Reexamining American Legends: Hunter S. Thompson and John Wilkes Booth Take Center Stage

Two theater productions staged near Washington, D.C.—“The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical” and “John Wilkes Booth: One Night Only!”—form a theatrical pair exploring American mythmaking. One portrays a figure who witnesses a nation in decay and seeks to jolt it awake, while the other depicts a man who perceives betrayal of foundational ideals and attempts to ignite destruction.

Hunter S. Thompson, known for his disregard of conventional deadlines, confronts an unavoidable one in “The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical,” playing through July 13 at Arlington’s Signature Theater. With a bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and a .45 pistol in the other, the bathrobe-clad gonzo journalist—facing a typewriter dropped dramatically onto the stage—calmly announces to the audience: “It’s February 20th, 2005. The day I die.” Portrayed with wild energy by Eric William Morris, Thompson frantically strives to commit his tumultuous life and the fractured state of America to paper.

Conceived by Joe Iconis (music, lyrics, book) and Gregory S. Moss (book), and directed with anarchic vigor by Christopher Ashley, the production is a high-octane theatrical revival. Morris leads a nine-person ensemble that acts as a Greek chorus embodying demons, muses, and collaborators, guiding the audience from Thompson’s Louisville childhood through his confrontations with the Hells Angels and drug-fueled escapades beneath the surface of the American dream. His Colorado retreat, Owl Farm, serves as both a creative sanctuary and a repository of memories, cluttered with eclectic souvenirs that challenge conventional ideas.

Subtlety was never Thompson’s hallmark, and the musical wisely embraces this, driving forward with an energetic score filled with protest songs, beat-poet bravado, and recurring rock ’n’ roll anthems celebrating outsiders and misfits. The ensemble chants, “All hail Hunter S. Thompson, hail to the freak.” Whether the show offers too much or too little background depends on one’s familiarity with Thompson—a womanizing husband and absentee father who once ran for sheriff of Aspen, staunchly defended gun ownership rights, and harbored a visceral disdain for Nixon, portrayed here as a reptilian figure.

Despite its wild expressiveness, the show also contains poignant quieter moments, such as when a young Hunter (Giovanny Diaz De Leon) reads “The Great Gatsby” and vows to write a more democratic future into existence.

About an hour’s drive north, “John Wilkes Booth: One Night Only!,” playing through Sunday at Baltimore Center Stage, adopts a similar metatheatrical style. Whereas Thompson races toward death, Booth teeters on its brink. The play opens with Booth seated at a player piano, declaring, “I am the author of the most exciting thing to ever happen in American theater.” Given the devastating impact and ongoing fascination with his actions, this claim is difficult to dismiss.

In recent years, Booth has been reimagined in Karen Joy Fowler’s 2022 historical novel “Booth” and the 2024 TV series “Manhunt.” Ford’s Theater frequently stages “One Destiny,” a lean two-person play that examines Lincoln’s assassination through the eyes of ordinary witnesses, largely omitting Booth’s own perspective by design.

In the chaotic “John Wilkes Booth,” writer Matthew Weiner (known for “Mad Men”) places Booth himself at the narrative’s center. Drawing heavily from Booth’s diary and his sister Asia’s memoirs, the play opens as a memory piece. The failed actor (played with a debonair edge by Ben Ahlers) attempts a halting reconstruction of his life, including ominous childhood events, clashes with his disapproving brother Edwin (Robbie Tann)—a celebrated Hamlet interpreter—and frequent interruptions from a beleaguered prompter (Ked Merwin) who struggles to keep the intoxicated Booth on script.

Despite Booth’s grandiose self-mythologizing, Ahlers portrays him more as a fading shadow of a Luciferian antihero—more flamboyant peacock than fallen angel. The production is visually striking, with richly textured lighting by Xiangfu Xiao and elegant period costumes by Orla Long. Under director Stevie Walker-Webb, the play highlights Booth’s delusions but sometimes overemphasizes them; for instance, the recurring gunshot sounds serve as heavy-handed reminders of Booth’s fatal end in a tobacco barn after a 12-day manhunt.

Nonetheless, the play persuasively argues that Booth’s insistence on being remembered as a “saint and symbol” of the Lost Cause only exposes his tragic confusion of infamy with true greatness—an impulse that remains disturbingly relevant today.