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

Frequently during post-show discussions the character name Mr. Lockhart is brought up. It is a name that suggests a connotation – lock-heart. That connotation further resonates with death (a locked or non-functioning heart) as well as a heart that has ceased to love or is incapable of loving.

This name is particularly apt since Mr. Lockhart is the devil incarnate – his heart, once full of love for God as the Archangel Lucifer, has now been locked. He has fallen from heaven, or rather been cast out, as a result of sinful pride. He resents deeply God’s love of mortals because he once knew it himself.

Mr. Lockhart is also deeply disturbed by music. It seems to painfully grate on him when a Christmas CD is played. He recalls the music of heaven in a description to Sharky: (more…)

When you’re working on a role, sometimes you begin to take on traits and habits of the character you’re playing. At least that’s the excuse I’m going to use to explain why I’m a lousy card player. (Recent acquaintances may also claim this could be the reason why I’m an obnoxious social boor, but my long-time friends will assure you that I’ve always been that way.) I realize that it takes a certain kind of confidence and an ability to bluff to play poker well. I’m an actor and I hope that I can at least fake those skills, but that’s not the real issue…it’s the numbers. In this play, anyway.

There is some serious card-playing in The Seafarer, and at one moment, my character Nicky Giblin looks at a hand that one of the guys puts on the table and exclaims “What are the chances?!” Well, let me just put it this way - the chances are really slim. I could get on the Google and find out the exact odds of that particular hand occurring in that situation, but it still wouldn’t help me understand how to apply the numbers in practice. When I was a kid, I always used to think that the odds of anything happening (or not) were always 50/50… either the thing would happen or it wouldn’t. I now clearly understand (sort of) that that’s just not the case. I know that the odds of getting dealt a pair of threes are much better than getting a royal flush, but what are the odds that the other guy has nothing? What are the odds that he has twos? Or what are the odds that I could beat the odds? This is when numbers start to have some kind of enigmatic, arcane value to me. (more…)

The very first stage direction in The Seafarer involves the entrance of Sharky. McPherson writes:

Sharky comes downstairs, pausing to tap the red light under a picture of the Sacred Heart which has gone out. It flickers to life for a second, but goes out again as he descends and surveys the scene.

The Sacred Heart, depicted in a picture on stage, is the religious devotion to Jesus’s physical heart as the representation of his divine love for humanity. It depicts a loving and adoring Jesus and the red light in front of it represents our devotion to the Sacred Heart. It is this that Sharky is struggling with at the beginning of the play. His self-loathing is so deeply felt that he cannot believe he is worthy of being loved, even by the constant and unconditionally forgiving heart of Christ. (more…)

I returned on Monday from London where we had brought a group of Steppenwolf supporters on a London theater tour. On our final day in London, we saw the Sunday matinee performance of August: Osage County at the National Theatre. It was remarkable. The cast was so fluid, so expressive and the play emerged with such clarity and intensity. Their time together has served the production mightily and I was impressed, once again, with the power of ensemble.

I had a similar experience recently when I returned to our production of The Seafarer. I have returned to the production during the course of its run and as time goes by, the ensemble grows tighter and the relationships grow deeper. I hear something new every time I see it because the actors are always subtly shifting in their emphases of character and language. (more…)

In the spirit of continuing a post-show discussion of The Seafarer, one of Steppenwolf’s Auxiliary Council Governors sent me a poem by William Blake entitled The Fly. He explained it had come to mind during the following exchange between Richard, who is blind, and Mr. Lockhart in The Seafarer:

Richard: Lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy would you listen to that wind? God, I had an awful dream the other night. I dreamt I could see. I dreamt that I woke up and I could see and that being blind had been a dream. And I dreamt the sun was shining through the window there, and there, just sitting on the windowsill was a bluebottle looking at me. You ever notice about those things? The whole head is nearly their eyes. Two big black footballs on the whole two sides of their head. And I was just staring at him and he was just staring at me - as much as you can tell if he’s looking at you at all… ‘What does he think of me?’ I was wondering, as we were kind of … communing with each other there. And there was such…comfort, in his blank unseeing regard for me, Mr. Lockhart. You just know that God is in a fly, don’t you? The very existence and the amazing design in something so small and intricate as a bluebottle - it’s God’s revelation really, isn’t it? Don’t you think that?

Lockhart: Well…except that they seem to like the taste of shit so much, don’t they?

Richard: Ah that only adds to their intrigue…

Lockhart: If you say so.

Richard: Well I do! I do say so! And…But then I had the terrible misfortune to wake up and realized I couldn’t see. And I kind of…I kind of panicked. I didn’t know if it was night, or day, or what the hell it was or where I was. And I didn’t want to call out to Sharky, because in case I woke him, his moods do be bad enough! And I…or turn on the radio in case I woke him, but I got my bearings. I was down here and I thought, ‘If I can get a drop of whiskey, the old panic may subside.’ But then of course, I fell in the fucking kitchen door and I made such a clatter that Sharky woke up anyway!

Here is the Blake poem: (more…)