The Grapes of Wrath

With this revival of the 1988 adaptation of Steinbeck’s classic tale of Depression-era Okies working their way West, Infamous Commonwealth rounds out a season dedicated to exploring the topic of “nature.” Yet Thompson’s largely foregone that theme to highlight Grapes’s more pertinent resonances of economic woe and the (intermittent) heroism it inspires.

Thompson presents Grapes as a litany of stunning tableaus set on an amber-lit stage encircled by dusty chiffon curtains and occupied only by a crafty, movable jalopy—a stark, gorgeous vision that allows appropriate attention to character. But the ecological backdrop remains tranquil when not downright lovely, incongruously closer to Fenimore Cooper’s overabundant West than Steinbeck’s own. What the second act gains by abandoning these sleek visuals, it loses in overcomplicated scene changes that deliver us from Dustbowl California straight into the hands of Raven Theatre.

Galati’s script likewise has its shortcomings: a haltingly episodic second act, and that nagging question, “Why does this novel need to be on stage?” Still, it’s an uncommonly full-bodied adaptation, with intricate arcs established for characters large and small. Ultimately, the piece hinges on the vitality of large-scale campfire celebration scenes, and the pathos of quieter moments when the ensemble stands literally poised on the brink of hope-imbued horizons. It takes a cast as uniformly excellent as Infamous Commonwealth’s to make such moments sing. And sing they do.

• More theater reviews
• More Theater articles