Amari Cheatom and Elizabeth Marvel in a scene from
The Book of Grace
(Photo credit: Joan Marcus)

The trouble with allegorical dramas is that they also have to work on a realistic level. It is no secret that Pulitzer Prize winner Suzan-Lori Parks’ plays such as Topdog/Underdog, Venus, and The America Play are symbolic statements concerning race relations. Her new play, The Book of Grace, having its world premiere at the Public Theater where many of her plays have debuted, seems to have abandoned the realistic and works only on a symbolic level. As such, the play is a disappointment even with Elizabeth Marvel, a bona-fide Off Broadway star, in one of the three leading roles.

To begin with, the three characters have stock names: Vet, a middle-aged officer on the U.S. Border patrol; his son Buddy, recently discharged from the army; and Grace, Vet’s companion, a waitress. It is never made clear if she and Vet are married or just living together, but it is established early on that she is not Buddy’s mother, who has recently died. The locale is never specified in the text, while Eugene Lee’s set of a living room and kitchen spread over a hill of sand suggests only the American Southwest and the border with Mexico. However, it could be any border.

The characters who address the audience periodically are all emblematic: Vet tells us that “Borders are good. They keep us contained. Borders keep Us on our side and Them on theirs. And that’s a good thing.” Bigotry forms his entire outlook on life. Grace believes that “There’s a lot of good in the world. You just gotta look for it.” Full of grace, she is keeping a journal of “the evidence of good things” which she keeps hidden from Vet who doesn’t trust books. Buddy, who has not been home in 15 years, tells us that his father did unspeakable things to him which he cannot forgive. These things remain unspecified.

The dramatic event of the play which brings Buddy back home after all these years is that his father is about to be given an award. Grace has written to him that he would be welcome home to attend the ceremony. However, we are never told why Buddy has not visited in the last 15 years since he was ten or how he has spent all that time aside from his army stint.

Stranger still, Buddy is black while Vet is a white bigot, but the subject of their racial differences is never mentioned. We are told that Buddy has always been a rebel and knows both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution by heart. In his foot locker, Buddy is hiding army grenades. It is obvious that he has a hidden agenda. There is a hole in the backyard, the size of a grave, which Vet has said he dug as a deterrent, without further explanation.

The hostility between Vet and Buddy is palpable. Is it symbolic? Is Vet a representation of a contemporary “Uncle Sam” and Buddy a victim of America’s years of racism? Is Grace a symbol of those who walk around with blinders on and do not see the evil going on around them? Is the sandy landscape a reminder of America’s occupation force in the Middle East? Parks never fills in these or any of the other gaps. The play ends with a shattering but apocalyptic climax but it takes 100 minutes before we get there. Chapter titles from Grace’s book for various sections of the play are projected on the back scrim, but as these are not in numerical order even this seems to be symbolic.

As the actors are playing symbolic types, it is difficult for them to bring much to their roles. As the tough, threatening Vet, John Doman could be a character out of a B-action flick. Marvel’s continual cheeriness while at the same time living over a volcano wears thin quite soon. Only Amari Cheatom as the angry, resentful son is able to bring any realism to his role as the rejected child attempting to make contact with his father. James Macdonald, who has staged recent New York productions of Caryl Churchill’s A Number, Top Girls, and Drunk Enough to Say I Love You?, keeps things moving along but is unable to bring a sense of verisimilitude to the proceedings as the characters wander around the symbolic landscape.

Costume designer Susan Hilferty isn’t given much to do as Vet wears his uniform throughout, Grace is usually seen in her pink waitress outfit, and Buddy continually wears a white tee shirt and camouflage pants. Jeff Sugg’s projections and video design which include pictures of Vet and Grace’s house and the U.S. border fence add little to the atmosphere, which according to advance press materials, is supposed to be South Texas. The fight direction of Thomas Schall is in evidence just before the end of the play. Jean Kalman’s lighting design occasionally adds a touch of mystery to the overall mood.

Suzan-Lori Parks may be attempting to make a very big statement about the state of America at this juncture in The Book of Grace. The ending suggests a cautionary tale: change your ways before it is too late. Unfortunately, the world premiere production directed by James Macdonald offers great big symbols crashing around on stage. What is needed are the details that would give the play grounding in reality. The hugely talented Elizabeth Marvel is wasted in a role that appears one-dimensional and gives her little to sink her acting teeth into.

The Book of Grace (through April 4)

Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, call 212-967-7555 or http://www.publictheater.org