By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
It was a bright and crisp Durant, Oklahoma, morning and she was sitting at her kitchen table when a dozen red roses arrived for novelist Billie Letts--a gift from her editor in celebration of her arrival at the No. 1 spot on The New York Times best-seller list. Yet the 64-year-old teacher-turned-novelist kept deflecting the subject from herself. Though her visitor was asking all those "how does it feel?" questions about celestial sales of her Where the Heart Is,its being picked as an Oprah Winfrey Book Club selection, the flood of love-poem reviews and word that Natalie Portman and Ashley Judd were going to star in the movie version, she wanted to talk about her actor-playwright son.
While her novel, which eventually would spend more than 40 weeks on the Times list, is a warm, funny, feel-good tale of a charming and pregnant 17-year-old abandoned by her boyfriend in a small-town Wal-Mart, son Tracy's writing has received international acclaim for his exploration of far darker corners of the human condition.
"We definitely write different things," she says. "I try to be upbeat and funny. Everybody in Tracy's stories gets naked or dead." Which is the best tongue-in-cheek review of Killer Joe, currently playing at The McKinney Avenue Contemporary (through December 13), you're likely to read.
Tracy Letts' characters also smoke dope, booze to excess, cuss like sumbitches, live in a shabby trailer house "on the outskirts of Dallas," watch the Home Shopping Network and Road Runner cartoons on their rabbit-eared TV, consider a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and a bag of Doritos fine dining and conspire with a bad-to-the-bone Dallas cop to bump off a pretty sorry excuse for a mother.
This isn't A Tuna Christmas, folks. In fact, with its title character a police officer who moonlights as a hit-man-for-hire, it makes the city's recent fake-dope scandal look like kid stuff. We're not doing a review here, but suffice it to say there are few survivors by the time the house lights go up. Letts' dark-comedy characters give the phrase "white trash" new meaning and steal away any hope he might have of earning praise from the Chamber of Commerce or a citation from the Dallas Police Department.
"I'm absolutely startled--but very pleased--that it is being produced in Dallas," the 48-year-old says from his home in Chicago, where he's a member of the legendary Steppenwolf Theater ensemble and preparing for the November 20 premier of his newest play, Man From Nebraska.
This time his target is suburban Lincoln, where a quiet, happy insurance salesman-father-grandfather wakes one morning to suddenly realize he no longer believes in the Almighty. And next February, his Bug, a dark, paranoid and highly praised love story set in a seedy Oklahoma City motel room, will have its off-Broadway premier after successful runs in London and Washington, D.C.
"All three plays," Letts says, "are about people struggling with moral and spiritual questions. Killer Joe and Bugs have kind of a boiler-room intensity about them while Man From Nebraska deals with a little more subtle kind of pressure."
OK, but why the outskirts of Dallas as the setting for Killer Joe after he admits that he got the idea from a newspaper article about a Florida father-and-son plot to kill the wife-mother for the insurance payoff?
Letts ponders the question for a moment, then laughs. "Revenge," he says.
As a teenager just graduated from Durant High School in the early '80s, he moved to Dallas with high hopes of beginning a professional acting career. "I just couldn't get through the doors," he recalls. "I did a little fringe theater, a few things on Lower Greenville, but mostly I waited tables and worked in telemarketing for two very frustrating years."
If there was, in fact, a highlight to his brief and unhappy stay in Dallas, it came when he successfully auditioned for the part of famed Waco iconoclast William Cowper Brann in late Fort Worth newspaperman Jerry Flemmons' one-man play O Dammit! "It was part of a New Playwrights Series, sponsored by SMU," Flemmons explained before his death in 1999, "and readings were held at the Dallas Public Library. My first reaction upon seeing Tracy was to wonder why in hell they couldn't find someone other than a skinny little high school kid for the part. But he was really good, quite talented."
It was a judgment ultimately shared by the theater community in Chicago to which Letts moved and found an acting home at age 20. He worked steadily at the 29th Street Repertory Theater, the Steppenwolf and Famous Door for the next 11 years. Performing in productions such as Richard Greenberg's Three Days of Rain and Don DeLillo's Day Room, he received rave reviews. "Letts," wrote the Chicago Sun-Times, "is an actor of such blistering intensity that you can almost feel the blood surging between his heart and brain."
Today, Letts' growing list of acting credits also includes work on TV sitcoms such as Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show and Home Improvement and appearances in such theatrical movies as U.S. Marshals. It is, however, as a writer that he has earned his loudest applause. And criticism.