The Minutes
Danny McCarthy and Noah Reid in The Minutes.
Published May 12, 2022
Appearances can be deceiving, none so much as the set of The Minutes, a new play by Tracy Letts at Studio 54. The nondescript municipal building that hosts this 90-minute horror show is dull and shabby, featuring a slightly worn table, generic office chairs and watermarks staining the ceiling and walls.
All might appear fine and well, but damage lurks beneath the surface of this room and the group of people who soon assemble, which could very well cause its foundation to crack and break.
To those unfamiliar with Letts’ body of work, the opening moments of this Steppenwolf Theater production, directed by Anna D. Shapiro, could inspire the fear they have signed up for an evening of boring bureaucracy as a cast of nine gathers to hold a City Council meeting for the suburban town of Big Cherry.
It’s obvious from the moment Mr. Peel enters the room that something is wrong. Peel, in a solidly pleasant performance by Noah Reed, was absent from the previous meeting and the affable newcomer is eager to catch up on the agenda. His questions are repeatedly brushed off and he quickly senses something is amiss, especially after learning the 10th council member, Mr. Carp, has been dismissed from the Board. No one – including the pompous Mayor Superba, played by Letts – will offer an explanation, and the council refuses to distribute the minutes from that meeting, claiming the document is not ready yet.
Peel persists in his questioning, and the truth – or at least, the minutes’ recording of it – is soon read. And it’s worse than the dentist and new father could imagine. It’s a terrible realization, but certain moments of sly comedy are found due to this stellar ensemble’s seamless work.
The council consists of archetypes familiar to anyone who has served on a committee. There’s the distracted, childlike Ms. Matz (Sally Murphy), the smug, golf-loving Mr. Breeding (Cliff Chamberlain), the self-centered Ms. Innes (Blair Brown), the appropriately named Mr. Assalone (Jeff Still), the elderly and addled Mr. Oldfield (Austin Pendleton, truly excellent) and Mr. Blake, the only Black member of the council (K. Todd Freeman). Recording the meeting is Ms. Johnson, played by Jessie Mueller, who, in a subtle jab, deliberately mispronounces Mr. Assalone’s name at every mention.
Everyone has arrived armed with their own personal agendas, which include possession of a parking space and whether a “Lincoln Smackdown” cage match should be featured at the town’s annual heritage festival. Even as the group argues over the finances of erecting a new fountain in the town square, it is obvious that something darker is at play as Brian MacDevitt’s lighting and André Pluess’ sound heighten the sinister atmosphere that lurks on David Zinn’s set.
The absent Mr. Carp is played by Ian Barford, appearing in a flashback that explains his absence and removal from the Board. The horrifying revelation, which is tied to the town’s past of racism and violence toward Native Americans, has been erased from the local history by a group of people that is almost entirely white.
Letts’ attempts to probe this subject feels ripped from the headlines of local council meetings in hysterics over perceived threats of critical race theory. It’s impossible to watch The Minutes without thinking of town hall meetings riddled with hysterics over masking mandates and vaccination requirements or Florida’s recent banning of math books over accusations of critical race theory in the lessons.
But The Minutes only skims the surface of this meaning before a last-minute twist tears the play from realism into something almost unthinkable. One wishes the play went deeper, and its cast was more diverse. It would be even more horrifying but undoubtedly more effective.