From left: Genesis Oliver, Joe Tapper and Finnerty Steeves star in the drama The White Chip.
Dramas about alcoholism are usually dour and lugubrious, like the films Days of Wine and Roses or The Lost Weekend. It’s a surprise, therefore, to find playwright Sean Daniels has taken a leaf from Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In—quick cuts, actors switching roles expeditiously with the help of a costume elementa, wry humor—to deliver what turns out to be, in the end, a story that can’t escape the sadness and seriousness of the ruin alcoholism can wreak. In spite of the grim proceedings, the journey feels different and fresh.
In Daniels’s three-actor work, the main character, Steven McAllister, narrates, covering the highlights of his life in quick jabs, from his first beer as a Mormon teenager, to the darker struggles in his future. He is helped by Leon Rothenberg’s sound design, which punches up the quick-change comic elements. It’s a tour de force performance for an actor, and Joe Tapper is adept in the part, navigating from the hail-fellow-well-met character in the early stages of the disease to the self-loathing drunk at a suicidal moment. He is helped along by two other actors acting as a chorus or taking other individualized parts.
Oliver and Tapper use hats as a disguise to sneak onto a golf course.
Steven is no Skid Row wino, but a young man with privilege and possibilities. His early years poke fun at Mormonism and a special Mormon summer camp:
A “reboot camp” … If you are troublesome, fat, a little (or a lot) gay—this is the place you can turn it all around. … As campers we’re forced to visualize awful things until we break down and cry. Then we’re told to think about how Jesus can make it better. And we stage a musical at the end…. The vast majority of the kids here, sent because they were gay, being forced to change that through the power of…musical theater.
Steven attends college, studies acting and eventually becomes the artistic director of a company in Kentucky. The charm that Tapper exhibits imbues his character with sympathy as Steven capitalizes on his charisma to wring forgiveness for his mistakes from those in power. From his initial beer he moves to bourbon, abandoning Mormonism’s teachings and lying to his parents along the way. He has car crashes, DUI incidents and other indicators, but he manages to escape unscathed for a long time—once because he is a recognizable celebrity in the arts community. It is a vicious cycle: his alcoholism helps him seem charming, and his charm helps him escape the mistakes that his alcoholism is responsible for.
Oliver and Tapper as, respectively, boss and employee. Photographs by Carol Rosegg.
His father (Genesis Oliver) faces an onset of Parkinson’s disease, but Steven ignores repeated requests, and then pleas, for him to spend some time back home. Even so, his father remains proud and yet deeply disappointed at the distance between them.
Steven has a more volatile relationship with his mother (Finnerty Steeves, who plays all the female roles). She’s happy to say “F--- you” to him when they have a spat, and early on she leaves the church because of its attitude toward women.
Ultimately his problems are noticed. He has a litany of excuses about his behavior:
I had forgotten to eat dinner.
I wasn’t the drunkest one there.
Sorry I got a little wild at brunch. Daylight savings time does that to me.
I can’t come to work today. Have to take my cat to the vet….
Oh, you’re probably just smelling hand sanitizer, I just put that on.…
Sorry, my Grandma died.
Think I had an adverse reaction to some new medication I’m taking.
Ultimately, however, Steven attends an AA meeting, and receives a white chip, for anyone who has a desire to stop drinking. “I’m now certified about being aware of alcohol,” he announces, but it’s not the end of his journey. As Daniels’s play turns darker and Steven repeatedly backslides, Tapper pulls the audience along with each setback. Steven becomes an engaging and sympathetic guide to his own disease, and that The White Chip ultimately overcomes its familiar subject matter and is a tribute to the performers. Oliver is particularly good as Steven’s father and as a gung ho Christian mentor, a comic part he seizes with relish. Steeves is solid in various roles—mother, wife, best friend—even if they have a certain sameness. All three actors, and the unusual treatment of alcoholism, make The White Chip a heartfelt theatrical exploration of a disease that never seems to go away.
The Arizona Theatre Company production of The White Chip runs through Oct. 26 at 59E59 Theaters (59 E. 59th St. between Park and Madison). Evening performances are at Tuesday through Saturday at 7:15 p.m.; matinees are at 2:15 Saturday and Sunday. For information and tickets, call the box office at (646) 892-7999 or visit 59e59.org.
