“The White Chip” at MCC Theater (Photo: Matthew Murphy)
About ten minutes into Sean Daniels’s well-crafted autobiographical play The White Chip, main character Steven (Joe Tapper) reels off a list of accomplished playwrights known for their drinking: “Tennessee Williams? Edward Albee? Eugene O’Neill? Terrence McNally?” He needn’t have stopped there. There is no shortage of writers (or artists) who flourished in spite of heavy drinking, nor is there any shortage of stories about alcoholism, alcoholics, or recovery. Adding another entry to the genre might be an act of bravery or foolishness.
The White Chip’s plot, which traces the arc of Steven’s relationship with alcohol, follows a pretty standard formula. It starts with his first taste of beer at twelve (“terrible… metal and water mixed together”) continues to overuse, then to dependence, and onto life-threatening addiction and many failed attempts at sobriety before he finally dries out. Over the course of his alcoholism, he does some pretty despicable things: he drives drunk; he abandons his dying father; he treats his friends horribly; he treats himself horribly.
As Steven, Joe Tapper is confident, vulnerable, engaging, playful, genuine, and all-around terrific. Good thing, as he’s center stage from lights up to curtain. There are two other actors, Crystal Dickinson and Jason Tam, who do a fine job playing all the other parts, but you’d be forgiven if you walked away thinking you’d just seen a one-person show. Tapper’s constant presence, combined with his use of direct audience address to narrate events and the play’s autobiographical, confessional tone, lends the play a solo feel.
Steven’s long litany of misdeeds might feel like the making amends stage of a twelve step program in lesser hands, but the earnest vulnerability feels genuine and nuanced. Part of this is Daniels’s script, which doesn’t lose sight of the story he is telling. Whether it is the central character’s troubled relationship with his alcoholic mother, who ends every exchange with “Fuck you,” or Steven’s many betrayals of his friend JC, the misdeeds have a direction; they further the story. And though it’s cliché to say recovery is a process not a destination, Daniels does a good job illustrating why that’s true.
A lot of the play’s success should be credited to director Sheryl Kaller. The cast is nimble, transitioning from one moment (or character) to the next effortlessly and efficiently. Creative staging and maximizing the use of the supporting actors keeps things interesting even when Steven has shown up drunk at work for the eighth time. The show maintains a frenetic energy until Steven’s final recovery near the end of the play, so it’s never boring. There’s a drawback to this breakneck speed – it’s hard to land emotional moments at eighty miles an hour. But there are some, and the play’s ending achieves the poignancy it aims for.
The design elements are effective, especially Leon Rothenberg’s sound design, which adds subtle texture throughout. Some of the props or costume pieces used to define characters, like Steven’s mother’s sweater, start to feel overused by the end of the play, but otherwise the costume design (by Devario Simmons) feels right. And the set, designed by Lawrence E. Moten III, is flexible enough to support the play’s dynamic staging.
Solo shows have become quite popular due, in part, to economics. It’s a lot cheaper to stage a show with one actor than with fourteen. Or maybe the one-person performance fits into our current selfie ethos. It’s the theatrical equivalent of a friend’s social media feed. That characterization probably betrays me: I’m generally not a fan of the one-person play. Like that friend’s self-promotional social media feed, I find solo shows too self-involved, too one-dimensional. They lack the thing I love about theater the most, the give and take between actors that, when it works, is like nothing else: mesmerizing, transporting, thrilling. So I have to give credit to this team (including the producers, who are taking a chance on a more expensive format) that has strayed from the one-person formula. The two additional actors make all the difference. Were Joe Tapper alone on stage telling this story, I expect this would feel like any number of recovery narratives. Instead, the play is alive, funny, and entertaining.