Sam Shepard’s ‘Action’ @ Undermain Theatre
Photos by Paul Semrad
—Martha Heimberg
You think your family is a dysfunctional mess at the holidays?
Wait’ll you see Action.
A few strings of Christmas lights decorate the iconic concrete columns in Undermain Theatre’s darkened basement playing space, where a battered kitchen table and chairs sit front and center. Robert Winn’s sparsely lit, cavernous set design features a circular clothesline—so chances are the laundry will get done and hung. But are those pants tied in a noose? The dulcet strains of Bing Crosby singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” set a nostalgic tone, as two men and two women take their seats at the table. Shiver.
Just in time for the holidays, Undermain Theatre opens its 42nd season with a brilliant, comic, and chilling production of Sam Shepherd’s 1974 classic, Absurdist drama Action. Directed in 55 fiercely taut minutes by Undermain artistic associate Christina Cranshaw, this language-dense show also lives up to its title.
A small roasted turkey sits on the table, and everybody drinks from brown cups in sullen silence. Jeep (athletic, sonorous Caleb Mosley) leaps up and declares, “I’m looking forward to my life,” and continues to rant about how he pictures himself. When Liza (earthy Mikaela Baker in seen-it-all mode) asks him who he’s talking to, Jeep’s eyes grow soft for a moment as he describes the picture he has of Walt Whitman, dressed in his dark vest and waistcoat. As if the great American poet of yesteryear could hear this babbling wannabe.
Shooter (Taylor Harris, built like a Sumo wrestler and exuding the innocence of a frightened toddler) speaks of how humiliating it is to be a dancing bear. He needs to go take a bath, because (he says) “it calms me down.”
Shooter admits he’s scared because “the only thing covering me is my skin.” When he feels things are “getting out of control” he needs to smash stuff and scream until his throat feels torn inside. Shooter is happiest when curled in a circular chair he’s dragged from the darkness. You know the feeling.
Permanently pissed-off Lupe (Sienna Castañeda Abbott, barely holding back the fury) yearns to be “like Judy Garland in a rage.” Snarling, she claws off a turkey keg and gnaws on it, while Liza explains how a turkey is fattened and its throat stuffed with a walnut “right before you kill it.” Good to know.
As Jeep dips well water from a bucket over and over, Shooter reminds the Christmas celebrants that just because “you’re surrounded by four walls and a roof” doesn’t mean you’re out of danger. They all turn the pages of a book, and Jeep bemoans the fact that they can never find their place. I’ve been there a few times.
Despite the conventions of colored lights and clean laundry and Liza’s green and red Christmas dress—kudos to lighting designer Steve Woods, costume designer Susan Austin, and properties designer Kaitlin Hatton and her furniture supplier—it’s clear these lost souls are simply going through the motions. What else can they do?
You’ll see what they can do as the charade continues, and Shepherd’s plaintive, lyrical cries for escape grow louder. All that pent-up frustration has got to explode, right? A sacrificial fish will be eviscerated on command, and who knows how many chairs will be slammed into oblivion before this run is done.
Don’t miss this extraordinary ensemble performance.
Now go home and hang a wreath. Or a noose!
WHEN: November 6-December 7, 2025
WHERE: 3200 Main Street, Dallas (Note to newbies: elevator to basement level)
WEB: undermain.org
