Sam Shepard modestly called it "a love ballad, a little legend about love." But "A Lie of the Mind," his New York Drama Critics Circle Award–winning three-hour epic of revenge, violence, lust, and family dysfunction, is anything but little. "Lie" initially focuses on the shattered marriage of Jake and Beth. Driven into a jealous rage by his wife's acting and his belief she's fooling around with a castmate, Jake beats Beth to the point of brain damage. Her eccentric clan takes her home to their isolated ranch in Montana; Jake is convinced he's killed her. From this harrowing starting point, the play goes on a weird journey encompassing the seeming confusion and unexpected clarity of Beth's mind, the bleak pasts of both families, soul-killing father-son issues, and Shepard's view of the obsessive nature of male-female relationships.
The original 1985 production sported larger-than-life performances from an all-star cast, including Harvey Keitel, Amanda Plummer, Aidan Quinn, and Geraldine Page; explosively kick-ass direction by the playwright; and was a succès d'estime Off-Broadway. The current revival, by the New Group, puts the story on a more human scale. It makes these almost mythic characters more natural but loses some of their size and power. Ethan Hawke, one of the stars of another toned-down New Group revival ("Hurlyburly"), has directed the high-wattage ensemble in the style of kitchen-sink realism. Sometimes they speak so naturally, you have to strain to hear them. This approach yields satisfying results in the early scenes, in which a suspension of disbelief is not required, but as the proceedings get more outlandish and heavily symbolic—the American flag figures prominently in the final moments—the contrast between the styles is slightly jarring.
Nevertheless, Hawke and his company powerfully execute this war between the families and the sexes. Battle lines are clearly drawn, and the opposing sides fight it out to the death. Alessandro Nivola's Jake is like a coiled spring spiked with barbed wire: He could shoot out and slash you at any second. As Beth, Marin Ireland stakes her claim as the hottest young actor on or off Broadway. After creating indelible and disparate portraits of love-disappointed women in "Reasons to Be Pretty" and "After Miss Julie," Ireland painstakingly charts Beth's trek from mental darkness to "a new world," where love and safety can coexist. Keith Carradine and Laurie Metcalf balance humor and pathos as Beth's clashing parents, though Metcalf seems a tad too intelligent to be convincing as the loopy mother. Josh Hamilton makes the most of the somewhat thankless role of Frankie, Jake's nice-guy brother, and Frank Whaley adds just the right drop of compassion to the otherwise nasty Mike, Beth's overly protective sibling. As Jake's sister, Sally, Maggie Siff is eerily moving in her monologue describing the violent end of her father. Karen Young, who was Sally in the 1985 production, now plays Lorraine, the vengeful mother of Jake, Frankie, and Sally. She makes this pinched, crabby matriarch understandable and even sympathetic.
Derek McLane's evocative set resembles a cross between a Louise Nevelson sculpture and an upside-down version of "Antiques Roadshow." Furniture, TV sets, neon signs, and miscellaneous bric-a-brac crowd every corner, suggesting the warring families' cluttered history. Jeff Croiter's lighting transforms it into a variety of settings, both in reality and of the mind. The two-man group known as Gaines provides the memorable country-flavored music for this "love ballad."
Presented by the New Group at the Acorn Theatre, 410 W. 42nd St., NYC. Feb. 18–March 20. Mon., Wed.–Fri., 8 p.m.; Tue., 7 p.m.; Sat., 2 and 8 p.m. (No performance Thu., Feb. 25.) (212) 279-4200 or www.ticketcentral.com. Casting by Judy Henderson.