Review: Sump’n Like Wings Is a Potentially Great Play Trapped in a So-So Production

In many ways, what we 21st-century Americans consider “normal” is profoundly strange in the grand context of humanity — most notably, the desire to leave home and forge one’s own destiny apart from family and tribe. In societies around the world, it is still common for multiple generations to live under one roof, with younger family members relinquishing decision-making power to elders when it comes to major life choice like marriage and work. But not here — not without the pungent stench of failure.

That makes Willie Baker (Mariah Lee), the fiercely independent protagonist of Lynn Riggs’s Sump’n Like Wings, a hugely familiar American character — even if American audiences from 1925 (when the play was originally written) might not have immediately recognized themselves in her.

The play is now making its belated New York debut with Mint Theater Company, which specializes in that kind of thing. It’s a fascinating if somewhat shaggily written drama with many of the hallmarks of a lost gem unjustly excluded from the repertory of great American plays (Riggs wrote over 30 plays but is best known for Green Grow the Lilacs, the basis for Oklahoma!). Unfortunately, it’s hard to make a solid judgement about that after viewing this uneven and inert production from director Raelle Myrick-Hodges.

It starts on a promising note: Mrs. Baker (a spookily authentic Julia Brothers) is cleaning tables at the hotel she runs with her confirmed bachelor brother Jim (Richard Lear in cuddly guncle mode) in Claremont, Oklahoma. Her 16-year-old daughter, Willie, bangs on a door, behind which Mom is keeping her “under my thumb,” and screams to be let out. “It’s jist the age they git interested in — things,” warns Mrs. Clovis (Traci Hovel), “boys — you know whut I mean. You have t’ be keerful, who they run around with. A girl’s life c’n be ruined.”

To underline the point, Mrs. Baker has hired Elvie Rapp (Lindsey Steinert) to help around the dining room. Recently released from jail, she assaults Willie with an unsolicited monologue about her hard life. Steinert savors every tawdry detail, making this scene feel like a 1920s precursor to an out-of-control-teens episode of Maury. “Don’t like my story, eh? Well, you’ll have a worse one some day,” Elvie tells Willie with dark satisfaction. And her prophecy proves largely correct as we witness Willie’s adventures with ill-gotten relationships, teenage pregnancy, and single motherhood.

It could easily be a century-old afterschool special about the dangers that await girls who stray, but it never is. Riggs’s treatment of Willie is unflinchingly compassionate, further reinforced by Lee’s sympathetic performance of a free spirit who will die if she is caged. This is clearest in Act 2, when Mrs. Baker throws a small party. This ice cream social, complete with dulcimer performance by Uncle Jim, is obviously the highlight of the week for every attendee but Willie, whose pained expression can only convey one question: Is this my life?

Sump’n Like Wings exhibits many of the hallmarks of a bygone era of playwriting, when exposition was lavish and actors were cheap. Mint, to both its credit and detriment, opts to give Wings the full 1920s treatment by hiring 14 performers for 14 roles, even though some of them only appear in one scene. It feels exceedingly wasteful from the perspective of off-Broadway in 2024, but it’s nice to see so many people working.

The language of the script is noteworthy. Riggs captures the dry prairie diction of Oklahoma (when it doubt, make the vowel an “e”), which some actors (especially Brothers) are better at conveying than others. Certain redundancies seem to offer an opportunity for subtext and movement, but here feel merely redundant, sapping the play of tension.

This is most pronounced in scenes between Willie and Boy Huntington (Lukey Klein), the primary love interest of the play who is presented here as a hiding-in-plain-sight queer character. Klein endows Boy with a high reedy voice and indolent saunter. This is no Jud Fry, and we are instantly aware that Willie’s interest in Boy is purely mercenary: She’s wants to get out of Claremont and he has a good job that will take her away.

They have zero sexual chemistry — and this is a perfectly justifiable choice, especially if the director highlights certain lines in the third act (“It’s the way people are made that’s to blame”). Unfortunately, Klein’s stilted line deliveries and awkward habit of reacting only when they are actively speaking do nothing to illuminate the inner life of this fascinating character, leaving viewers to suspect a case of flagrant miscasting.

The design is hit-and-miss, with excellent work by set designer Junghyun Georgia Lee, who delivers an austere Cracker Barrel to represent the hotel dining room. Emilee McVey-Lee’s costumes show great attention to period fabric types and textures. Isabella Gill-Gomez’s lighting, although occasionally heavy-handed, exudes an early 20th-century incandescence. Perhaps sound designer Sean Hagerty wanted to take that vibe one step further by underscoring certain moments with the swell of sentimental music, like we’re watching TCM — but he doesn’t fully commit to the choice, making these moments stick out haphazardly.

A play ahead of its time, Sump’n Like Wings is worth seeing if only to experience the distinctive voice of an underrated American dramatist. One can only hope that this limp noodle of a production won’t discourage future productions of his work.