In a masterful stroke of programming, Steppenwolf Theatre Company presents the Chicago premiere of "The Book of Grace," Suzan-Lori Parks' incendiary companion piece to her Pulitzer Prize-winning "Topdog/Underdog." Director Steve H. Broadnax III has crafted a searing production that peels back the layers of American family dysfunction with surgical precision.
Set in a small Texas border town, the play centers on an explosive triangle: Grace, played with luminous warmth by Zainab Jah, a waitress who fills her notebook with life's quiet moments of beauty, collecting them like precious stones to ward off darker thoughts.; her husband Vet (Brian Marable), a soon-to-be-honored border patrol agent, maintains order with an iron grip that hints at something more dangerous beneath the surface, and Vet's estranged son Buddy (ensemble member Namir Smallwood), whose arrival ignites a powder keg of long-suppressed trauma.
Parks, who won a Pulitzer for "Topdog/Underdog," has crafted something remarkable here - a play that feels both intimately personal and sweepingly political. She uses this family's dysfunction as a lens to examine larger American wounds: the violence we inherit, the borders we create, the ways we fail to protect what we claim to love.
Zainab Jah, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a young Cicely Tyson, delivers a tour de force performance as Grace. Her portrayal is pure magic embodied, infusing the character with an effervescent optimism that makes her eventual disillusionment all the more devastating. As the rigid patriarch Vet, Brian Marable brings a chilling authority to the role, while Namir Smallwood's Buddy simmers with contained rage, his every gesture a loaded gun waiting to go off.
Parks' script continues her exploration of fractured American identity and familial bonds. Where "Topdog" examined the relationship between brothers through the lens of historical reenactment, "Grace" turns its gaze to the combustible dynamics between fathers and sons, set against the backdrop of America's ongoing border crisis.
The circular stage becomes a cage in Broadnax III's hands. With audience members boxing in the action from all sides, the performers have nowhere to hide – much like the fractured family they portray. It's claustrophobic and intense, exactly as it should be. As the drama unfolds in Steppenwolf's intimate arena, you can feel the tension building like a pot about to boil over. The production strips away theatrical artifice to expose the raw nerves of a family—and by extension, a nation—at war with itself.
What emerges is a gothic horror story dressed in kitchen-sink realism, where the monsters aren't supernatural beings but the ghosts of American history itself: racism, violence, and the cyclical nature of trauma. Parks continues to prove herself one of American theater's most vital voices, crafting work that refuses easy answers while demanding we confront our most uncomfortable truths.
"The Book of Grace" may be a companion to "Topdog/Underdog," but it stands as its own testament to Parks' genius—a play that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go until its devastating final moments. In the hands of this exceptional ensemble, it's not just theater; it's an exorcism of American demons that feels more relevant now than ever.
Some plays entertain. Others leave scars. Suzan-Lori Parks' "The Book of Grace" belongs firmly in the second category, delivering a gut-punch of a production that lingers long after the house lights come up.
Highly Recommended
When: Through May 18
Where: Steppenwolf Theatre 1650 N. Halsted
Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes
Tickets: $20 - $110 ($15.00 student tickets)
www.steppenwolf.org/tickets--events/
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