Theatre in Review: Fatherland (City Center Stage II)Our current state of American madness is made frighteningly explicit in this verbatim play, taken from court testimonies, public statements, and at least one recorded conversation. The characters are not named but this is the story of the Reffitt family, of suburban Dallas, who were torn apart by the participation of Guy, the father, in the events of January 6, 2022, and the wrenching decision of, Jackson, his son, to turn Guy into the FBI. The script closely matches news accounts and, as conceived and directed by Stephen Sachs, Fatherland is as taut as a tightrope and superbly acted. The action largely unfolds in the courtroom, featuring the character known only as Son on the witness stand, with frequent flashbacks. Son, who is nineteen, describes a happy and well-off childhood spent traveling the world with Faither, who works in the oil industry. "The most important things in the world are my wife and my kids. Family means everything to me," says Father, whose brood includes two daughters. "This family is close. Always laughing. Adventure. Facing the world together. I've filled two fucking passports with stamps from Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Algeria, Jamaica." Then the price of oil crashes, Father is out of work, and the family ends up back in Texas, living hand to mouth. Soon, Father is devouring the oeuvre of books ghost-written for Donald Trump, obsessing over certain passages in The Art of the Deal. Before long, he has joined the Texas Three-Percenters, one of those kooky militias fueled by dark fantasies of white replacement. (One of the group's more debatable assertions is that no more than three percent of the population stood against the British in 1776.) He is also addicted to right-wing news, mainlining daily doses of Tucker Carlson and Newsmax reports. Then comes the purchase of an AR-15 rifle, followed by survivalist stockpiles of key supplies. "I got this tip," he says. "Someone high up in government. The Chinese, they're going to fucking shut down the U.S. power grid so the electoral votes can be reset and recounted." It falls outside Sachs' remit to explain how Father gets sucked into this sand trap of lies and delusions -- so far, no playwright has plumbed the psychology of such insurgents -- but, employing his found materials, he constructs a tense drama of filial love and politics gone wild. Alarmed by Father's loose handling of his gun and rattled by his ravings about armed insurrection, Son emails a tip to the FBI. But the agency doesn't respond quickly enough to stop Father from leading a charge up the Capitol steps, proudly reaching out to his family on FaceTime; by then, he has been caught by TV cameras. As the family stares, horrified, at the screen, a call comes in from law enforcement. "Your timing is impeccable," Son says, bitterly. Fatherland traces with exactitude the breakdown of the relationship between Father and Son, followed by Son's decision to alert the authorities, which, he knows, will have irrevocable consequences. The production, from Los Angeles' Fountain Theatre (where Sachs is co-founder and artistic director), is swift and merciless, driven by a first-rate cast. Ron Bottitta charts Father's descent into unreality, a loving, roughhousing patriarch lost in a fever dream of conspiracies. Patrick Keleher's Son is a barbed-wire ball of tangled emotions, equally alarmed at and furious over Father's obsessions, yet punctured with guilt. As the prosecuting attorney, Anna Khaja is a brilliant listener, orchestrating her questions like an accomplished musical conductor. As the defense attorney, Larry Poindexter has relatively little to do except for a half-hearted, late-in-the-evening attempt at exposing Son as a grifter -- his case is remarkably weak -- but he executes himself well. The design is especially well-attuned to a production built for speed. Joel Daavid's spare set features a sort of broken wall upstage that neatly contains all necessary props. Alison Brummer's lighting efficiently reshapes the stage, shifting between past and present and making strategic use of saturated color in the Capitol riot sequence. This scene is aided immeasurably by Stewart Blackwood's sound design, which adds to the atmosphere of unleashed chaos. Danyele Thomas' costumes are well-judged especially Father's meticulously put-together riot outfit (body armor, helmet with GoPro, and megaphone), and the ill-fitting suit worn by him for his heartbreaking final court appearance. In the latter moment, Father makes a final statement that reveals the extent of the collateral damage to his family. His vision of revolution is thwarted but not surrendered; he feels no guilt. Yet he is bewildered by what he sees as his betrayal at the hands of the son he loves so deeply. Son, a pariah to his mother and sisters, is equally shattered, yet there is no indication that he would change his actions. The final sorrowful glance between the two men makes blindingly clear that, in this domestic civil war, peace remains far out of reach. --David Barbour 
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