Broadway Reviews Theatre Review by Howard Miller - March 30, 2026 Dog Day Afternoon by Stephen Adly Guirgis. Based on the Life Magazine article "The Boys in the Bank" by P. F. Kluge and Thomas Moore, and the Warner Bros. film "Dog Day Afternoon." Directed by Rupert Goold. Scenic design by David Korins. Costume design by Brenda Abbandandolo. Lighting design by Isabella Byrd. Sound design by Cody Spencer. Hair and wig design by Leah Loukas. Makeup design by Katie Cell. Voice and dialect coach Kate Wilson. Associate director Rory McGregor.
Guirgis might have mouthed these words himself when, as has been widely reported, he was asked to excuse himself from the premises for a time following a heated exchange during a tense period of pre-opening rehearsals. But whatever that was about, the end result is a surprising one-two punch of a play that excels at combining frequent laugh-out-loud comic moments with the tension inherent in the situation. Or maybe not so surprising, since the playwright is known for his ability to concoct seemingly immiscible brews of outsider characters, prickly circumstances, and crackerjack interactions that emerge in ways that are both quite funny in the modern sense of laugh-inducing, and funny in the more classic sense, what you might call the absurdity of life, the "human comedy." Arguably, plotting is not always Guirgis' strong suit. Here, as in others of his plays, there are a few holes and awkward transitions, especially when new characters are suddenly introduced and then, just as suddenly, disappear. But damn if he doesn't shine at placing all of them in unforgettable situations and giving them some of the best dialogue to be heard on stage. Examples abound in his Pulitzer Prize-winning Between Riverside and Crazy, as well as in The Motherfucker with the Hat, Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven, and Our Lady of 121st Street, among others. Seeing his plays makes you want to lean in to pick up on every utterance and nuance. With Dog Day Afternoon, Guirgis has taken a ballsy risk by basing it on a known source instead of culling ideas from his own deep well of imagination. The play is his take on the 1975 crime drama film of the same title as well as from an earlier magazine article about the true story behind the botched bank job. Film-to-stage adaptations run many risks, from disappointing fans wanting a direct reproduction to disappointing those looking for something original. Well, miracle of miracles, Guirgis seems to have found the magic formula to satisfy both audiences. The film won an Academy Award for best original screenplay and was later selected for preservation in the National Film Registry, a collection of movies deemed to have significantly contributed to the country's film heritage. In honoring that legacy, Guirgis has maintained the general plot more-or-less as previously conceived, but the high-tension approach to telling the story has been completely reconceptualized.
At the start of the play, set in 1972 Brooklyn, Sonny and partners Sal (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) and Ray Ray (Christopher Sears) enter a branch of Chase Bank with the intent of pulling off a quick and easy armed robbery and getting away before anyone gets hurt or the police show up. "We come in peace!" are Sonny's words, meant to reassure and elicit the cooperation of the bank manager (Michael Kostroff) and the women tellers (Andrea Syglowski, Elizabeth Canavan, Wilemina Olivia-Garcia, and, as head teller, Jessica Hecht). Turns out, this marks the last normal moment (to the extent that an armed robbery can be considered normal) before everything starts to fall apart. Ray Ray soon panics and flees the scene, and Sal shows himself to be a dangerously unstable accomplice. The teeter-tottering tension between Sonny and Sal's differing approach to dealing with what quickly becomes a disintegrating situation is largely the fulcrum on which the play rests, so that even as the comic moments keep us laughing, the threat of violence from the unpredictable Sal keeps us from become complacent. Despite an abundance of glib humor, Dog Day Afternoon is no sitcom. Underneath the chuckles lie disconcerting episodes of, among other things, Stockholm syndrome, mental illness, potentially explosive police actions, and the treatment of queer individuals. (Sonny announces that he is gay, and there is a whole other plot strand relating to his life partner, Leon, played by Esteban Andres Cruz). There's also a discomfiting fourth wall-breaking scene in which the audience is pressed to become complicit as part of a crowd confronting the police force who, by that point, have surrounded the bank in what is deemed to be a hostage-taking situation. The production, directed with intensity and attention to detail by Rupert Goold, boasts terrific performances all around. Standouts are Bernthal and Moss-Bachrach (the two are real-life friends, possibly best known for playing pals in the FX television series "The Bear") top the list. But keep an eye on Jessica Hecht, who is just terrific as Colleen, the head teller, who views her job as protecting everyone else. She is fearless, outspoken, and courageously flippant, whether she is dealing with the robbers or with the police detective (John Ortiz), who is trying to negotiate the safe release of the bank employees and the capture of the would-be robbers. This is an altogether beguiling play, the kind that draws in an audience with great mastery of technique by all concerned. Even David Korins' revolving set design captivates us with its solidity and detail. I suppose the play, running two and a quarter hours including an intermission, could have been made a little shorter, perhaps by eliminating or combining roles (there are 17 named characters plus a few more portrayed by the ensemble). But, really, when is the last time a play has left you feeling happily sated, as if from a rare feast? That's Dog Day Afternoon.
|
