Family legend has it that my Irish-born great-great-grandfather fought on the Union side during the Civil War and was at the siege of Vicksburg. We’ve never confirmed that story. But if he was one of the boys in blue, he maintained an ironic sense of humor about it, naming his son Jefferson Davis Norris after the president of the Confederate States of America.
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The mutability of identity in wartime is at the heart of E.L. Doctorow’s 2005 novel The March, which can now be seen in a sprawling, intriguing—and frustrating—Steppenwolf Theatre Company production adapted and directed by Frank Galati. Galati has aimed high in staging Doctorow’s multifaceted look at General William Tecumseh Sherman’s devastating “march to the sea.” But in the end he’s created a show where panoply trumps personality. Few of his 26 cast members get enough stage time to register as anything more than uniforms. Unlike the determined general himself, Galati lacks a steely commitment here. He’s failed to make the hard decisions about which of Doctorow’s many intertwined stories should drive the narrative and which should be abandoned by the wayside.
A young, half-white former slave named Pearl (played with forthright charm by Shannon Matesky) assumes the identity of a drummer boy until her first period unmasks her. Later she has to decide if she should pass for white with Stephen, her newfound Union soldier beau, or stay true to the memory of her dead black mother, whose rape by the master resulted in Pearl’s birth.
Through 6/10: Tue-Fri 7:30 PM, Sat-Sun 3 and 7:30 PM, no show 5/5, Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Downstairs Theater, 1650 N. Halsted, 312-335-1650, steppenwolf.org, $20-$78.
