Sexual dissatisfaction, loneliness, frustrated small-town dreams, alcoholism, tortured identity: In the 1950s, William Inge turned those unlikely themes into the Broadway hits “Come Back, Little Sheba,” “Bus Stop” and the recently revived “Picnic.”
Now the TACT company is giving Inge’s “Natural Affection” its first professional production since its 1963 Broadway premiere. You can see why the show’s stayed under the radar: It’s pretty bizarre, as if Inge didn’t care anymore about propriety — an evolution parallel to that of his friend Tennessee Williams.
The premise of “Natural Affection” isn’t strawberries and cream, but the full extent of the show’s darkness takes a while to fully reveal itself.
Indeed, the first act moves like a slow, creaky jalopy as we meet Sue Barker (Kathryn Erbe, late of “Law & Order: Criminal Intent”), who’s worked her way up to being a buyer in a Chicago department store. She’s shacked up with Bernie Slovenk (Alec Beard), a barrel-chested lug with Cadillac tastes who’s insecure about making less money than Sue.
He makes up for this perceived shortcoming by carrying on an on-off affair with their next-door neighbor, Claire Brinkman (Victoria Mack), a saucy blonde who runs around in a pink negligée while her wealthy older husband, Vince (John Pankow, “Mad About You”), drinks himself stupid.
Even so, Sue and Bernie try to make a go at it.
And then her teenage son, Donnie (Chris Bert), suddenly turns up, fresh out of a “work farm” — that is, reform school. He and Sue barely know each other: She placed him in an orphanage when he was a toddler so she could make a living. Now the kid has problems, including a taste for that crazy rock music and an almost sexual fixation on his mom.
Things come to a head at Christmas — has there ever been a holiday show that didn’t turn into a screaming match?
And so it goes: After intermission, the jalopy turns into a V-8, its engine roaring into hysterical life. Ugly invectives fly, and blood is spilled in a burst of shocking violence.
Director Jenn Thompson deals with this fever-pitch material earnestly, but the casting prevents the show from taking off. Erbe, saddled with a terrible wig, doesn’t quite nail Sue’s life force or her guilt over abandoning her child, while Bert is oddly diffident as the unstable Donnie.
The only time the production’s pulse quickens is when the drunken Vince, who may or may not be gay, reveals his disgust with the times and himself. Knowing that the closeted Inge had a drinking problem and ended up committing suicide, it’s hard not to find that scene chilling.