If Mel Brooks' motto is "It's good to be the king," Sam Shepard's might be (apologies to Shakespeare) "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." Reversals reverberate throughout Shepard's oeuvre, with the once-mighty cowed, confronted, and laid low. In The Tooth of Crime, Shepard plucks not only this classical string but also those of fame, identity, style, and violence, in a mesmerizing play with music that is poetic if not pretty, seen in a revival that is succinct if not entirely successful.
To commemorate La MaMa's 45th anniversary, director George Ferencz has re-created his celebrated 1983 production. In contrast to Richard Schechner's sensory-assailing American premiere, Ferencz envisions old-school kingpin Hoss hurtling towards battle with a younger foe — and perhaps with irrelevance — as a stripped-down rock concert.
By virtue of the setting, the play's rock 'n' roll vernacular pops, helping to delineate its amorphous environs. Yet the concert conceit is ultimately more efficient than effective. The gains made in anchoring the material come at the expense of partially defanging Tooth, undercutting the palpable danger of a world that conflates territory with gold records and kills with hits.
Shortcomings are all the more noticeable here because, in a play that keeps score by style points, only Ray Wise — reprising his Obie-winning role as Hoss — possesses "star power." Without an actor of comparable savage charm as the upstart, Crow, the world of the play lacks the sense of cosmic equilibrium that its Greek structure suggests. More troubling, if Crow isn't the dynamic force that Hoss and his crew identify him as, all their pronouncements on image and self-delusion qua self-preservation are cast in a dubious light.
Per Shepard's desires, this is the last time his original words and music (subsequently revised) will be performed, making this production, flawed though it may be, a must-see event. When Crow sings, "If I'm a fool then keep me blind/I'd rather feel my way/If I'm a tool for a bigger game/You better get down — you better get down and pray," it's a spine-tingling collision of image, sound, and implication. It's Shepard at the top of his dizzyingly brilliant game.
Presented by La MaMa E.T.C. at the Annex at La MaMa, 66 E. Fourth St., NYC. Oct. 5-21. Tue.-Sun., 7:30 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 2:30 p.m. (212) 475-7710 or www.ovationtix.com. Casting by Tara Rubin Casting.