Samuel Brett Williams’ Derby Day makes for a winning day at the races
By Dough Strassler
Derby Day covers much the same ground popularized by Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County: adults behaving badly and tossing out family secrets with the aim of a javelin thrower. It’s not an entirely polished work, though talented playwright Samuel Brett Williams has mercifully truncated the formula by both running time and family size. And thanks to both his savvy and an extremely capable cast, what could have felt like a lazy retread of familiar terrain actually plays as a welcome voyage to undiscovered country.
Jake Silbermann (kneeling), Jared Culverhouse and Malcolm Madera in Derby Day. Photo by Paul Gagnon.
It’s a wittily subversive country at that. Williams tucks Derby squarely in the middle-ground between low comedy and high drama, which means that although they’ve just lost their late father, the three Ballard brothers—the oldest, Frank (Jared Culverhouse), middle child Ned (Malcolm Madera) and Johnny, the youngest (Jake Silbermann)—don’t use laughter-through-tears to deal with their grief. What good is sobbing alone in your room when you can yell at your siblings in the luxury box of a racetrack?
Which is exactly how the Ballards have chosen to honor their father. Merely an hour after burying him, the three have holed up at the Oaklawn races in Hot Springs, Ark., (Williams hails from The Natural State himself) to win big and gorge themselves on cheap concessions and alcohol. There’s something both shocking and shockingly familiar as Frank, Ned and Johnny start revealing their true selves. None of these guys are saints, but Williams keeps testing audience loyalty to the individual brothers with each new revelation and unsavory act (what’s worse: causing one’s brother to fall off the wagon or admitting that you’ve slept with one of their past wives? You’ll find both, and worse, afoot here). It’s hard to tell if any of these guys could be saved. Or should. But the more reason we have to hate them, the more we want to see of them.
Yep, Derby riffs on the formulaic here, but we believe these guys, even if we don’t believe in them, which is a testament to the realism of Williams’ play and of director Michole Biancosino’s direction. Most especially, it’s a credit to the show’s trio of actors, who shade in their respective characters’ insecurities and crude behavior with total commitment. They bring a vibrant energy to the show that makes it compelling, even when its later moments feel somewhat forced. Culverhouse digs deep to reflect Frank’s inner demons, and Madera shines a light on what a mess Ned is beneath his cocky charisma. Watching these actors shine does cause one to wish Williams’ play wasn’t quite so slim, just to give them more to chew on. But then the endurance test that is Derby might be too much to handle. As it is, the three actors are all up to the physical demands of the show, whether it be their carefully modulated states of inebriation or Alberto Bonilla’s flinchingly realistic fight choreography (Silbermann delivers and receives several hits so convincingly I was about to ask if a doctor was in the house).
Several other characters matter, as well. In corporeal form, there’s Beth Wittig, who grants Becky, the Ballards’ increasingly put-upon box waitress, plenty of credibility. And in less animate form, there’s Alfred Schatz’s sturdy set, which gets pummeled almost as much the men-children of Derby themselves do.
Derby Day
Through Dec. 17, Clurman Theatre, 410 W. 42nd St. (betw. 9th & 10th Aves.), www.telecharge.com; $18.
