Theatre Review: Sheep's Clothing 

A Few Good Men: Sheep's Clothing, by PURE's Spencer Deering, is affectionate, funny, and sneaky

Sheep's Clothing
An original production by PURE Theatre
May 7-9, 13-15, 7:30 p.m.
May 10, 2 p.m.
Circular Congregational Church, Lance Hall
150 Meeting St.
(843) 723-4444

A few years ago, the New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd published a book whose title asked a simple question, Are Men Necessary? In those 350 pages, Dowd may have arrived at her own conclusion, but for anyone willing to entertain a little further inquiry, Spencer Deering's new play Sheep's Clothing (premiered by PURE Theatre) makes for an insightful and hilarious study.

The premise is simple enough. Take four high school coaches, each roughly representative of a different stage in a man's life, and closely observe them as they come to grips with an assault on their core beliefs: about themselves, about manhood in general, and the way of the world.

Think of it as locker-room anthropology.

George, often called by his nickname, "Sweetness," is the veteran campaigner. Nat Jones plays him as a lovable old salt, a grumbling reminder that while there may be snow on the roof , there's still fire in his belly.

Josh Wilhoit's Dan, the youngest of the four, is the least sure of his place. He still wears adulthood as though it were his father's hand-me-down suit of clothes.

Paul Whitty as Luggs is everything his name conjures up: overweight, over-tired, and overly confident of his position in the scheme of things until Steven, the newest coach, arrives.

Brian DeCosta's Steven — not, Luggs notes archly, "Steve" — is the most conflicted, contradictory sort. He is the enlightened, 21st-century guy, the sort of sensitive, politically-correct animal who would drive Luggs crazy if it weren't for the fact that Steven is dating a much younger woman.

Which makes his otherwise suspect character all right. But it's the opposite situation with a female math teacher's sexual liaison with a male athlete that's destined to upset everything in this tight little world.

What binds these men together is a shared sense of responsibility for the task they see before them: to guide barely fledged young men — restless, hormonally unbalanced teenagers — on their first steps toward manhood. To shape the men these boys will become. The question is — which shape is the correct one?

Deering presents this process as what it is: not an elegantly simple, attractively linear progression but a series of fitful negotiations. In Deering's loving appreciation for this process, it's less a water-tight vessel for education than a leaky old boat, in which older men tug boys along in uncertain waters.

The locker room is the sanctuary for these deliberations between men and boys, a safe haven for uncertainty. The play manages to straddle opposing viewpoints. The cast runs riot in the intervening open space. Steven's sin is intruding a woman — the school's principal Jane (Pam Nichols) — into the dialogue. All hell gleefully breaks loose.

The play's dialogue is replete with telling one-liners, so many they threaten to slip the net entirely, lost among the enormous haul Deering pulls up for the audience. Luggs blistering assessment of the neutering of his world — "First it was gym, then phys ed., and now — Kinetic Wellness!" — is a typical, razor-sharp throw-away line.

George entertains himself by coming up with a new physical ailment every other week, nose-tweaking the system he feels is set up to screw teachers out of fair wages for all they do. Sheep's Clothing is a sneaky play. It draws the audience in with a Trojan Horse full of laughs and underscores its humor with a truly incisive look at the embattled world of men. Deering's affection for his topic shines in every line. Even as Luggs' orderly universe is undermined at every turn, he and the other coaches prove that they are necessary.

To one another, if to no one else.


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