Seattleplays.com review By Tom Scanlon					Good Boys ACT Theatre closes Oct. 17
				Who is responsible, when "good boys" go bad -- really, really bad?      Jane Martin (pseudonym) explores this question in our post-Columbine world. Martin’s play, which premiered two years ago with a spine-chilling production in Minneapolis, then as now directed by Jon Jory, aggressively tackles our aggressive society, perhaps attempting to explain the inexplicable.
	Good Boys looks at two fathers and three sons, two of whom are dead. Martin has a terrific understanding of the fathers, Thomas Thurman and James Erskine, played respectively – and, often, spectacularly – by Thomas Jefferson Byrd and Jeffrey Hayenga. One father has tracked down the other, desperately searching for . . . well, perhaps he’s not sure, but he knows that the other’s son has murdered his own. Eight years after a Columbine-like school killing and suicide, the fathers are not so much haunted as being chewed to pieces.       Had Martin kept the action in the present, and confined “Good Boys” to these two characters, this might have been the best American play in years; but Martin introduces three sons and revisits past events, weakening the dramatic structure of the play, and at times flirting with sensationalization.       When the fathers are interacting in the present, the tension is tremendous, the struggle for power palpable; and the dialogue is musical, a wonderful cross between August Wilson and David Mamet. Byrd and Hayenga give performances that are just about as good as it gets in the theater, alternating between the hunter and the hunted, rising to almost exotic levels of conflict.       Martin simply doesn’t know the teen-age kids very well. They are painted with broad strokes, and, of the three younger actors in the cast, only Adam Western is able to give a truly convincing, specific performance; it should be noted that he originated the role of the murdered characters brother, so Western is able to give a nuanced characterization.        Like Martin, director Jory (who many in the theater world suspect is the true Martin) is far more skillful at directing the fathers, who move like powerful heavyweight boxers, than the sons, who skitter around like flyweights.       This play revolves around revolvers, as Martin shows guns on several occasions; they are superfluous, as Martin’s words pack more power than the quick-effect handguns.       Good Boys is always good, very often remarkable, yet . . . One can't shake the feeling that, like a 17-year-old shot dead, it never was given the chance to reach its full potential. A tragedy within a tragedy.