Areas We Cover
Categories
Theater Review: THE WHITE CHIP (Marin Theatre / SF Bay Area)
by Chuck Louden | September 11, 2026
in San Francisco
(Bay Area), Theater
SOBERING THOUGHTS
A funny, affecting recovery comedy
that lingers too long on relapse
Kicking off its 60th season, Marin Theatre presents the Bay Area premiere of The White Chip: A Sobering Comedy of Errors. In the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, there are various traditions in the process of recovery. A “white chip” (similar to a poker chip) is given to newcomers as a tangible symbol of welcoming them to the fold. Most often, by the time a person walks in the door to their first meeting, they’ve already fought a long battle with alcohol and endured horrible consequences. A white chip can also be seen as a sign of surrender. Playwright Sean Daniels has written a semi-autobiographical play about one man’s attempt to find recovery.
Our protagonist is Steven (Benjamin Clark), a “typical” young man who starts out experimenting with drinking as a teenager. By the time he goes off to college, his drinking has progressed to more than just weekend parties. He needs to have a few drinks just to start his day. The consequences are fairly minimal: missing a few classes and dealing with occasional hangovers. “Everyone gets drunk in college” is what he tells himself, trying to rationalize his behavior.
After graduation and entry into the real world of adulthood and responsibility, drinking seems to be the perfect antidote for Steven. Of course, as the frequency of drinking slowly increases, so do the consequences. In this 105-minute one-act, much of the time is devoted to Steven’s self-destructive behavior and repeated attempts to stop drinking. Clark’s performance as Steven is convincing, making it easy to root for him to succeed. Steven frequently addresses the audience directly, narrating his story. There’s self-deprecating humor, pathos, and remorse all thrown in, with him not quite grasping what everyone else can plainly see.
The cast is small: only three actors appear onstage. Lyndsy Kail plays all the female roles, including Steven’s Mormon mother, various girlfriends, and wife. Bay Area theater veteran Danny Scheie plays all of the male roles, from Steven’s ailing father to his favorite bartender and, later, his tough-as-nails addiction counselor. Both actors do an amazing job in their multiple roles. With little more than a sweater, jacket, or hat, they create distinct characters through changes in accent and mannerism.
Every story about recovery ends in one of two ways: the main character either dies or gets sober. My personal bias, as someone who has been sober for decades and worked in the field of recovery for 15 years, is that stories of slow self-destruction are not as interesting or as funny as their tellers think. The story, although well told and containing comedic moments, gets bogged down with too many anecdotes of falling off the wagon and slowly finding his way back on the road to recovery. To me, the part that is frustrating but more interesting and thought-provoking is what happens after getting a white chip. The CBS sitcom Mom, starring Allison Janney, ran for eight seasons and managed to show the hardships of recovery with pathos, love, and humor, as well as the sober community one finds along the way.
Director Lance Gardner, himself a recovering alcoholic, draws complex performances from all three actors. Worth mentioning is Christopher Fitzer’s dark, multilevel set. As a backdrop, there are multiple rows of opaque wine bottles. When the actors are actively drinking, the bottles light up, creating a bright visual image that illustrates the initial feeling of euphoria after the first drink.
The White Chip covers a lot of ground, but its most important point may be that recovery from alcoholism is not a one-time event. Getting the white chip is only the beginning.
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
photos by David Allen
The White Chip
Marin Theatre
397 Miller Avenue in Mill Valley
ends on Sept. 20, 2026
105 minutes, no intermission
for tickets ($39–$110), call 415.388.5208 or visit Marin Theatre
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦






