OK, let’s just get that title out of the way right off the bat: The Motherfucker with the Hat.
Take a deep breath, gird your damn loins, say The Word three more times.
There, now. Did the sky fall in? Did you just put a down payment on a one-way train trip to the Hubs of Hell? Feel like washing your mouth out with soap? Or is this just linguistic business as usual?
Truth is, The Word’s just the beginning in Stephen Adly Guirgis’s 2011 dramatic comedy, which is a roomful of foulmouth and a hatful of funny as hell. It rains obscenities like an avalanche of Richard Pryor, like a World Wrestling Federation smackdown, like a construction crew on lunch break, like an editorial meeting at the Dictionary of Urban Slang. Mr. Angle and Mr. Saxon would feel right at home in the play’s coarse company, cutting straight to the chase while the Norman invaders were obsessing over how to brew a proper cup of tea.
And the greater, maybe more surprising truth is that, despite its not-so-casual scatological streak (surely the play’s title is a bigger draw for potential audiences than a turn-off) MoFo is an old-fashioned kind of play – a literary play, one that succeeds not just on the basis of its theme or the quality of its performances but also because of its tightly written, carefully constructed language. Its dialogue is a poetry of the streets, as precise and besotted with sound as the linguistic inventions of an Elizabethan comedy. It’s like music: a symphony for concrete pavement and tenement floorboards and rooftop pigeons and broken dreams. It takes a lot of discipline to create something so free and loose.