History of a Handgun

There’s a battle royal happening in writer/director Clint Sheffer’s new play History of a Handgun, a small-town gothic murder mystery of cinematic scope (Altman-sized) but limited production means (The Best Christmas Pageant Ever-sized). In one corner is Sheffer’s voice; with authentically stark hamlet dialogue and a working knowledge of the mores of the sticks, the playwright ably harnesses the lives of nine very different denizens of a fishing village haunted by the unsolved murders of two of its young women.

In the other corner is Sheffer the director, a guy who often tries to put across “bare bones” as “pulpy,” who doesn’t rein in his actors when their Southern-ish characters become unintentionally ugly, and who won’t demand that the playwright trim a little and offer up a vaguely coherent ending (which is necessary even if the Handgun’s point is that the human experience is inexplicable).

Around 10pm or so—the play runs two hours and 25 minutes—Sheffer the director wins outs. And since by that time he’s teased us with tantalizing plot twists, and drawn especially strong performances out of Ann Sonneville as a wraithlike Iraq War vet and Tiffany Bedwell as her estranged gal pal, it’s almost tempting to err on the old storefront side of it’s-flawed-but-you-should-see-it-anyway. But because the echoey effect of Strawdog’s space (even a modest set would have absorbed some of that tin-can sound) swallows much of Sheffer’s intricate dialogue, it’s a tough case to make.—Christopher Piatt