Waiting for a Sandwich at Clyde’s: Review of Clyde’s, a play by Lynn Nottage

 

Waiting for a Sandwich at Clyde’s

Review of Clyde’s, a play by Lynn Nottage

At The Huntington through April 23, 2023

By Andy Hoffman

Lynn Nottage – Pulitzer-prize winner for Ruined (2009) and Sweat (2017) – revisits Rust Belt Pennsylvania in Clyde’s, a comedy about hopeful ex-convicts searching for a way forward. Set entirely in the kitchen of a truck-stop sandwich joint called Clyde’s, the play bounces from episode to episode as Rafael, Letitia and new-comer Jason learn about life and sandwiches from master-cook Montrellous. Clyde, the cruel woman owner of the restaurant named for her, lords over the kitchen staff, taunting them with the certainty that none of them have any alternative but to thanklessly work for her. They keep their spirits up by imagining new sandwich recipes, competing among themselves for the most inventive and impressive combination of bread and filling. Dreaming of the perfect sandwich becomes the only release, particularly for Letitia and Rafael. Jason is still getting his bearings in the kitchen. Montrellous seems based on Bernie Glassman, the Zen Buddhist roshi, founder of Greyston Bakery, which has practiced open hiring since opening its door. Glassman also wrote Instructions to the Cook: Zen Lessons in Living a Life that Matters. Glassman clearly helped Montrellous transcend his cage.

Combining the earthy reality of life after prison and the existential hopelessness of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, Clyde’s snaps with humor and the power of kindness in the bleak lives of the kitchen staff. Letitia broke into a pharmacy to steal anti-seizure medication for her daughter – and took narcotics for street sale, which got her caught. Rafael, high on drugs, ineptly tried to rob a bank armed with a BB gun and lines from the movies. Put out of work by unscrupulous union-breaking bosses, Jason violently beat one of the scabs. They all regret their transgressions and want to make good on their lives outside, but they have few options forward. Like Beckett’s Vladimir and Estragon, they only have one another to hold off the despair – one another, and the promise of that perfect sandwich.

Clyde takes brutal pleasure in the control she exerts over her crew. She refuses to so much as taste Montrellous’ masterful creations and remains resolutely deaf to his efforts to make the restaurant something into something extraordinary. Even when Clyde’s gets a surprisingly enthusiastic review in a free weekly, Clyde remains unmoved. Her people burst with pride at being noticed, but Clyde herself just bursts their balloons, only for the purpose of watching their disappointment. This pointless cruelty contributes to the plays resolution, a breakdown of the restaurant’s social structure over the artistic integrity of the sandwich makers. Clyde’s swift movement keeps the audience laughing and thinking until the end.

The production itself impresses with its professionalism. The realistic set plunged me back into the kitchens I worked in decades ago. The lighting and interstitial music helped drive the show forward. And the performances were top-notch, especially April Nixon’s evil Clyde. She’s only on the stage intermittently, but her position as the god of her private hell provides us with the best reason to keep watching. The battle between her guttersnipe world-view and Montrellous’ Buddhist equanimity feel both metaphysical and very real.