Theatre in Review: The Exonerated (Culture Project)It was ten years ago that Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen's The Exonerated first froze our blood with its true tales of justice denied and lives derailed, if not destroyed altogether. Drawing from statements and interviews, the authors have compiled a half-dozen true accounts of Americans who were convicted of murders they didn't commit. As their testimonies make clear, the evidence used against them was at best flimsy; more often, it was flagrantly dishonest. That all of them returned from their personal hells provides the coldest of comforts. As one of them notes, looking us in the eye, if it happened to him, it can happen to you. Seen for the second time, The Exonerated isn't quite the revelation it originally was -- thanks to Blank and Jensen's work, we are more aware than ever how easily the judicial system can jump the rails -- but the stories still exert a vise-like grip. The authors crosscut from story to story, not so much to build suspense as to assemble a mural of rampant legal malpractice that will shatter the complacency of any thoughtful theatregoer. As before, the production makes use of a reader's-theatre format, blending six regular cast members with a roster of rotating guest stars. In the current lineup, under Bob Balaban's direction, each of them underplays skillfully, confident that their words are enough to scorch the paint off the theatre's walls. Brian Dennehy, repeating the role he played in the television film of The Exonerated, is Gary Gauger, who was accused of killing his parents. Groggy from hours of questioning with no sleep or food, he agreed to help create a "vision statement," laying out how he might have committed the murders; this hypothetical document was enough to land him on death row. Delroy Lindo makes good use of his imposing stage presence as the poet Delbert Tibbs, especially in a chilling moment when he removes his hat to reveal his totally bald head. (A witness in Tibbs' case said the killer had an afro, a fact that cut no ice with the police.) Chris Sarandon's carefully casual delivery adds to the horror of Kerry Max Cook's story; portrayed by a feverish prosecutor as a homosexual who get his kicks by killing women -- "We must look on it as putting a sick animal to sleep" goes the argument for the death penalty -- Cook, who is heterosexual, was brutally and repeatedly raped in prison, an ugly epithet carved into his backside with a knife. Most gripping of all is Stockard Channing as Sunny Jacobs, the naïve flower child who, trying to extricate her slightly shady boyfriend from a jam, ended up at the scene of a double homicide. Because the victims were cops and the perpetrator, an ex-con, was only too happy to cut a deal, Jacobs was incarcerated was 1976 to 1992. "Just remove that chunk from your life," she says, noting that her accuser recanted in 1979, yet it still took another 13 years for her to be freed. Also providing solid contributions are Curtis McClarin and JD Williams as men who found themselves accused largely because they were black and available. (It may not surprise you to hear that most of The Exonerated's miscarriages of justice took place in Florida and Texas.) Amelia Campbell and April Yvette Thompson also provide solid support as various wives, and Jim Bracchitta and Bruce Kronenberg fill out the cast as lawyers, judges, and policemen. This style of presentation precludes a full production design, but Tom Ontiveros' carefully calibrated lighting and David Robbins' sound design -- especially some deeply upsetting gunshot effects -- play no small part in the production's overall effect. At the performance I attended, the real Sunny Jacobs, now an elderly lady, was introduced, to the audience's evident delight. But The Exonerated, despite its protagonists' astonishing endurance, has very little to offer in the way of uplift. Jacobs survived, but her common-law husband, also innocent, was executed; her children were raised by others. Cook's conviction drove his beloved brother to alcoholism and an early death. Others had their careers curtailed or their faith challenged; all must live with the stigma of prison sentences. This is perhaps why the audience at The Exonerated reacts in such an audible manner, voicing its distress in a way that one rarely experiences in the theatre. It's the kind of reaction that can only happen when one comes in close contact with the ugly, unvarnished truth. In American culture, murder is all too often a diversion, an extra-spicy ingredient in the stew of scandal served up by the television news media. (Think of Nancy Grace, TV's harpy-in-residence, clicking her knitting needles and demanding the death penalty five nights a week.) As these scalding testimonies show, justice is illusory far more often than we think.--David Barbour 
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