John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is a simple story about simple things: friendship, work, loyalty, and the dream of an idyllic life. But in 1920s America, that ideal life falls far short of modern dreams like a suburban house or a retirement plan. For Lenny and George, that “retirement” means an escape from itinerant ranch work into a settled life—tending a small cottage where they raise their own food and have no need to roam in search of work.
The Milwaukee Rep’s production of Steinbeck’s play (based on his novella) embraces that simplicity wholeheartedly, as any vision of the story would. The opening and closing scenes takes place on an elemental bare stage—a few tree stumps and a small pool of water. And you can almost smell the sunbaked pine in set designer Todd Edward Ivins’s ranch barracks, in which most of the play unfolds.
Steinbeck lived this life for a time, and the play is filled with details of the ranch life—terms like “jerkline skinner” (a man who can drive a team of mules with a single rein) and “bucking barley” (loading sacks of grain). The men at work here are often broken by their years of labor: the oldest, Curley (Jim Pickering), had his hand maimed in a piece of machinery, Crooks (Chiké Johnson) is so named because of his bent back, injured when he was kicked by a horse. The workers are—essentially—beasts of burden, an idea made clear by Rachel Laritz’s costumes—the contrast between their work-a-day clothes and the snappier “ranch wear” of Boss (Jonathan Gillard Daly) and his son Curly (Bernard Balbot).
Since the story is simple, details matter. And that’s where Mark Clements’s production shines. The supporting actors—particularly Johnson, Pickering, and Kelley Faulkner as the woman who dreams of being in “the pictures”—create nuanced, lived-in characters. It’s a challenge, since these are not men with wide vocabularies who are given to reflection. Instead, psychology is revealed through silences and subtext. As the lead pair, Jonathan Wainwright and Scott Greer create a resonant vision of friendship using the simple language that Steinbeck puts at their disposal. As George, Wainwright is the epitome of a plain-spoken survivor, but watch him light up when he fixes his mind on the dream that lies in the distance. And Greer—reprising his portrayal of Lennie that won him awards for Clements’s 2007 Philadelphia production–captures the details of a mind fixed in the present moment. Even with his limited words, you can see every thought and desire (and fear) flicker across his expressive face before he acts on it.
It’s only been 15 years since The Rep offered a different version of Steinbeck’s play, but Clements’s superb production shows why Of Mice and Men remains a classic. And why this stark vision of the American Dream will live for decades to come.
