The Minutes starts out like a conventional play. An idealistic young city councilman is newly elected to an established governing body of veteran politicians and soon grows suspicious about what went on in the last meeting, which he missed because of his mother’s death. He asks to see the minutes but is told they aren’t ready yet. When he won’t let go of his quest, the dark side of this town and its officials is revealed in this Steppenwolf Theatre Company production at Studio 54.
At first it’s a story we’ve heard many times before but since this one happens to be written by Tracy Letts we know going in that’s it’s unlikely to be a naturalistic play. One can expect weird, creepy and, in this case, macabre things to happen. To be fair, I should say I don’t like this in any form, be it in novels, movies or plays. The Minutes was a record-breaking hit when Steppenwolf produced it at home in Chicago.
The 90-minute work, directed by Anna D. Shapiro, starts out like a straightforward comedy. Mr. Peel (Noah Reid, right in photo) is a stock character, young and full of enthusiasm, saying he felt called to make a difference in public service after the birth of his baby girl, whose picture he proudly shows on his phone. He chatters on and on before the meeting, even though no one is listening. When he’s asked to give the opening reflection, he drones on so long the other council members start shifting from foot to foot with impatience.
This lighthearted comedy continues as Mr. Hanratty (Danny McCarthy) introduces a bill to construct a ramp to the town’s fountain so the disabled, which include his sister, can have access. Mr. Oldfield (Austin Pendleton), who has been on the council for 36 years, sidetracks the presentation and exasperates Mr. Hanratty with questions about why people enjoy throwing coins in the fountain, what happens to those coins and why would anyone want to see the bottom of the fountain anyway. Pro that he is, Pendleton keeps the exchange from coming off as too sitcom-ish. (Among the other cast members are Blair Brown and Jessie Mueller).
Throughout all of this Mr. Peel has continued to press for the minutes and to find out why one council member is missing. Mayor Superba (Letts, left in photo), who chairs the meeting, becomes increasingly annoyed and continues to decline to provide any adequate answers.
Tension grows and so does our discomfort as the town’s disturbing history is disclosed bit by bit. I’m not being a spoiler to say that in one scene the members playact a 1892 town battle, running around the room and throwing themselves on the floor in their zeal for portraying how their ancestors rescued a local white girl from Native Americans, whom they refer to as savages. They do this for Mr. Peel’s sake because he didn’t grow up there, but they are also uncovering the racist history behind their myths and pride.
By the final scene, though, I was completely baffled. The council members form a semicircle around Mr. Peel. Mayor Superba brings out a bowl and passes it around and the others dip in their hands to smear what looks like blood on their foreheads. He then extends it to Mr. Peel before the lights go out. Had the council members devolved into ritual sacrifice or an eerie initiation right?
While I might have been confused by the ending, the set, by David Zinn, made me feel right at home. As a former government reporter for daily newspapers I sat in rooms that looked just like that — long tables filled with piles of paper and water glasses, an American flag and state flag at the back and a vaulted ceiling. Sitting in the audience before the show started I was filled with good memories of my years as a hard news beat reporter. Those were happy days. Too bad I couldn’t zap back in time to cover one of those meetings for old time’s sake. I would have been much more in my element.
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