Topdog/Underdog: Scene One Summary & Analysis

In this opening scene, Parks immediately sets the audience up to see Booth as a competitive man who savors the idea of winning. Even though his Three-Card Monte routine is awkward and clumsy, he still imagines himself winning against his opponent. This is an indication that he doesn’t even care to entertain the idea of losing, a fact that suggests losing is, for him, unbearable. As such, he focuses all his mental energies on imagining himself as a winner. In the scenes to come, the audience understands that this is exactly the mentality that renders him so susceptible to deception himself. 

The fact that Booth’s first interaction with his brother involves pointing a gun at him quickly alerts the audience to his violent and aggressive nature. Furthermore, the tableau of a man named Booth aiming a pistol at a man named Lincoln is reminiscent of America’s actual history, since John Wilkes Booth assassinated Abraham Lincoln using a handgun. This image also pits the two brothers against one another, suggesting that—in alignment with their names—they’re natural enemies. 

Booth’s determination to find a ring Grace can’t take off illustrates how possessive he is when it comes to romantic relationships. Indeed, this is a man so insecure about the possibility of losing his lover to other men that he feels he must claim her in a manner that undermines her autonomy. He exhibits a similar insecurity when he scolds Lincoln for dressing strangely in his apartment, revealing that he has an obsession with surface-level appearances. This is perhaps because he isn’t comfortable with who he is—he’s terrified of losing Grace to somebody else, so he does everything he can to present himself as desirable, even if it means micromanaging his brother’s appearance.

It becomes clear in this moment that both of these brothers are comfortable conning and deceiving people. However, the way they each go about deceiving people differs. While Booth straightforwardly steals, Lincoln’s theft is more intellectual, since he cunningly tricks the boy on the bus into parting with his money. As such, Lincoln emerges as the more savvy, intelligent brother, though both of them seem to lack a certain moral compass. 

The brothers’ interesting relationship with history—both personal and otherwise—comes to the forefront in this moment. First of all, the photo album emerges as an important representation of a past about which the audience hasn’t yet learned, though whatever it contains is clearly significant to Booth and Lincoln, since it’s the only book (or book-like object) in the entire apartment. Second of all, Lincoln’s suggestion that Booth change his name to Shango suggests that he—Lincoln—is attuned to the effects of the painful history of slavery on a person’s identity. After all, many African-Americans have changed their names in the past in order to renounce the Anglicized names given to their ancestors by slave owners. What’s more, that Lincoln suggests Booth change his name to “Shango” hints at the nature of Booth’s personality, since Shango is typically known for his rage and fury. On another note, the fact that Booth lies to his brother about the Three-Card Monte table indicates that for some reason he doesn’t want Lincoln to know that he was practicing dealing cards.

Once again, the audience witnesses Booth lying to his brother, though it’s not yet clear why he doesn’t want Lincoln to know he was practicing Three-Card Monte. However, one can intuit from Lincoln’s strong assertion that he doesn’t “touch thuh cards” that he perhaps has a certain distaste for gambling. Furthermore, Booth’s eagerness to bet money even when he doesn’t have a steady income reveals his foolhardy relationship with gambling and perhaps an overly confident attitude when it comes to his ability to beat his brother.

Once again, Lincoln’s aversion to Three-Card Monte comes to the forefront, and Booth’s insistence that they “team up” provides insight into the nature of their relationship: it’s clear their brotherly dynamic includes a power imbalance, since Booth is constantly begging his brother to play cards with him, as if he’s a young boy trying to get the attention of a brother he deeply admires. The more Lincoln refuses, it seems, the more Booth wants them to join forces.

Lincoln’s willingness to go along with Booth’s ludicrous name change suggests that he’s used to tolerating his younger brother’s irrational ideas. Of course, the condescending manner in which he says “Point made, 3-Card” only further reinforces his superiority in their relationship as the older, wiser, and more levelheaded brother. This dynamic only further makes Booth want to work with him, since it positions him as an elder capable of granting approval—something Booth desperately needs. There is, then, a sense of love and appreciation between them, even if this brotherly connection is strained by Booth’s absurd notions and Lincoln’s patronizing concessions.

Finally, Parks reveals that Lincoln has a history of playing Three-Card Monte, as evidenced by both his insider knowledge (his understanding that throwing cards isn’t simple) and his statement that he doesn’t “touch thuh cards no more.” His absolute refusal to return to the world of hustling indicates that there’s something painful in his past surrounding his experience with Three-Card Monte, something that has stayed with him to this day, preventing him all the while from returning to his old ways. On another note, this short exchange also suggests that Booth is not being entirely truthful with his brother about his relationship with Grace—his statement about wanting Grace to be “all over him” again indicates that she’s not actually in love with him (as he claimed earlier), and this deception ultimately leaves the audience wondering why Booth feels the need to lie to his brother about his love life.

The fact that Booth suddenly tells the story of coming upon his mother right before she abandoned the family highlights the extent to which he conflates past trials and tribulations with present-day difficulties. Indeed, faced with his brother’s reluctance to hustle Three-Card Monte with him, he can’t help but think back on one of the (presumably) most painful memories in his personal history, ultimately involving his brother in the complicated relationship he has with his past. When he blames Lincoln for “standing in [his] way,” he sounds like a petulant child, once again reinforcing the strange imbalance of power in their relationship.

Booth’s insistence that “people will know the real deal” even when they’re being hustled in Three-Card Monte gives rise to the idea that even a conman follows a standardized process—if somebody can track this process, then they aren’t necessarily being taken advantage of, though Booth’s reasoning falters here, since nobody who knows the “real deal” would agree to play Three-Card Monte with a hustler in the first place (the entire game is always rigged in the dealer’s favor). Booth also reveals his discomfort with Lincoln’s job as a historical impersonator in this moment, showing that he can’t even fathom dressing up in a way that harkens back to a time when “folks was slaves and shit.” Unlike his own personal history—which he finds painful but can apparently examine without harming himself—Booth is unable to even imagine himself into a racist past, blocking it out entirely rather than acknowledging that it happened.

A tenderness between Lincoln and Booth emerges in this moment. Even though they’ve just had an argument, they quickly recover, complimenting one another and—more importantly—talking about their shared past. When Lincoln tells his brother how their father chose their names, he reminds Booth of their shared lineage, a bond that holds them together despite their differences. As such, their brotherly relationship exposes its own complexities: its balance between tension and mutual appreciation.