Bob Brown

THE bank evicts a family from its home. They load all their belongings in the family pickup and head west looking for work. But there are dozens of applicants for each available job. And there’s not much sympathy for people sinking deeper into poverty. Frustration soon takes over and leads to violence. The only thing left is hope, and even that is on life support.

   This sounds like a story straight from the morning news, one of many such stories in our post-recession era. But it’s the very basic plot of John Steinbeck’s 1939 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about the trials and tribulations of the Joads of Oklahoma. Back in the Great Depression, many families were facing the same fate. Work was scarce, competition was fierce, and big industry had the upper hand in wages. To make things worse, overcultivation had weakened farm production, and a drought further exacerbated conditions, leading to the Dustbowl.

   Steinbeck’s powerful, angry novel earned him many enemies on both the left and the right. It was also the basis for his earning a Nobel Prize for literature decades later. But despite its strident tone and occasional sermonizing, the story endures as a portrait of strong characters who refuse to give up. The Joads personify what politicians like to call “the people.” They’re not all saints. One is out on parole from a murder rap. Some wander away. Like the Biblical Job, they suffer all kinds of calamities and indignities, reacting in different ways. But in the end, their resolve unites them.

   Frank Galati’s Tony Award-winning stage adaptation debuted in 1990. Nearly 20 years later, its themes are freshly relevant as we climb out of another economic hole that has generated armies of the unemployed. This time, the effects are more subtly pernicious. No one is running after each other with axe handles.

   The production by The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey employs 24 performers, veterans and newcomers alike, in the largest cast ever assembled by the company. Marion Williams’ spare, open set-design allows the many actors and musicians free reign to “drive” across country in a Hudson truck, fight pitched hand-to-hand battles, bathe in a river, camp out under the stars, even strut their stuff in a square dance to the tunes of a fine, old-timey string band. And speaking of the music, I must single out Connor Dugan Lezczuk, a young fiddler who knows his way around a hoedown as well as a sentimental ballad. He and string players Jay Leibowitz and Nick Plakias provide the very effective and mood-setting scene transitions.

   The outstanding cast includes several singular performances: Christian Conn is Tom Joad, who is out on parole for a murder he committed in self-defense. As the family hothead, he is a cauldron always threatening to boil over. One of the running jokes is the family’s assumption that he broke out of jail, followed by their disappointment when they learn the truth. Broadway veteran Pearce Bunting brings to life Jim Casy, the ex-preacher and Joad tag-along, who “got a lot of sinful ideas, but they seem sensible now.” Lacking anyone holier, the Joads constantly press him into service for grace or blessings, which he reluctantly bestows. Shakespeare Theatre regulars Wendy Barrie-Wilson and John Little play Ma and Pa Joad as the sort of family bookends; while Pa seems more flustered by the rising difficulties, it’s Ma who exhorts them to keep pushing on. Men look at events as one calamity after another and women see things as a streaming continuity, she philosophizes.

   Some actors double-up on roles: Shakespeare Theatre veteran Jim Mohr is hilarious as Grampa Joad, full of grit and spirit in Act 1 — until he dies. Mohr is resurrected as a ranch bookkeeper in Act 2, quite a different character. James Michael Reilly, a longtime Shakespeare Theatre performer, plays no fewer than four characters, sometimes mean, sometimes sympathetic, sometimes narrating the story.

   Shakespeare Theatre newcomer Susan Maris plays the hapless Rose of Sharon, Tom’s younger sister. Her marriage and pregnancy follow the course of the Joads’ fortunes, all under the same unlucky star. Rose looms large in the play’s poignant denouement, which brings many audience members to tears.

   Steinbeck’s political message was clear. His book was an alarm, calling workers to action against the oppression of Big Agriculture. In the Salinas Valley today, the endless fields of vegetables stretch for miles, but the brutality of Big Agriculture has been tamed since the efforts of Cesar Chavez. The National Steinbeck Center in the town of Salinas is a gleaming testament to the writer’s legacy. It sits at the end of a row of preserved storefronts in the “Old Town” section, with upscale restaurants and tony shops. But until recently, you might not have been able to check out a Steinbeck novel from the local library; public services had fallen on such hard times, that it threatened to close. Salinians wouldn’t let that happen, however, and voted funds to keep the 100-year-old library open. They had hope. That is Steinbeck’s legacy in this powerful and affecting play based on his book.

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  Grapes of Wrath continues at the F. M. Kirby Shakespeare Theatre on the Drew University campus, 36 Madison Ave., Madison, through Nov. 15. Tickets cost $30-$54; 973-408-5600; www.shakespearenj.org