Steppenwolf Theatre Company Blog – Chicago Theater, World-Class Ensemble

I’ll be traveling this week to see a preview of Bruce Norris‘ The Pain and The Itch at Playwrights Horizons in New York. Steppenwolf premiered this play in our 04-05 season, and as she did with the premiere, our ensemble member Anna Shapiro is directing this production.

In addition, Steppenwolf has recently announced that two of our own productions will be transferring to New York this fall – both The Bluest Eye and Sunset Limited will have limited runs there.

The history of our company is in part benchmarked by these moments – dating as far back as the transfer of True West — a singular event that helped Steppenwolf first come to national attention — through Balm in Gilead (my own first experience with a Steppenwolf production as an adolescent) and the Tony Winners The Grapes of Wrath and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

All of this, coupled with my own roots in that part of the country, made me wonder about Chicago’s relationship to New York. Leaving sports rivalries aside (my lowly Knicks have not been much of a factor recently), do we, despite the remarkable theater on offer in Chicago, still think of ourselves as a “second city?” Is it possible to truly “make it”, (if that is one’s goal) without referencing or moving work to New York? And what about the converse: does success in New York bring an imprimatur that is valued here?

The start of a new season generally creates a feeling of electricity around the office. (Well, not today – the vast majority of our administrative staff has started their Labor Day weekend early, and the overriding sentiment of the seven of us left behind is considerably more low-key.) Even though we’re technically producing 52 weeks a year, there’s something about embarking on a new season that recharges us.

That’s especially the case when a new season begins with a Martin McDonagh play. The Pillowman, which is currently in rehearsals two floors below us, is a play that instantly excited us from the time we were first able to get our hands on a copy of the script, following its world premiere at the National Theatre in London.

For those who have managed to avoid our description of the play so far, The Pillowman is about a writer who lives in a totalitarian state, and who is brought in for police questioning because his stories share some gruesome details with a series of local murders. The act of storytelling is a crucial element of the play, fitting for a playwright whose works are meticulously well-crafted stories.

What The Pillowman explores rather cannily, among other things, is the extent of a writer’s level of responsibility for his or her work, especially within the context of the politically-charged society in which it is written. Obviously, we’re living in a particularly charged time: one political party has grabbed headlines this week by trying to cast their opposition’s stance as potentially treasonous. (Treasonous!)

When it comes to political theatre – and one may argue that all works are political, even if it is only through its conspicuous absence of a political stance – what is it that you look for, that you find useful? What do you think a writer’s responsibility is with respect to political events unfolding around us? How is a writer’s response made most effective?