Theatre Raleigh Delivers a Timely Production of "Curse of the Starving Class"

Right now, many Americans are feeling quite bleak and hopeless. Thus, it’s an ideal, relatable time for a revival of Sam Shepard’s bleak (but not without humor) “Curse of the Starving Class,” onstage now at Theatre Raleigh under the intricate direction of Charlie Brady. And, speaking of timing, another revival of the show, one that features Calista Flockhart and Christian Slater, is set to premiere off-Broadway in early 2025, showcasing the forward-thinking, in-the-know approach Theatre Raleigh has become known for.

Though the play was first performed in 1977, its themes are still relevant, often in surprising, discomfiting ways. In fact, the present—a present in which so much is uncertain and at stake—makes the story’s themes feel all the more real and pressing.

Those themes include . . . a lot. Through an up-close-and-personal look at the dysfunctional life of the troubled (but not unusual) Tate family, the script explores domestic violence, the cycle of addiction, both real and perceived poverty, and the insatiable thirst that exists when a need, especially an unnamed, unknown one, is not being met. 

At the helm of this family, at least in position, is the violent alcoholic father, Weston, portrayed by a gruff Michael Tourek. As he drinks, chases ill-fated dreams, and neglects and abuses his family, they all suffer and seek to survive in their own ways. The mother, Ella (Heather Shore) chases some ill-fated dreams of her own while her two children implode. Emma, vivaciously portrayed by an unforgettable Maddie Behrens, acts out her rage through tangible, self-destructive actions. Her brother, Wesley, acted by an appropriately sulky, brooding Tom Butler, does the same, though his anger is more internalized and more of a simmer than a boil. That boil, however, is slowly and agonizingly reached over the course of the play.

Shepard’s smart, often somber writing keeps viewers fully immersed in this family’s life. While the result is, at times, a painful experience, threads of hope and humor are woven throughout, creating a purposefully confusing but always riveting emotional experience. His literary skill is further enhanced by emotionally charged, multi-layered performances from the entire cast. Tourek veers between believably incapacitated and surprisingly tender, creating a frustrating, flesh-and-bones character. Similarly, Butler’s Wesley pulls at the heart strings in some moments and instills fear and horror in others. Shore makes her character appear exhausted and hanging-on-by-a-thread, while Behrens’ Emma is the perfect, dangerous counterbalance. Together, the cast stirs up a magical potion of believable emotion, which is intensified by the jolting, startling lighting and sound effects that pervade the production.  

Also effective here is Chris Bernier’s intriguing set design. He has built a rustic, open home, complete with abstracted windows and a busted-down door, that turns viewers into voyeuristic onlookers. Yet, his set also serves as a reminder that the lives unfolding on the stage are not reality, or at least that they don’t have to be. The often-empty fridge, with its eerie light, also works well as a stark, indelible symbol. 

Overall, while this play may not remove the dark cloud many are under, it illuminates it. By asking viewers to confront a bygone reality and the fact that it might not be so bygone after all, this re-imagining of Shepard’s profound play is all the more important, timely, and impressive. To see it for yourself, tickets are available here.