Curse of the Starving Class

By: Darryl Reilly

Christian Slater’s soaring delivery of a poetic monologue spoken to an expressive sheep about castrating sheep, where the severed organs are then tossed onto a barn’s roof for an omnipotent eagle to devour, is one of the many highlights of this rousing revival of Sam Shepard’s 1977 dysfunctional, serio-comic family saga, Curse of the Starving Class.

Mr. Slater’s appearance has understandably weathered since he emerged as a teenaged movie star in the 1980’s; maturity has increased his stature and magnifies his stage presence here as an often drunken, wayward Vietnam War veteran patriarch. Slater’s screen persona traits of his mischievous grin, twinkling eyes and Jack Nicholson-style cadences, all gloriously remain, informing his scorching turn.

Calista Flockhart is ferocious as Slater’s estranged and embittered wife. The sleek and fiery Ms. Flockhart mines all the possible pathos and comedy there is during her magnetic performance. Much of the plot centers on and her and Slater’s race to separately sell their dilapidated, Central Valley California farm, to start life afresh without each other. At the performance under review, Flockhart’s throwing artichokes in the kitchen became a spontaneous, golden moment of the theater. One inadvertently landed in the auditorium and was caught by an audience member. He threw it back onstage, Flockhart turned around, attempting to control her visible laughter.

Personable Cooper Hoffman incites sympathy as the morose, and disaffected son who hauntingly morphs into his father. The alluring Stella Marcus is captivating as the troubled daughter who shoots up a bar and plans to run away to embark on a life of crime. Ms. Marcus and Flockhart have a wickedly contentious exchange about sanitary napkins. With good ole boy swagger, Jeb Kreager is chilling in the menacing manner of M. Emmett Walsh, as a bar owner whom Slater owes money to. Wiry, and animated Kyle Beltran is delightfully weaselly as a crafty lawyer. Beaming David Anzuelo is hilarious as a befuddled sheriff and icy as a masked henchman. Then there is that sheep, who makes several mesmerizing appearances, becoming a totem. It is brought into the kitchen from outside and fenced up to recover from maggots. Its striking facial expressions, intense stares, and strategic bleating are all priceless.

Structured in three acts, and lasting two hours and 45 minutes including an intermission, Curse of the Starving Class is one of Shepard’s major works; it is perpetually revived. With its fierce family conflicts, pipe dreams, ravishing dialogue and symbolism, we are joyously in Eugene O’Neill territory. It is another of Shepard’s eloquent takes on the curdling of The American Dream. This family really is starving as money is scarce, and the refrigerator is empty.

Director Scott Elliott’s production is complicated. The first half is laden with exposition and Mr. Elliott does not inject enough vigor; it is an underwhelming time with the actors being relatively listless. However, the second half is fast paced and loaded with action, which Elliott impactfully renders with precise physical staging. By the emotionally draining conclusion, one has forgotten about the initial dullness.

Scenic designer Arnulfo Maldonado’s ramshackle kitchen and living room are wondrously detailed. Jeff Croiter’s high caliber lighting design is ever present, especially during monologues as brightness and dimness fluctuate for moody effect. Gunshots, explosions and songs by Dolly Parton, The Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers, are all finely realized by Leah Gelpe’s bracing sound design. Costume designer extraordinaire Catherine Zuber mostly revels in down market shabbiness, though the lawyer wears a snazzy suit.

Grandly performed and faithful to Sam Shepard’s vision, this searing New Group incarnation of Curse of the Starving Class is a rich theatrical experience.

Curse of the Starving Class (through April 6, 2025)
The New Group
The Romulus Linney Courtyard Theater at The Pershing Square Signature Center, 480 West 42nd Street, in Manhattan
For tickets, visit www.thenewgroup.org
Running time: two hours and 45 minutes including one intermission