. Almost. And I was OK ’cause you was there.
He also says he wants Link to return to three-card monte so it can be “you and me against the world” again.
That is about as sentimental as “Topdog/Underdog” gets. One character may be wearing a Tupac Shakur T-shirt in this production. But just surely as if this were an ancient Greek tragedy, these characters have something hanging over their heads. Fate seems to be against them, and Fate will eventually makes its presence known.
The Vanguard Theater in Montclair will present “Topdog/Underdog” through Oct. 26; visit vanguardtheatercompany.org.
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