Thicker Than Water

IF BLOOD IS TRULY THICKER than water, then for working-class families struggling daily to make ends meet, the blood ought to coagulate with the exceptional tenacity. Sometime in a young man's evolving life--perhaps when sitting around listening to his parents rehash the good old days of labor unionism, perhaps when receiving his first summer job through his union head dad welding iron ore--a bell rings in his head and a credo resounds loud and clear: the only two loyalties in life that count are union and family, and so long as those two pillars of institutionalism remain intact, life will breed security, happiness, and the American dream. So long as no one bucks the system, the blood flows smoothly.

With contemporary society beset with ever-increasing obstacles, though, things aren't always quite so formulaic. What happens, for instance, when something fails to go according to plan at the shipyard, and someone questions the sense of the entire system? Worse yet, if the rebel is a member of one's own family? How strongly do unions and brothers bond?

In George Sibbald's play Brothers, the McMillan family artery has been badly ruptured, and the threat of an irreparable clot is imminent. Beset by internal divisiveness, the McMillans quarrel and argue incessantly; the entire second act is an unbroken family battle. Superficially, Brothers seems little more than a soap-opera amalgamation of labor unrest, family feuds, and terminal illness, but fine writing and acting elevate it beyond the level of daytime serial.

The youngest sibling, Tommy (Dennis Christopher), forms the crux of the conflict. Tommy suffers from a hereditary kidney ailment, and needs a transplant--preferably from within the family--to survive. His only prospects are Brother Earl (Gary Kian), an over-aged, childlike buffoon; brother James (Pat MacNamara), a reformed alcoholic and aspiring academic; and Harry (Frank Converse), the only realistic possibility, a Beacon Hill lawyer married into wealth and long ago estranged from the family. Compounding the tension is the elder McMillan (Carroll O'Connor), an aging Irish head-of-the-local who believes firmly in organized labor, romanticizes the good old days of socialism and, despite his elder sons' urging, is determined to win the upcoming union elections for the 26th consecutive year.

What could become the opportunity for a contrived and inflated forum for Sibbald's opinions remains in the hands of the actors. Despite the magnitude of the life-death predicament. Tommy remains the simple, sincere kid trying--to the last--to mend fences. No fancy philosophical speeches, no existential angst--the simple words "Pop, I'm scared" are as effective as the handshake between Jim and Harry at a crucial and tender moment.

The barriers dividing the family, though, dominate their bonds, as philosophical differences on unionism and identity prove unsurpassable.

CARROLL O'CONNOR, best known for his 13-year stint as Archie Bunker on All in the Family, displays remarkable control. Despite the striking similarity of his theatrical and television roles both blue collar, conservative and ideologically limited--no trace of Archie Bunker seeps through. O'Connor's only impediment is a simulated Irish brogue which, while credible, frequently muffles his speeches.

Though parts of the play get bogged down, most of the dialogue is incisive and clever. The combination of snappy one-line's from Earl about sex interspersed with old man McMillan's wisdom and expostulations contribute to the crafty exposition and ambiguity that Sibbard weaves throughout the drama. When Jim accuses James and Harry of becoming too uppity, we don't know whether to resent him for destroying his family with pedagogical union philosophy or pity him for living in a world that no longer exists. And, although Earl comes across as little more than an overgrown child who buys Porsches while declaring bankruptcy, it is he and not Harry who sticks by his dying brother.

Brothers succeeds in making us moralize precisely because Sibbard restrains himself from self-righteous pontification. Although James ultimately rejects Harry's offer to "take him away from all this," when James takes to the bottle again, no one is certain that he has made the right choice. Sibbard's play works because of not in spite of--the frayed ends; they let it transcend the level of soap opera, and leave the audience feeling appropriately unsettled and introspective.

The Arts Page, a new feature of The Harvard Crimson will appear twice weekly.