Buried Child

Welcome to dysfunctional rural Illinois in 1978, where nothing is like it seems and family values crumble as much as the squalid farmhouse in which Buried Child is set. The play, written by acclaimed actor and director Sam Shepard, won a ‘Pulitzer Price For Drama’ in 1979 and put Shepard firmly on the map as a respected playwright.

Ovation have boldly decided to make a little detour from their usually more musical- and comedy orientated offerings by staging Buried Child for the London fringe. It proved to be a clever decision, for not only have they chosen a challenging piece of work, but the direction by Timothy Trimingham Lee, the compelling performances by the cast as well as the effective set design by Martin Thomas make this an accomplished piece of teamwork.

Shepard’s play is absurdist comedy and surreal drama in equal measures, although economically speaking it had without doubt more impact back in the 70s. Buried Child deals with pretty much everything that shakes the American dream by its very foundations, from the collapse of family values to the collapse of the rural economy. Alcoholism, murder, incest, religious hypocrisy, affairs, physical and psychological immobility – there is enough playground to inspire a hundred David Lynch movies!

Central character and patriarch Dodge (John Atterbury) is an alcoholic and depended on other people’s help, he spends his days slumped on the sofa, bickering with his wife Halie (Eileen Nicholas) and craving the next bottle of whiskey. On the outside, Halie is a pillar of morality but a dark secret she carries with her has tarnished family relations for years. She worships her dead son Ansel, onto whom she projects all the ambitions and dreams her two living sons Tilden (Math Sams) and Bradley (Jed Aukin) have failed to succeed. While Tilden is psychologically disturbed, Bradley is physically handicapped – therefore both sons are unable to look after their ageing parents as well as the crumbling farm and failed crops.
One day, Tilden’s son Vince (Joe Jameson) returns to the farm with sassy girlfriend Shelly (Tala Gouveia) in tow. He reclaims possession of the house but is not recognised by anyone upon his arrival. Shelly – at first disgusted by Vince’s family – is determined to find out more about the family relation and the dark secret that has cast a shadow over everyone.

While this may sound heavy (and it is), the script contains enough parody and pitch-black humour to make this a merry course through the wilderness of the soul. The performances are terrific throughout (in particular John Atterbury and Eileen Nicholas, who says that she watched Wim Wender’s Paris, Texas to get to the structure of the play). Math Sams reveals that he wasn’t familiar with the play before he accepted the part, but felt drawn to it because it’s a real challenge for any actor. Admittedly, some of the cast succeed more in displaying that distinctive Midwest drawl than others, but all in all the production, produced by Racky Plews, is a success. Comic relief is also provided by John Conroy as Father Dewis, who plays his part funny yet disturbing at the same time.

“There’s no place like home” says Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz. There’s certainly no home like this one, where traditions and values are as twisted as a barn roof in a hurricane.