While it is easy in 2022 to think of Aaron Sorkin as one of the most accomplished writers of his generation, the same couldn’t be said in the late 80s. When he first premiered A Few Good Men, he was working at a bar and doing what he could to have his name in the circles of noteworthy financiers. By some luck, he met the right people and ultimately got it optioned for a film at the same time. Even with it being one of his earliest works, it sets up an interesting and unique perspective that elevates the courtroom drama into a new and invigorating style that blended dark subject matter with screwball comedy, where the stage was in constant motion transitioning from scene to scene. It was a moment ushering in a new talent, and one that isn’t without some memorable dialogue (“You can’t handle the truth!”). Nobody does it quite like him.
The theatricality of Sorkin’s language has rarely been as recognized as it has on the stage. With a recent run by La Mirada Theater, the group put together a faithful rendition that took the story of a military-based murder and did everything to find the moral complexity that comes with “following orders.” With a stage whose backdrop has the duality of a military base and courtroom, actors ran across the two-story set, finding ways to keep the action moving. The few moments that cut to black used the rapidity of a drum call almost like a rimshot, finding the balance between its reverence for the subject and the humor of its protagonist Daniel A. Kaffee (Doug Harris).
Even if audiences would be quick to call Kaffee an alarming character, it’s only by the strategic setup. Early scenes feature grunts reciting commands of their superiors, their voices hoarse as if worn down. The seriousness of the matter shines through as Kaffee enters the room and has a comedic undertone to his entire show. He quotes movies, and undercuts his fellow troops with playful jabs. He may be eccentric, but Sorkin has written him as more than a Bill Murray-style protagonist. He’s likable, professional even if not well-versed in the law. So much of his performance is about finding the line between insecurity and pushing through to a greater self. Credit to Harris for making his wide-eyed performance have a growing concern underneath that makes the final stretch some of the best theater imaginable, especially opposite Col. Jessep (Andy Umberger) in a particularly heated exchange.
For a story dense with information, the cast manages to keep a pace that allows the audience to stay connected to the material without falling too far behind. Many of the concepts will appear difficult, but through clever writing and delivery, the pieces connect in a manner that allows for accessibility. It’s ultimately a story about humanity and what it takes to be seen as a moral person, and the actions on display reflect this struggle as small decisions come with major conflict. Are the suspects at the center of the story good men, or does the title refer to the superiors who are doing their best to not lose their jobs? Everyone is trying to maintain the image of a just law system, and yet the answer will come with certain sacrifices.
As the light cuts to black, actors run on and off the stage. Some even jog to the other side to line up a perfectly timed shot. Everything has a musical quality to it, where even the less rhythmic scenes feel accomplished in their understanding of language. The repetition allows details to stick with the audience, knowing what to focus on as the cast prepares for an increasingly complicated premise. By some miracle Harris and company deliver an impressively funny punctuation to a lot of the scenes, creating a relatability to a field that many may be removed from. Lawyers in general are supposed to be boring, so to have Kaffee be so eccentric is exciting, and the way he feels out of place as a screwball character only helps to make his triumph all the more thrilling.
The results are methodical and may take a little time to fully reach clarity, but stick with it and the rewards will be bountiful. This is a play that is just as much entertainment as it is a thought-provoking example of commentary on the military. It’s not an attack on the institution, but more on the practices of those involved. How does one try to not abuse power and ultimately be seen as a good leader? Sorkin deftly finds ways to untangle that web and it’s a miracle that he does so with as much sadness (trigger warning: there is a suicide) as he does while still managing to laugh at other times. It’s a delicate ballet that finds language dancing around ideas, finding word choice revealing complicated ideologies of the self, and it becomes most apparent when the artifice drops long enough for an emotional reveal. Sure, part of the fun is the quippy nature, but there’s also some brilliance in watching it all drop out and the harsh truths to shine on a darkening stage.
As mentioned in the program, this is a show that Sorkin has a complicated relationship with. Along with launching his playwright career, it also was one that would be rewritten in different forms (including the film). While this doesn’t have the crispness of his later work, it’s still fun and scrappy in a manner that keeps the audience curious, willing to empathize with an initially jarring character. There’s so much to the interpersonal dynamics that are charming and familiar, allowing these people who appear smart to also be likable and easy to root for as the mountain appears too difficult to climb. La Mirada Theater did a phenomenal job with the work and ranks among some of their finest programming this year. Everyone kept the dizzying pace alive without making it too confusing, and that’s a feat unto itself. Other than that, it was just a great example of the power of a few good performers doing what they do best.
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