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Mar. 2--Julia Jordan's droll and original "St. Scarlet," now up at the American Theater Company, is a rare entry in that hitherto moribund theatrical genre known as Minnesota Gothic. Come to think of it, it's probably the only entry. Jordan pretty much invented the whole ice-fishing match all by herself.
Some of the tropes in Jordan's domestic comedy "St. Scarlet" -- wacky sisters, men who stick their hand in the stove, mysterious strangers, the body of a dead mother laid out on the kitchen table -- will be familiar to lovers of quirky writers such as Beth Henley or plays such as Alan Ball's "Five Women Wearing the Same Dress." But ever since Tennessee Williams, these theatrical purveyors of outre social behavior have tended to cast their eye south of the Mason-Dixon line. With the exception of the odd comedy about a renegade lumberjack, or one of those rare moments when Garrison Keillor actually loosens his top button, those who wish to see Minnesotans behaving badly have had options about as limited as a Mai Tai merchant in Duluth.
"St. Scarlet," penned by a 1997 Juilliard graduate who has belatedly but suddenly become the next hot thing, is here to set that right. Set on St. Patrick's Day, it's a silly play about a dysfunctional Irish family (three adult kids living together, one dead mother on the table) in northern Minnesota. Through various machinations, a mysterious romantic interest appears at the door from New York. Having tramped his way through six feet of snow. Things deteriorate from there.
Jordan's style is, to say the least, zany. And the piece (which was something of a cult hit in 2003 at New York's Ontological Theater) starts slowly. But she's a much better storyteller than you first realize -- and she even manages a touch of genuine warmth amid all the craziness. The danger of this kind of show is the note of superiority that encourages an audience to look down on the characters. Jordan avoids that trap. She builds an exaggerated world, sure, but there's affection and truth to a play that tickles an audience greatly.
After a few early stutters, Rick Snyder's droll and nicely toned ATC production (a Midwest premiere) is a shrewd match for the work's style. The uber-kinetic Gwendolyn Whiteside is way, way over the top as young Ruby Cummins, a weird 21-year-old with a mission, but she sticks with it until it works. She's consistently funny and, by the end of the night, a genuine pleasure.
It helps that Cheryl Graeff (as the older of the two sisters) anchors the show with some genuine emotional complexity. And as the two men, Kevin R. Kelly (as the Minnesotan brother) and the aptly named Rocky Russo (as the New Yorker, stuck in the wrong snowy zoo) offer some delicious contrasts in the peculiar male.
This isn't the next great play, nor a life-changing experience. But if you have a taste for the helplessly offbeat -- and an affinity for the eccentricities of the Upper Midwest -- it's a funny way to pass 90 minutes. It's smart. It's fresh. And it makes you feel like Chicago is positively tropical at this time of year.
cjones5@tribune.com
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"St. Scarlet"
When: Through March 26
Where: American Theater Company, 1909 W. Byron St.
Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes
Tickets: $25-$30 at 773-929-1031
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