August: Osage County

The Steppenwolf Theatre Company production presented by Sydney Theatre Company and The Sydney Morning Herald

By Tracy Letts / directed by Anna D. Shapiro
Reviewed by Adam Norris

My father is an abalone diver, and on one of my last visits to the family farm we decided to take the sharkcat out to fish off the coast between Tathra and Bermagui. A few friends came along for the excursion and we whiled away several pleasant hours in the sun, catching more fish than was really reasonable (it was as though several schools were jostling for top position immediately beneath us). But just as the sun was beginning to set and we were preparing to call it a day, one of my friends hooked something huge. He didn’t hold it for long; ten seconds of strain and then a sudden limp line. My other friend had spotted something unidentifiable earlier in the day, something that broke the surface of the water briefly and was gone. A dolphin, perhaps, or a penguin, there were certainly plenty of them around. Within moments I had hooked another fish, and was reeling it in when all at once the line was almost jerked out of my hands. I was able to wrestle with it for a while, trying to keep enough slack to lure it to the surface and at least catch a glimpse of what it was, but to no avail. With a final painful jerk the line fell still, and when I reeled it back we found it had been chewed through.



The “Thing From the Deep” is a staple of genre fiction. Hell, Peter Benchley was able to sustain an entire career on the notion, and he is by no means unique. There is an endless fascination with the unknown tenants of the sea, and enough poetic metaphor to satisfy even the most hyperbolic of romantics. But despite how pretty the sun setting over the water might be, the things that are dragged from the ocean tend to be grotesque, as alien as we can fathom. The further down you go, the worse it gets. Anglerfish, goblin sharks, gulper eels, vampire squids (yes, I shit you not – vampire squids). Things that are best left drowned in the dark.

The majority of characters in August: Osage County live their lives beneath the surface, in words and deeds hidden from plain sight. There is madness, grief, incest, adultery, death and isolation - all the things a happy family thrives on. But then, after seeing Bug at the Stables Theatre earlier this year I was anticipating such despairing themes from Tracy Letts and certainly didn’t leave disappointed. Yet despite how thoroughly I enjoyed this play I hesitate listing it as one of the productions of the year. It ticked every box by which I would judge great theatre, and received a standing ovation the likes of which I haven’t seen since … well, nothing really springs to mind. I think perhaps because it was so lauded, so sure-fire a hit that I could never really be surprised or dazzled. Even the plot points of August aren’t really all that astonishing when you study them in the cold light of day; it’s the sheer strength of the cast that makes them so compelling.

Beverly Weston, patriarch of the family and acclaimed poet, has disappeared. His wife Violet (played magnificently by Deanna Dunagan, in the role that scored her a Tony Award for Best Actress) assumes control with a shaky iron fist as the extended family reluctantly descends on the sprawling Oklahoma house. Perhaps chief amongst the new arrivals is eldest daughter Barbara (played with brutal, bitter force by Amy Morton), a woman whose marriage has disintegrated and who finds herself desperately trying to maintain the image that all is well. Her husband (Jeff Perry) plans to leave her for a younger woman, her fourteen year old daughter is more distant by the day, and she is gradually succumbing to the acerbic nature of her drug-addicted mother. Her siblings, Ivy (Sally Murphy, who did a remarkable job of portraying real frustration at her family’s inability to take her aspirations seriously) and Karen (Mariann Mayberry, the most inconsistent of an otherwise spectacular cast) have significant troubles of their own, and as the play progresses these troubles will come to bear irrevocable consequences. Acting as outsider to these familial woes, and as an onstage guide or proxy for the audience, is Johanna (Kimberly Guerrero), the Native American hired help. Guerrero did the most with a character who really serves as little more than a weak symbolic counterpoint to the ragged, spiteful pride of the Weston clan. We soon learn that Beverly has in fact drowned himself, and with that the symbolic allusions start coming thick and fast.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a sharp play and the writing is astounding. Tracy Letts has produced something marvelous here, though at times it can suffer from being too clever for its own good. Television and literary allusions are everywhere, and by the end of the play the references to T.S. Eliot’s 'The Wasteland' are nothing short of heavy-handed (I would go so far as to say they actually spoil the ending). But these issues aside it is an amazing experience to behold that old chestnut of “the dysfunctional family coping under strain” done with such care and such skill. From start to finish, August is full of the delicious awkwardness of intruding on somebody else’s private conversation, the dialogue a perfect example of the frustrated speech of families. In fact, I would put it to anyone to see the play and not find at least one of these characters to be an exaggerated version of somebody they know and love dearly. Gary Cole outdoes himself as the epitome of Creepy Uncles; it’s like director Anna Shapiro was somehow able to roll together all of the sleaze and slimy lust that gathers in the corners of cheap nightclubs and fashion a person from it. But it is Deanna Dunagan who is the true delight - the kind of staggering, jaded Southern Belle you expect to find poisoning her family’s breakfast one morning. There are few examples I’ve seen where monologues addressed to the air have been so spellbinding, and in the play’s pivotal scene where the cast are gathered around the dining room table Dunagan is a force to behold.

Each actor brings such deep cynicism to their part, and such sarcasm to their roles as family members, that the audience was enraptured. You would slide August into the Contemporary Tragic slot on your bookshelf, sure, but this is also a hilarious play. And as disturbing as some of the revelations August offers are, the way the characters respond to them are wonderfully, uncomfortably familiar. I feel like I’m letting down the entire writing profession by falling back on such stock phrases, and yet, these were characters who truly came alive for me. Each personality seems unique, each actor blundering across the stage as though they had grown up in this curious house (which really isn’t altogether surprising given that some of the cast have been touring with this production for three years now).

We shift through so many tones in so short a time – shock, humour, violence, fractured love – that by the time you leave the theatre you’ll feel exhausted. I can’t recommend it highly enough … which is really just perpetuating the crowning flaw to my night watching August. I have seen so many lesser-budget, unconventional narratives this year on stage that I feel praising Lett’s so highly is to play it safe. I mean, this is Big Theatre with Big Themes - the set alone is awe-inspiring; a three-storey house spliced in half for the audience to peer inside, like a dollhouse for negligent giants - so chances are you’re going to be moved at least slightly. And though it is quite brilliant, I feel its renown coming between me and the thing itself. See it; enjoy it; then really step back and think about it. One thing is for certain – there are certainly very few plays performed today that are of August: Osage County’s standard. And, like every Sydney Theatre Company production, it has the added benefit of being a running-dive away from the lights of the harbour. If you really don’t enjoy it, you can always pull a Beverly Weston and swim for the sunrise. My theatre buddy that night (who is not Oscar Acosta, but should be) and I had earlier sat in the dark of the wharf, looking across the bay and the myriad cautious-coloured lights towards Blues Point Tower, pondering how deep those waters ran. I suppose the answer is – how deep do you need them?


Cast - Gary Cole, Deanna Dunagan, Kimberly Guerrero, Mariann Mayberry, Amy Morton, Sally Murphy, Paul Vincent O'Connor, Jeff Perry, Molly Ranson, Rondi Reed, Chelcie Ross, Troy West, Gary Wilmes
Director - Anna D. Shapiro
Set Designer - Todd Rosenthal
Costume Designer - Ana Kuzmanic
Lighting Designer - Ann G. Wrightson
Sound Designer - Richard Woodbury
Composer - David Singer
Fight Choreographer - Chuck Coyl