Gripping Psychological Drama 'Chester Bailey' Bows at New York's Irish Rep

Broadway has had more than its share of drama this year, but for good solid drama of the onstage variety, there is always off-Broadway. And for some great solid drama there is Irish Repertory Theatre's latest production, Joseph Daugherty's two-character play Chester Bailey, starring the real-life father and son Reed Birney and Ephraim Birney.

A lot of territory is covered by the two characters in Chester Bailey, a psychotherapist, Dr. Philip Cotton, and his extremely damaged patient, Chester. Given the therapist setting, one might reasonably expect some revelations, a primal scream or two; and there are some serious revelations as well as a scream or two. But Chester Bailey has much more in store for the audience than that.

After a brief introduction, there is about 15 to 20 minutes of exposition. When the two finally talk to each other, the audience is fully vested in their lives, and then the roller coaster begins. At first, Cotton's dilemma is how to exorcise the illusions of this hopelessly damaged soul. At some point, Chester's memories of experiences he has never experienced are all that keep him going. Cotton, too, has a few demons of his own that need to be dealt with, including a failed marriage and a relationship—never to be called an affair—with his boss's wife that brings plenty of guilt with it.

In an effort to get out of serving in World War II, Chester's parents finagle a job at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, where, ironically, an attack by a syphilitic co-worker leaves him blind and handless. In recovery, he somehow convinces himself that he can partially see and that he can, as amputees often do, still feel his hands. There are few things like false hope to get one through tough times, and Chester is all in on his illusions.

In some ways, Chester is distant relation to Joe Bonham, the faceless, limbless soldier in Dalton Trumbo's antiwar classic Johnny Got His Gun. Bonham can neither relate to the real world nor talk. All he can do is remember and dream. Chester, however, can relate and he can talk, and he does. And Cotton, perhaps an equally distant relation to Martin Dysart the child psychiatrist in Equus, is charged with listening, and their exchanges are tense and rich.

In any two-character play, the offstage characters are especially important, and here they are very well drawn: In a few sentences, people like Cora, Alice, Ruth, Espinoza, Brubaker and Henry become as real as if they had their own time onstage.

There are enough pipe dreams in Chester Bailey to sustain a whole roomful of Harry Hope's barflies, and enough illusions are poked and prodded to keep George and Martha partying for a week. Ultimately, the dilemma for Cotton is determining how important those illusions are to Chester's quality of life. And the choices that Daugherty makes for his characters are surprising and yet quite believable.

The Birneys navigate with ease what must be some pretty long and tough stretches of exposition that are spoken directly to the audience, making those speeches dramatic as well as informative. And, unsurprisingly, they have great chemistry in their scenes together. Ron Lagomarsino's crisp direction keeps the play moving at a nice clip, especially through that exposition.

John Lee Beatty's set is stunning, evoking the old Beaux Art McKim, Mead & White Pennsylvania Station with just a few girders while at the same time leaving room for a playing area of a Long Island mental hospital and even Coney Island's Luna Park. And somehow it never distracts from the actors or the action. The relatively small space of Irish Rep's stage is at once grand and claustrophobic.

All in all, the gripping Chester Bailey is like a tent in the desert in an old movie cartoon: small and simple on the outside but large and rich on the inside, and it is a welcome addition to Irish Rep's and New York's theater season.

Chester Bailey is playing at the Irish Repertory Theatre 132 West 22nd Street in New York, through November 13.