Victoria Lamb’s detailed set full of the debris of the American dream promised much. Second hand objects stacked on impossibly tall shelving evoked the skyscrapers of Chicago and suggested Don’s shop is located in an insalubrious downtown precinct. The desperate and claustrophobic atmosphere was enhanced by references from the characters that gave us the impression their universe and minds extended for only a few blocks.

The play’s title refers to the buffalo head nickels arranged as stars on the US flag in the excellent poster by Nic Hurcombe, and they have a role in the action (no pun intended). Furthermore, “to buffalo” means to bluff or deceive cunningly - native Americans of the plains used to approach bison under buffalo skins to get close for the kill. Playwright David Mamet is derisively referring to his consumer society’s mass hallucination called the American Dream.

Don (Phillip Spruce) has under his tutelage a simple young man called Bob (Michael Finney). Don’s friend, Teach, played by Rory Walker, is manically inchy to progress his economic status and Don has an opportunity of mutual benefit. Basically, the characters are two two-bit crooks and a candle in the wind.

The other promise is in the program - director Michael Hill is twice trumpeted as a gun Mamet interpreter by his fans, but after seeing this production (and unfortunately not his other Mamets) I am not convinced.

The director and cast just didn’t find the rhythm or pace needed to make the play snappy or earthy, and interesting to eavesdrop on. The first act dragged due to Pinter-length pausing - the characters took nearly as long to order breakfast as to plan a heist. Many important bits lacked punctuation by either a change in mood, tone, physical expression, pace, or even a lighting cue (Aaron J March - lighting designer). What you saw in the opening scenes was what you got nearly all the way through.

Walker was difficult to stay with, as he maintained an energetic volume (yelling) and a flushed face (red) nearly the entire play, but he did manage many ironic, comic lines with exquisite timing. The other actors seemed to deal with Walker’s constantly manic manor by ignoring it, which looked odd.

Finney inspired sympathy for Bob in his misfired efforts to please, and lack of life skills - he did a great job. However, Finney played him so simple that Bob seemed incapable of skullduggery and that may have robbed the second act of a dramatic element.

Spruce’s lumbering Don had little visible emotional response to the play’s events, probably with the calculated guard that the real person would have - but Don needed some theatrically enhanced personality. I did receive his unfamiliarity with paternity in actually caring about Bob, which was amusing and touching. In the quicker paced second act, Don’s mental wheels were turning when Teach convinced him that things weren’t as they seemed, with dubious interpretations, but his position on joining an attack on Bob was strangely equivocal.

Another reference to buffaloing is their distrust of each other - this was well said in amusing and threatening ways. Walker’s Teach is the antagonist to Spruce’s protagonist. Nearing the end, Teach convinces Don that Bob aims to double-cross them. We see the nasty consequence of his suspicion and after a few false leads, they find their caper was a house of cards built innocently by the eager-to-please Bob. In frustration, Teach topples the “skyscrapers” of the unbeatable system - they have been buffaloed again by the American dream, but it is Don who is left to pick up the pieces in an almost Pietá-like final tableau. The symbolic elements of the play were more accomplished than the art of dialogue and the violent climax seemed no more a personal tragedy than previous action, except, of course, for the body damage.

Ultimately then, how come these four men, all with State Theatre experience, could not put the zing in this thing? I have my theories, but what really matters is the next play by bluetongue - an’ay, buddy, doan slip’us any more o’ dem woiden nickels, ya know wad-I-mean?

David Grybowski

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