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Who would have thought the sixth top-earning town in the U.S. would happily accommodate a homeless man, leather-jacketed ruffian and his troubled brother through the end of March 2012?
And for $60 a ticket, you can watch them feud on a stage-turned-dysfunctional West London home in The Caretaker, by English playwright Harold Pinter, the latest production from Writers' Theatre in Glencoe.
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First published in 1960, the play has seen its fair share of productions, including one from Steppenwolf Theatre, Chicago, starring John Malkovich and Highland Park native Gary Sinise.
Though the latest production doesn't boast a Hollywood A-list, its cast steers Pinter's pensive writing like competitive lorry drivers barreling down a theatrical bypass, each with one headlight to spare.
In a dimly lit room, designed by lighting expert Heather Gilbert, cluttered with boxes, table legs, ash trays, a vacuum and a porcelain Buddha, 30-something Aston (played by Anish Jethmalani) offers an aged homeless man Davies (William Norris) his brother's bed after saving him from a bar fight.
At first reluctant, unfamiliar with the tenant and his motivations, Davies accepts his offer and a few bobs to tide him over. It's the start of an absurd relationship — at times reminiscent of the Marx Brothers (favorite comedic actors of Irish playwright Samuel Beckett, who had a lasting influence on Pinter).
Grown men bunk together in a dank room, while raindrops fall into a bucket anchored from post to ceiling.
And conflict ensues when Mick (Kareem Bandealy), Aston's rebellious brother, drifts in.
As the play progresses, Mick pictures a penthouse in place of a fix-me-up, while Aston offers Davies, who Norris portrays as eccentric man of the world, a position as caretaker.
Aside from Davies' timid knife, the build-up of brutal honesty — whether in the form of latent pleading or introspection from an institutional discharge turned handyman — gives this play its edge.
"Then one day they took me to a hospital," recalled Aston, sitting beneath a looming spotlight, "They asked me questions in there."
"They come round with these big pincers with wires on them ... wires attached to a little machine."
Signed off by his mother for electric shock therapy, a limping Aston shows just how honest you can be on the outskirts or inseams.
While the play seems to prefer phenomona to social context — even though Davies is racist and Aston and Mick are men of color (in this casting) — empathy keeps it from spinning into a Beckett-like abyss, as in End Game or Play.
And yet, the audience can decide if such empathy ends up with the clutter.
