Owen Wister’s 1902 novel The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains has been adapted for the stage at least once (by Wister himself along with a co-adaptor) and has had five screen adaptations, not including the television series based on it. This leads to the question of why it is necessary to adapt this seminal Western novel once again for the stage. According to director Terry McCabe, “The value of any national myth lies in its availability to everyone.” The diverse cast certainly seems to enjoy the opportunity to bring the well-worn trappings of the myth of the American West to life, and, hey, who wouldn’t? Wister’s novel is considered the first to introduce the Wild West to the American mainstream, with its black hat/white hat dichotomy, rough justice and rugged individualism. With prose capturing the unspoiled glory of Wyoming, both the novel and this new adaptation by L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Huffman evoke a time and place that exist only in the imagination, but nevertheless have shaped the “American Character.” Is it valuable to return to those dusty streets? This production does not make that case. Is it fun? Most certainly, especially in this tightly written adaptation, under the inventive direction of McCabe, with a creative and committed cast and design team.

L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Hufffman have done an excellent job of adapting Wister’s 400+-page novel into a stage version that clocks in at just over two hours, including the intermission. The play hews closely to the plot of the original, though the novel’s narrator has been eschewed with his elegiac praise of the Virginian and the Wyoming landscape assigned to other characters. In making the myth available to everyone, the playwrights have also made a few changes; for example, Steve calls The Virginian “Whiskey” instead of “Jeff” (for Jefferson Davis, which would be discordant in this production) to honor his Southern roots. The dialogue, much of it lifted from the novel, is remarkably fresh and entertaining, though the playwrights have used the time constraints and desire to preserve elements of the novel’s descriptive prose as an excuse to give proportionally more stage time to the female characters, which also allows for a more critical gaze at the mythological Western version of masculinity. There are also nods to the economic disparities between owners and employees, and the hardships faced by small-scale ranchers, as well as the nascent Women’s Suffrage Movement. Despite these changes, Bernadine and Huffman’s adaptation is a faithful rendering of the American classic.

Director Terry McCabe has more practice than anyone in dealing with the constraints of the tiny City Lit Theater space, and it shows in his ability to effectively shoehorn a sprawling Western into its confines without sacrificing the sprawl. First and foremost, McCabe embraces the fact that this is a stage adaptation, and his production deploys a wide range of theatrical devices with aplomb. He also embraces the sepia-toned nostalgia for an America that never was. The cowboys look cool in their jeans and gun belts, the ladies elegant in their high-waisted skirts. The costumes by LaVisa Williams perfectly capture this Western fantasy world. Resident set designer Ray Toler has created a set that bends and folds and pops out into various locations, with the Great Plains represented by beautiful rolling fabric drops. Though smoothly executed by the cast, the scene changes are helped along by composer/cellist Kellee Vandervall’s score, which emulates and incorporates American folk music (and Wister’s own compositions). Liz Cooper’s lighting design helps recreate the sundrenched colors of the Plains and focus the action. Steven Widerman of the Puppet Company designed the expressive horses, which are integral to the action.

The large ensemble cast is uniformly strong, smoothly moving from location to location, transforming the set as they go. The well-choreographed scene changes never break the momentum of the performances. Robert Hunter Bry brings a quiet, intelligent charm to the Virginian, convincingly filling the shoes of ranch foreman and architect of change in the West. As his love interest Molly Wood, the schoolmarm from Vermont, Liz Falstreau embodies the well-mannered rebelliousness of her role, and makes a solid case for reexamining the traditions of Western vigilantism. Ben Auxier brings enough dimension to the antagonist role of Trampas to almost garner sympathy—and enough to make some good points about the inequities of the democracy of the Wild West—but fortunately comes up short on this front to create a compelling villain. David Fink’s performance as animal-loving, gullible Shorty is affecting as he maintains his heart through adversity. Aaron Sarka is an affable, winningly impetuous Steve. Varris Holmes is charismatic and grounded as Judge Taylor, while bringing the necessary gravitas to the role. As Mrs. Taylor, Andie Dae brings just a touch of aristocracy to her strong-willed character. Tom Lally is imperious as the cruel ranch owner Balaam. Rounding out the cast of cowpokes are DC Cathro, Tyler DeLoatch, Tony DiPisa, and Huy Nguyen; each creates a distinct character that goes beyond the archetypes they are portraying to breathe life into the sometimes cliched dialogue. Likewise, as Molly’s relatives back home, Hilary Hensler and marssie Mencotti fully realize the characters behind their Vermont attitudes. Adele Watel brings spirit to both her Young Bride and sharp-tongued barmaid Krista. The horses could not horse without horse without the talented puppeteers who animate them: Linsey Falls, Sarah Franzel, Adele Watel and David Wiesenhahn, who allow the animals to not only move but express emotion. The horses are also given life by their “riders,” who each give them a distinct gait. 

The trend in Westerns these days is to go beyond the mythologizing to the harsh brutality that inspired it. This production does the opposite, though it does open the door to a more inclusive portrayal of the myth. The dialogue pays lip service to condemning extra-judicial killing, vendettas settled by showdowns at sundown, and unbridled masculinity, but the adaptation does not veer far enough from its source to make a serious stab at an alternate morality. The Virginian unabashedly celebrates the men who won the West with horses and six-shooters and opened the land to those who would come after with railroads and coal shovels. Terry McCabe’s City Lit Theater production of Owen Wister’s The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains, as adapted by L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Huffman, is an enjoyable, fast-paced, inoffensive step back into a time that never really was, but that inspired generations, now made available to everyone.

The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains runs through February 20 at City Lit Theater at 1020 W. Bryn Mawr Avenue, on the second floor of the historic Edgewater Presbyterian Church. Performances take place Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 and Sundays at 3:00, as well as Mondays February 7 and 14 at 7:30. Tickets are $34, seniors $29, and students and military $12. Information about the run, including COVID policies and transportation, are available at www.citylit.org or by phone at 773-293-3682.