A GREAT PERFORMANCE IN
SEARCH OF A BETTER PLAY

Gary Houston towers in a two-hander
that never quite lives up to its premise

Outside a run-down cottage in rural Connecticut, a white-haired man in his 80s sits in a pleather armchair. The ground is littered with balls of paper. A few feet from the chair sits a barrel doing double duty as a trash can and a fire pit. The fuel for the fire is courtesy of the old man’s notepads, which are a seemingly endless source of discarded drafts of the novels he has abandoned over the last several decades.

Henry Percival is a writer of fiction whose biggest success came early in his career—and brought with it controversy. You see, the death of a Black character—the only Black character—in his novel bore a striking similarity to the death of Henry’s wife. Only in the novel, the husband, who is also a writer, is the one who murders her, while in real life, Henry was cleared of any suspicion in his wife’s death. Over time, the controversy fades from the public eye, the tabloids look elsewhere, and absent new publications of worth, Henry is soon forgotten, relegated to literary obscurity, and left to grow old by himself, wrestling with writer’s block as his body succumbs to the insults of old age.

And then one morning, he receives a call: a young, ambitious Black journalist, Xan Smith, would like to interview him. She’s been commissioned to write a brief biography—one in a series—and she’s chosen him as her subject. Percival, who has failed at completing so many novels that he’s now giving a memoir a go, yields.

Thus sets up The Official Biography, a new play by Kurt McGinnis Brown, making its world premiere at The Den Theatre in Wicker Park. Garrett Bell’s set is suitably rustic, depicting a cottage and a yard that have clearly seen better days and, much like their occupant, aren’t long for this world. Sam Bessler’s lighting design bathes the set in blues and shadows so that, regardless of the time of day, the effect is crepuscular. In Henry Percival’s world, it’s always twilight.

Brown sets up his two-hander as a battle between fiction and non-fiction—or more specifically, fiction and “creative” non-fiction, which to my mind is simply a sophist’s description of tabloid journalism, but never mind that. Smith is appalled by fiction and fiction writers in equal measure; in her view, in a world rife with injustices, to dabble in make-believe is the ultimate self-indulgence and privilege. Her contempt for Percival is open, as is his condescension toward her. But they both need money, and they both hunger for fame; she wants to taste it, he wants to reclaim it. It’s a fascinating basis for this uneasy partnership—and one that’s left frustratingly unexplored.

The play is roughly divided into four scenes:
The Intro, where both characters meet.
The Big Reveal, of which I will not speak, even if it’s hardly a surprise.
The Aftermath.
The ugh… Twist.

In between these sections, Smith speaks to an unknown audience—presumably at a talk show or some such—about the writing of the biography and Henry Percival.

Over the course of 140 minutes, the characters talk about their lives, their careers, the biography that Smith is writing, and the books that Percival has failed to write. Richard Shavzin, another veteran of the Chicago theatre scene, does a fine job directing, keeping focus on his two actors—and the actors have genuine chemistry with each other, which is a wonder because the script doesn’t give them much help. Shelby Marie Edwards is handed a character that is less a person than a collection of clichés and buzz phrases. Xan Smith is the sort of character created to be an antagonist. It is to Edwards’ great credit that she manages to give Xan depth and nuance. And for a brief stretch, when Xan confides in Percival, we experience the magic that happens when two actors are perfectly in sync on stage.

Where all of Brown’s efforts have gone is into Henry Percival. Portrayed by Gary Houston, a veteran of the off-Loop theatre scene, Percival is the kind of character actors love to play—and Houston is simply magnificent. His is not a performance that seeks approval. Percival isn’t a lovable asshole. He’s just an asshole. A narcissistic, vainglorious man whose concern is only for his own literary legacy. Yes, he can be charming and witty, but it’s all coolly calculated. Houston keeps his cards very close to his chest, revealing only as much as is needed in that moment. I could watch him for hours.

Houston may have given one of the best performances on stage this year, but the play that surrounds him is also one of the most frustrating. Time and again, Brown picks up tantalizing concepts and abandons them shortly after. The tiresome tendency of (some) readers and critics to conflate events from fiction with those from the lives of its creators drives most of the plot. But that’s all it does here. There is no further examination or introspection of this mindset.

And the less said about the events of the fourth scene, the better. I saw the rug-pull coming from miles away and hoped I would be wrong. It’s a twist that undermines everything good about the previous scenes and casts Percival in an entirely different light. It works for Houston because of his guarded performance, but Edwards gets serious short shrift. I’m still not sure how she pulls off her freakout scene, which features the cringiest dialogue in the play; I look forward to seeing her in a part that makes better use of her stage presence and talent.

As frustrating as this play is, there is much to like here—and above all, I am a critic who adores actors.

You need to go watch The Official Biography because you need to go watch Gary Houston. That is all.

Hop to it.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

photos by Michael Brosilow

The Official Biography
Her Story Theatre
The Den Theatre Upstairs Main Stage, Chicago
Thu–Sat at 7:30; Sun at 3
ends on April 19, 2026
for tickets ($20–$40), call 773.697.3830 or visit The Den

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦