“Curse of the Starving Class” at The Pershing Square Signature Center (Photo: Monique Carboni)

Arnulfo Maldonado’s scenic design for The New Group’s revival of Curse of the Starving Class is so dead-on that the actors have a hard time catching up. Maldonado nails the crumbling squalor of the Tate family’s kitchen and their feeble attempts to keep it semi-livable. Their rural California homestead, complete with off-and-onstage livestock, is evoked in endless detail and the family’s history is strewn across its tile countertops and linoleum flooring. 

But the family who occupies it in Scott Elliott’s production doesn’t seem like the family who lives there. The starry cast, lead by Calista Flockhart and Christian Slater as the parents and Cooper Hoffman as their son, is too-polished all around. They’re not scrappy, they’re not conniving. Hoffman’s hangdog face and his shuffling body in costume designer Catherine Zuber’s grimy t-shirt get closest, but his voice is pristine and his eyes have a sparkle that should be dimmed before the play even starts.

Flockhart and Slater are giving it a go, but neither brings out the wiliness Sam Shepard has written into the dynamic of their relationship. Both Ella and Weston are trying to pull one over on the other. The play begins after Weston has returned home drunk and shattered a sliding glass door while threatening to kill his wife. Slater doesn’t have an ounce of that danger. When we see him drunk later in the play, he’s clumsy on his feet like a baby deer and falls asleep on the kitchen table. It’s hard to see how he’s the guy who would shatter glass. 

For decades, Flockhart’s petite frame has been the unlikely vessel for great power, but here, it’s as if Ella has crawled into herself and only peeks out through the eye holes. Even when she’s shouting, it’s never actually loud. Her Ella is perpetually sleepy–not exactly a dynamic choice for a nearly three-hour play.

Perhaps the production’s greatest mystery, though, is how the extraordinary actor Kyle Beltran can be so misused. Beltran plays Taylor, a slimy con man who is aiming to cheat the Tate family out of their land and, it is heavily implied, is sleeping with Ella to do so. Beltran’s access to his emotional truth is one of his greatest skills. The production leans into Beltran’s warmth and honesty, leading us to feel like maybe he will save Ella and her children. It’s an interesting choice not to telegraph Taylor’s ulterior motives from the jump, but without the contrast between Taylor and the family’s grittiness, the point isn’t actually made.

Even if Hoffman does not fully disappear into the role, he still exudes presence, holds the stage, and is completely keyed in with his scene partners. He has remarkable focus and in the close quarters of the Linney Theatre it’s incredible to watch him lock eyes with another actor and maintain that link. His commitment to the part is apparent and it felt like the birth of an exciting new stage actor if he continues to follow this path in addition to his film career.

Jeb Kreager has one scene in the second act as Ellis, the owner of a bar and, due to some foolery from Weston, now the owner of their house. Kreager is the only actor who feels like he’s in a Sam Shepard play. It’s a big, brusque performance that upends the energy in the room. Suddenly, the play has stakes. Suddenly, it seems like there’s real, palpable danger. The kind of tension that Kreager brings into the space should be there the whole time, but unfortunately Elliott’s production is content with settling for a single scene.

I do applaud The New Group for committing to such a big play. It’s long, the set is elaborate, a live lamb appears twice, and there’s even an explosion (expertly emulated by Jeff Croiter’s lighting and Leah Gelpe’s sound). If they’d somehow been able to get the acting up to the level of the production’s ambition, there would’ve been something truly special on that stage.