Requiem for a Heavyweight
Chicago Free Press Review

“Requiem for a Heavyweight”
Written by Rod Serling
Showing: Shattered Globe Theatre at Victory Gardens Greenhouse, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave., through March 8
Tickets: $27-$35
Contact: (773) 871-3000; shatteredglobe.org

By Lawrence Bommer
Chicago Free Press theater editor
One of the biggest nuggets from the “golden age of television” is this 50-year-old treasure by Rod Serling, creator of “Twilight Zone.” But here you’ll find no flights of fancy or twists of plot. “Requiem for a Heavyweight” is an earnest, two-hour depiction of loyalty tested and betrayed in the world of prizefighting, a lifestyle Serling knew from the inside out. Authentically gritty in its driving dialogue, Louis Contey’s pile-driving revival is equally heartbreaking as a look at the American dream going down the American drain.

The “heavyweight” is 33-year-old “Mountain” McClintock, a punch-drunk, washed-up pug from Tennessee who was almost a champ. (He was rated No. 5 in 1948.) After 14 years of fighting and 111 bouts (19 knockouts in a row) during which he never took a dive, Mountain suffers sclerotic eyes, cauliflower ears and a messed-up mug. Unable to do anything but fight (though we’re never sure why he couldn’t be a bouncer or coach), Mountain faces a dead end, desperate for help from his long-time manager Maish and a devoted social worker named Grace. But Maish is deep in debt, having bet against his own guy and, thwarting Grace’s hopes to get Mountain work as a boxing instructor at a children’s camp, he wants Mountain to work it off.

That springs the predictable but powerful dilemma at the heart of this very human story, Serling’s version of “Death of a Salesman” and “Elephant Man.” Mountain could have been a contender but, to help out his faithless manager, will he stoop to aping a clown in a fixed wrestling farce? Apparently, Serling himself was ambivalent on the matter, giving a happier ending to the original live T.V. broadcast with Jack Palance and Red Buttons and a grimmer one (which this version echoes) to the film treatment with Anthony Quinn and Jackie Gleason.

But there can be no ambivalence about this superb Shattered Globe revival. Sean Sullivan’s hulking palooka is, despite his bulk, also achingly vulnerable, especially when Paula Steven’s Grace offers Mountain utterly unexpected affection. A hard-boiled, scenery-chewing portrayal that never stoops to lie, Bill Bannon’s Maish is anguish personified, matched by Brian McCartney’s equally larger-than-life gusto as Mountain’s protective trainer. The ensemble could have come straight from a Brooklyn gym in 1956, losing nothing in the time trip, as authentic as the fight posters that surround the canvas square in Kevin Hagan’s well-focused set.