Review: Of Mice and Men


James Franco and Chris O'Dowd in Of Mice and Men
(©Richard Phibbs)

John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is a beloved classic that is a staple in high school reading lists and has been adapted not once but twice for films. So why is it that this superb drama is only now receiving a Broadway revival for the first time in nearly forty years? It’s an oversight that has been finally rectified with the superbly staged and acted production starring James Franco and Chris O’Dowd that marks one of the highlights of the season.

Steinbeck’s 1937 work holds up beautifully in its superb dramatic construction and deeply moving characters. Set in California’s Salinas Valley, it depicts the strong friendship between migrant farm workers George (Franco) and Lennie (O’Dowd) who at the play’s beginning have just arrived at a ranch where they hope to work long enough to build up a stake so they can buy a small farm.

The two men represent an odd pair whose bond is never fully explained. George is a canny schemer capable of quickly sizing up people and situations, while the physically imposing Lennie is mentally impaired. He’s an overgrown man-child whose superhuman strength makes his love for petting small animals such as mice and rabbits often producing fatal results.

While the other workers regard this pair of grown men traveling together with suspicion, they quickly welcome them into their fold with George assuming his usual role as the socially maladroit Lennie’s protector. The exception is Curley (Alex Morf), the ranch owner’s son, whose bullying quickly sets George on edge. Fueling Curley’s hostility is his insecurity regarding his beautiful, sexy wife (Leighton Meester of Gossip Girl fame) whose loneliness and isolation prompts her to seek company in the men’s bunkhouse.

The play’s tragic climax is vividly foreshadowed, both by incidents from the past—Lennie was nearly strung up after an unfortunate encounter with a young woman who he nearly killed when he wouldn’t let go of her—and such gut-wrenching scenes as the men failing to intervene when one of their ranks (Joel Marsh Garland) insists on shooting the lame, elderly dog who is the beloved companion of Candy (Jim Norton), an aged, infirm worker who’s about to be let go.

Steinbeck’s deeply humanistic writing is vividly displayed in these and other moments and in such characters as Crooks (Ron Cephas Jones), the ranch’s sole black employee who is shunned by the other men and has bitterly retreated into isolation.

Director Anna D. Shaprio’s (August: Osage County) pitch-perfect production superbly captures the work’s deep pathos and dark humor. The latter is accentuated by O’Dowd’s superb performance. The Irish actor, best known on these shores for his appealing turn as the cop besotted with Kristen Wigg in the film Bridesmaids, is such an inherently funny performer that he scores frequent laughs. But rather than being jarring, it works beautifully, accentuating Lennie’s childlike innocence in a way that such cinematic predecessors in the role as Lon Chaney, Jr. and John Malkovich did not.

Making his theatrical debut, Franco, whose endless array of eccentric projects have earned him as much derision as admiration, more than holds his own. Although the actor doesn’t yet have the ability to fully command the stage, he delivers a thoughtful, measured performance that well portrays George’s loyal devotion to his simple-minded companion. Among the supporting players, particularly strong contributions are made by Norton, heartbreaking as the old man desperate to share the new arrivals’ dream of living on their own farm; Cephas Jones, vividly conveying Crooks’ anger and intelligence; and Jim Parrack, projecting stolid decency as Slim, the ranchers’ overseer.

By the time the evening reaches its violent, haunting conclusion, this fully lived-in and authentic-feeling production has fully cast a spell. It has the rare effect of leaving the audience feeling both deeply saddened and exhilarated.

Longacre Theatre, 220 W.48th St. 212-239-6200. www.Telecharge.com. Through July 27.