The Forum

On August 17, I had the opportunity to watch a production called “Big Machine” at the Marcelle, a local theater in St. Louis. It’s a beautifully written musical about the violent and sordid history of leaded gasoline and the factory workers who had to endure producing it.

For those unaware, a compound called tetraethyl lead, branded as Ethyl by its manufacturer, was once a widely used gasoline additive. It was used to prevent engine knocking in the early days of cars and make them run smoother but was phased out decades later due to its devastating biological effects. Notably, it had a potent effect on the brain.

Playwright and Music Director Colin Healy was first inspired to write “Big Machine” when he listened to an episode of an American history podcast that he enjoys called “The Dollop.” The episode focused on the history of tetraethyl lead, specifically the man that introduced it to the automotive industry–and the lead role of “Big Machine:” Thomas Midgley Jr.

Fascinated by the story and the decades of harm that Midgley caused with just one chemical, Healy began researching Thomas Midgley Jr. and his product, Ethyl, and found reports of riots by workers at factories producing Midgley’s chemical. Tetraethyl lead is known to cause irritability, hallucinations, and erratic behavior, and some of the violence at Ethyl factories has been attributed to these symptoms. A notable instance of an Ethyl-induced riot occurred at a factory in Ohio, where factory workers, sick from the fumes produced by the chemical, began to hallucinate that a storage room was full of butterflies and became highly protective of it; these delusions eventually lead to a deadly riot.

Colin Healy was specifically inspired by the butterfly room story to write a historical fiction musical about factory workers pushed to insanity and violence by Midgley’s tetraethyl lead, originally naming his play “The Butterfly Room,” though he would later rename it “Big Machine.” Healy’s play does not simply explore chemical-induced violence, though. Big Machine’s plot and catchy music features deep and complex relationships, political conflict, labor organization, and a devilishly charismatic rendition of Thomas Midgley Jr. as the musical’s lead villain played by actor Al Bastin.

Migley opens the play by bursting out of a crate on stage in his characteristic red pantsuit and giving a used-car-salesman-esque sales pitch about his new miracle chemical. He returns every few musical numbers to tell the story of how he got to where he is today, blame factory riots on Communists and the rising labor movement, occasionally hold signs displaying the setting of a history lesson, and even to “prove” the safety of Ethyl by bathing in it–a reference to an actual press conference that the real Thomas Midgley Jr. hosted where he poured Ethyl over his hands and inhaled its fumes to “prove” the same point.

Every other character in the play had their own simultaneous and fascinating plot. Ernest Olsen, played by Parker Miller, is a single father struggling to care for his young daughter while grieving his dead wife and working at the Ethyl factory. His daughter, Grace, played by young actress Maliah Strawbridge, struggles at school but dreams of becoming an engineer, being an incredibly talented tinkerer. Ernest struggles with alcohol abuse, and eventually begins day-drinking at work, encouraged by Mack Hiltman’s enigma of a character, Ethyl. Meanwhile, Grace skips school and goes to her father’s work and helps the factory workers repair the titular “big machine,” eventually meeting with disastrous consequences.

Ethyl, played by Mack Hiltman, is the personification of Midgley’s tetraethyl lead. She’s a hallucination that appears to various characters throughout the play, and generally assists characters with their most irresponsible acts; she flirts with Ernest and encourages him to drink, she adopts the persona of Migley’s mistress and helps him with his stunts, and she appears to Grace at one of her lowest moments.

Rosie, a jaded, cynical union organizer played by Corrinna Redford works with Gilda, a peppy, optimistic, newly radicalized Communist to try to organize the factory. The two are nearly inseparable and play their roles incredibly well, warming the audience’s heart with their romantic arc near the end.

Methuselah, played by Christopher Plotts, is the self-loathing middle-manager who runs the factory. He’s estranged from his family due to his work, but half-heartedly hopes that by working, he will one day be successful and return to them. Even though his character is detestable in many ways, Plotts manages to convince you to “Pity the Middleman,” as his main song puts it.

The cozy and close atmosphere makes you feel close and with the cast, creating a strong bond with Ernest and deep hatred for Thomas. It enchanted me. Their emotions became our emotions; their loss became our loss. There’s just something enthralling about the actors looking you in the eye while their characters are driven to madness while singing heartbreaking laments. The presentation of the story was excellent; the light ques and music were always on point and accentuated the work of the amazing actors whose hearts and effort definitely could be felt in their roles.

After the show, we were able to catch up with lead actor Al Bastin, who had a lot to say about their character, their identity, and their experience on stage: “As someone who has faced the consequences of his actions. in a way it’s like coming face to face with generational trauma. I’m not related to Thomas, but the thing about him is it could’ve been anybody. That’s why I’m in this role. With the world that we live in, people make choices like this all the time. It’s in the understanding of those choices that is fascinating to me.” Much of acting is coming to understand who exactly you are playing, according to Bastin, and they understood Midgley as a man who wanted to change the world: “Thomas Midgley Jr. was forged by the world around him, with harm that went both ways. He just decided to harm the world back, tenfold.” After watching this musical, I completely understand what Al Bastin was saying.