A classic play is a classic play for a reason. The script is solid and it still speaks to us across the ages. So it is with “Lion in Winter”. Director Brian Pastor’s take on James Goldman’s venerable script is filled with seething passion that boils just below the surface of the very regal and hoping-to-be-regal characters’ faces.
The cast, headed by Brian Parry as King Henry and Elaine Carlson in the role of Eleanor, is made up of a group of actors whom I have come to respect through their other work around town. So, it was a joy to see them all working together in concert to create a show so fully developed. Parry and Carlson banter back and forth with barbs worthy of Benedick and Beatrice. Really they surpass the Shakespearean and go to a level beyond. These are a king and queen who are battling for control of the country, for the future of their sons, and for each others’ love. And when it comes down to it, they’ve been at this battle long before the play started. This is epic political warfare being waged. There are subtleties and nuances at play here that only a skilled hand can bring to the fore, and Parry and Carlson do just that.
Jared Dennis as the somber Richard and Nick Lane in the role of Geoffrey are perfectly cast in their roles. I now have an imprint in my mind as to what those two princes must have been like thanks to these two portrayals. Only Tom Murphy’s turn as Prince John rubbed me the wrong way. He was far more presentational than his compatriots, which made his character stick out. I suppose that might have been an intentional choice, but whether it was or not, he distracted from the content of the scenes he was in. I’ve enjoyed Murphy in past roles (most notably in last year’s “With Love and a Major Organ” at Strawdog), so I was disappointed that this wasn’t his strongest work.
Nevertheless, the pacing and the action of this play was perfect for the cerebrally challenging work that it is. Politics and scheming are difficult to make engaging and personal, but the Promethean crew make the mechanations of governance and control into riveting theatre. In addition to the acting, one thing that I’ve always found important in creating an environment for the positive reception of a difficult work is the soundscape that informs the audience’s reaction. Ben Sutherland’s sound design and original score set a perfect tone for what is happening on stage.
This is not a short show, as many scripts are these days. It comes from a time when we would sit for longer and listen more carefully. Because of that, I was thoroughly impressed that Pastor’s cast kept me engaged the entire time, never letting their energy fade for a moment. This is a refreshing take on a script that many have come to know as a favorite. Well done!
TEN WORD SUMMARY: Classic play about politics and family shines with fresh energy.
Over the years, I’ve come to expect good things from Porchlight Music Theatre, and “Dreamgirls” certainly kept up with my expectations. The musical, which has had success on both stage and screen, is a high energy tour through the lives of a fictitious 1960s girl group akin to the Supremes. The group goes through the highs and lows that come with fame and fortune.
The entire cast, headed by Donica Lynn, Candace C. Edwards, and Katherine Thomas as the titular group, is splendid. The musicianship is universally high quality, and Brenda Didier’s staging moves with an effortless energy that carries the action along just shy of break-neck pace. Were everything a step slower, it wouldn’t click. Were it all a step faster, everything would blur together. What Porchlight has accomplished here is nigh on perfect.
Eric Lewis is rapidly cementing himself in my line-up of favorite Chicago performers. I’ve reviewed him before in the Marriott’s “Seussical” and BOHO’s “Parade”. In the role of Jimmy Early here, he continues in a pattern of charismatic, powerful characters with remarkable pipes. While his character is largely a plot device to show the evolution of the career of the ladies, he imbues it with a pathos that resonates beyond the world of a soul singer. Lewis’ Jimmy is one of the characters with which is it most easy to empathize.
Another hero among the cast is Gilbert Domally, who plays C.C. White. As the brother of one of the group’s singers, he is the foil to her own tumultuous voyage. And together Domally and Lynn form the spine of this work. We root for them to succeed, and when things go wrong, we root for them to come back together and make it all okay again.
So much of this show is carried by the three (really, four — Kyrie Courter plays a new addition to the group in the 2nd act) ladies, that I find myself wanting to point out each of the smaller roles for how well those actors did. But, this review would be of immense length if I did that. Suffice it to say that everyone was cast exactly right, and performed even better than expected.
If attending this show, you’ll probably want to sit in the middle section (the thrust stage has about half of its seating divided on either side of the performance space). It is clear that some numbers were staged specifically to be seen from that angle. But, seeing the show from the side (as I did) doesn’t diminish the experience all that much.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: I can’t get the theme song out of my head!
Venue: Piccolo Theatre (600 Main Street, Evanston)
Die Roll: 13
As one walks into the Piccolo Theatre space, one can’t help but notice Sarah Lewis’ set design. The stage in the particularly small space is in an in-the-round configuration. There are two modified chaise style couches in the center of the room that form a sort of yin and yang circle through which is it evident that the action of the show will flow. On the East wall of the space, splitting the audience seating in twain, is a multi-level wet bar which makes it clear that social drinking will play a major part in this show. The design is pleasant and indicates an upper-class domain. But the primary thing that captures the attention of everyone who enters the space is a squarish, white bowl that holds over a quart of Skittles (side note to my wife who doesn’t do imperial measurements: “That’s about a liter, dear”). That bowl of Skittles becomes a star of this play long before the lights come up on the action. Audience members comment to each other about it across the floor. Loudly. Over the twenty minutes I sat in the space prior to the show, I eventually watched just about every member of the audience get up, go to the concession stand/box office, and return with a box of Skittles and/or Reese’s Pieces (I assume that some people prefer their small round candy to be of a non-fruit variety). I was not exempt from this behavior. I was amazed at this bit of human behavior. There was an entire show prior to the real show that is all to blame on the not-so-subtle suggestive action of a bowl of candy.
Anyway… As things get moving, the bowl of candy does play a much more passive role in this play. Characters occasionally nab a couple of pieces and pop them in their mouths between lines of dialog, just as anyone in any normal setting would. It makes for beautifully natural moments that are seamlessly incorporated into the play. Within this play there are many of those moments which capture the comfortable and habitual bits of real life that put a very real spin onto Moliere’s satiric comedy of manners from the 17th century.
Director Michael D. Graham clearly paid attention to all the little details in this production, and that level of focused care makes the comedy ring true despite a complicated script by Martin Crimp that embraces Moliere’s original verse structure but updates the piece to the modern era. Instead of the intrigues of a set of Marquises in France at a time 100+ years before Napoleon, we get a set of actors, writers, and socialites who hover around the world of London’s West End. The names, with the exception of the titular misanthropic character of Alceste (Ben Muller), have all been changed. There is no Clitandre here. Instead we get Alexander (Joe Beal).
As a cultural translation Crimp’s script is brilliant. The rhythm and tone of the rhyme scheme is spot on in mimicking the scansion of Moliere’s own patter. But that doesn’t at all hamper the inclusion of cell phones, and references to current societal conveniences. Current vernacular swirls about fluidly, gracefully, and (when appropriate) coarsely.
One character does not make the leap from the original work into this one. Alceste’s manservant who traditionally provides much of the farcical comedy has no corresponding character here. And that puts the onus directly on the other characters to bring the funny. And they do. But, it isn’t the same funny. But, then, it also isn’t the same century, and our view of the play’s content differs in this day and age. Sure, Alceste claims to hate all mankind. But, we aren’t following the escapade of a strict moralist who suffers the weakness of having fallen in love. No. We watch as a self-righteous, emotionally abusive, jerk gets his due… in due time. Instead of being surrounded by buffoonery, he interacts directly with his world and vicious, rapier-like exchanges cut him as often as he strikes others with his wit.
Muller rises admirably to the challenge of playing a character that has to carry the show while being primarily a one-note melody. The character doesn’t really grow throughout the play, nor does he have much depth to him, but Muller makes Alceste come alive in a way that brings more to the stage than was originally on the page. I have known the man that Muller plays. He is familiar to me. It isn’t comfortable to watch as Muller’s character expresses his need to control his girlfriend Jennifer (the Célimène analog, played quite convincingly by Callie Stephens). And it is that discomfort that rings true. Muller’s Alceste isn’t a good person. He is trying to be one, but his true nature is so inherently flawed that even his best efforts are completely misguided. We can empathize with him a little, but only just enough to make him real, rather than a cartoon. He never becomes the one for whom we are cheering.
The verse lines flow off of Muller’s tongue so naturally that one might think that he often speaks thus in real life. In fact, this is a trait that is shared throughout this cast. Not every actor approaches the rhymes in the same manner, but all of them do it as naturally as if talking in poetry was an integral part of all English communication.
There are times when the show gets dark in its message. This is fitting, as it is the consequence of the world into which the play has been translated. I really think it works.
One of the first plays that I worked on just after college was another “The Misanthrope” which was of a much more traditional bent. The play has a sentimental spot in my heart, but I never really enjoyed the play itself all that much. That is no longer the case. This new translation and Graham’s cast’s realization of it has greatly raised the play’s place in my esteem. This is now a morality play for a new age that addresses something much more relevant than the silliness of court life in the 1600s.
The script is clever. The actors are stellar. The direction is painstakingly exact and insightful. There isn’t a thing that I can say against this production. Man! I want some Skittles.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: A Moliere translation for a new generation. This play matters.
It’s been 22 years since Rent first came on the theatrical scene and “Seasons of Love” became the most overplayed song in every theatre kid’s CD collection. Despite owning a copy of the original Broadway cast recording, I was never really driven to see the show. Over the last 20 years I’ve seen plenty of copycat musicals, ones that through obvious aping of the musical stylings of Jonathan Larson, hoped to catch a bit of the magic that made the updated “La Boheme” the biggest stage hit of the 1990s.
Last week, I finally sat down in the audience of a production of “Rent”, and I’m glad to say that it wasn’t as a huge production. In fact, the intimacy of director Scott Weinstein’s staging is something that makes this play truly sing to me. Theo Ubique’s cabaret atmosphere and spacing is always something of a challenge, but it is also one that they almost always successfully conquer. With “Rent” the staging feels so natural to the play and to the space, that one might think that the work was written specifically to be done just this way.
The environment into which the audience is immersed is created thanks to Adam Veness’ set, and also to an impressive team of street artists who brought an exciting array of wall art into the space. There is a dilapidated industrial feel to the entire thing. Into that creative vessel, Weinstein pours his young cast and they fill it up.
I mention that the cast is young, largely because they are all age appropriate to the parts that they are playing. That also means that they are mostly newcomers to the Theo Ubique stage. None of the regulars whom I’ve become accustomed to seeing in their work were present. And though those familiar faces are always well appreciated, it is nice to see a full compliment of young, powerful performances on this stage.
The cast is headed by Matt Edmonds (the only member of the cast with whose work I was previously familiar) as Mark. He narrates the action, making a documentary film of his friends’ lives as squatters in a broken down New York City loft. Edmonds infuses Mark with a solid and comfortable confidence that allows him to carry the show on his shoulders. The rest of the cast is very good as well. In fact, there isn’t a weak spot in the group. That includes the ensemble members. Mimi (Savannah Hoover) is intriguingly dangerous. Courtney Jones is liquid sex as Maureen. Nicole Michelle Haskins gives a performance as JoAnne that makes the character rival Mark as the glue that holds the show together.
Much of the action takes place on three main platforms at the front of the house, yet some of the most refreshing moments are when actors perform at various places throughout the tiny theatre’s house. And, when the songs call for the full ensemble to sing, and the cast is standing at all the points of the compass, the sound is nigh on perfect. Whether it was Weinstein or music director Jeremy Ramey who positioned the actors for those numbers, they nailed it. The blend of voices was wonderful. You know how back in the late 80s we were told that the sound of a CD was like sitting amongst the orchestra? Well, that’s what this was like. I could have sworn I was sitting in the midst of the CD recording session of these songs. It was fantastic.
I wholly and completely recommend this production, even if (like me) you have avoided seeing “Rent” prior to now. This is what this musical should be.
TEN WORD SUMMARY:Play and venue meld together perfectly in this intimate production.
Normally, I am able to whip out a review within a few hours of seeing a show. My routine when seeing a show goes something like this:
Get to theatre half an hour before curtain
Meet my theatre buddy of the moment who is attending with me
Go get a drink with my theatre buddy of the moment, and discuss what we just saw.
Go home and write review in about an hour.
If I am writing a review for a show that I don’t like, it takes me less time to write than for one that I do like. I blame the longer time for a positive review on the fact that I have to find just the right way to explain why a show affected me in a way that is not only valid, but important. Twice in the last year, the time a review has taken me to write has extended into what could be called a really long time. Such is the case with this review of Redtwist Theatre’s current production of “The Drawer Boy”. The reason I’ve taken a week to get my thoughts coherently arranged on this play, is that I’m still processing a massive melange of thoughts and feelings that were evoked by the script, the performances, and the perfect staging. Without reading further, you can probably guess that this play, under the direction of Scott Weinstein, will be receiving my highest possible rating. Yet, I encourage you to read on, for I’d like to share my thoughts with you. I’m still working through them, so it’s likely that my thoughts won’t be nearly as cogent or coherent as the play itself.
As you may know, Redtwist Theatre is a tiny space in the Edgewater neighborhood. They recently have made plans to expand into a second storefront adjacent to their current space, but as of this moment, it’s a really small theatre, and so it is always impressive to see the scope of productions that they can make happen. With the limited space, they create an entire world and immerse you in the environment fully. The world of “The Drawer Boy” is a farm in rural Canada in the year 1972.
The specific setting is the kitchen and front porch of a single farmhouse inhabited by two aging farmers and their house guest, an actor (Aaron Kirby) who has come to town to learn about farming and create a play about the people and animals involved.
The farmers, Morgan (Adam Bitterman) and Angus (Brian Perry), are lifelong friends who grew up together, went to war together, returned home together, and now live together. Angus suffered some brain damage during the war (World War II) while the two were stationed in England. Since then, Morgan has been a sort of caretaker for his friend.
There are only three characters in this play. And yet, there are truly more. Sure, the dialogue leads to mentions of others in the community, but they are not of whom I speak. No, I’m talking about the set and the soundtrack. From the moment that the lights rise, the house in which the characters live is a character unto itself. Eric Luchen’s set fills the space with a beautifully rendered country kitchen. The individual boards of the front porch feel as if they’ve been there for years. The old refrigerator and stove feel like they’re both cared-for and lived-in. It is a kitchen in which Angus makes sandwiches. He makes a lot of sandwiches. And it feels right for him to casually and constantly operate within these walls. The clapboard siding that extends off stage gives a sense that the rest of the house really is there. It is a house that has meant much to the two friends, and you get the sense that it is their entire world.
Karli Blalock’s soundscape includes the songs that come from the kitchen radio as well as the sounds from around the farm. One of the most vivid moments within the play is created entirely off stage as we hear Morgan attempting to teach Miles to drive a tractor. The recording and mixing of that scene makes it seem like we were on the farm in hearing range of the event. It is impressive. There is something special about seeing a show that can make you feel as if you’re within the world that it is creating. Sure, the acting is important in creating that illusion, but really well executed technical aspects take things to a whole other level, and the sound and set in this play definitely do that.
Another piece of the puzzle that allowed this world to envelop me is the dialect work. Canadians don’t really tend to sound too far different from Americans. It would be easy to do this show in standard American dialects and not worry about the subtle differences that make the citizens of Canada sound distinctly different than your average Midwesterner. But, the work done by the actors and dialect coach Elise Kauzlaric is clearly evident. They consistently reinforced the play’s universe.
Now… All of those aforementioned aspects of the production were integral to making this play experiential for me, rather than just observational. And that would have made for an affecting piece of theatre unto itself, but the true effect of this play is in its story of personal myth-making.
Most of us live within a myth of our own making. We are the heroes of our own stories. Or, if not the heroes, then at least the protagonists. None of us look at ourselves without some sort of subjective filter that we apply in order to get through the daily drudgery. Seldom do we confront the whole truth of who we are, because we aren’t even capable of it. We tell ourselves stories of who we are and we believe them. At our most basic level, we are those stories.
Michael Healey’s “The Drawer Boy” is a play about the stories that help us know who we are. More importantly, it is a play about what happens when someone lives within the memories that are created through someone else’s stories. Angus’ head wound, which occurred in England during WWII, has left him with little to no short term memory. He is skilled at mathematics, and he’s a gentle soul who bakes and prepares food for his best friend. He likes to hear stories. One story in particular is his favorite, the story of the Farmer Boy and the Drawer Boy (Morgan and himself, respectively). This is probably the best place to mention that I had always thought the title of this play referred to drawers in a cabinet or dresser, not a person who draws. But, seeing the play clears that up after about half an hour or so. Anyway… Morgan has spent many nights over the last thirty years telling Angus the story of how they grew up, ran away to the army, fell in love with two British girls, and how they came home again. The story isn’t necessarily a happy one, but it rings with truth. The problem is, it isn’t true. Much of it is based upon things that really happened to the men, but because Angus can’t remember much, Morgan has been free to alter the details and create a better story.
For Angus, that story is his world. His world is constructed around the falsehoods that Morgan put into the story. Those falsehoods are only discovered when Miles, the actor, appropriates the tale for his show after overhearing it one night. Seeing the story performed by someone else unlocks some blocks in Angus’s mind, and eventually leads to some repressed memories surfacing. That’s really an over-simplification of the plot, but I don’t want to recite the play to you. It would be better for you to make the trip to Redtwist to experience it for yourself.
There are so many issues addressed in this play. It’s a tale of well intentioned brainwashing. It is a story about repressed memories. It is an exploration of what it means to be a friend. It is an inquiry into who gets to protect who, and what is fair. It is a challenge to those who believe they have a right to force others to confront their truths and falsehoods. It is a study of love, loss, human frailty, and human responsibilty, all mixed into a little bit of hope and clinging to what give us meaning. If everything is subjective anyway, then what is truth? It isn’t easy to encapsulate, but it is important, vital, and vibrant.
As this is getting to be a long article, I’ll put this in a nutshell for you: This play made me feel and think. That’s sort of the goal of all theatre, really. How this production stands out is that it makes me feel and think still, over a week later. I believe I’ll be parsing through those thoughts for some time, sorting through the feelings many months from now. It is beautifully written, wonderfully staged, and skillfully acted. I’ll recommend it to anyone who’ll give me a moment to mention it.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: We each live in a myth of memory. But whose?
Representing authentic characters on stage is hard work. Just generally. Creating authentic characters from a region that is often treated to stereotyping and near parody when presented on Northern stages is remarkable work. Evan Linder’s “Byhalia, Mississippi” is a very real look at the people of Northern Mississippi (the part a stone’s throw from Tennessee and Arkansas). It’s a corner of the country that many from the Midwest would look down upon as being populated by racist hillbillies. And, sure, there have been racial issues in that area, and still are. But, that’s true here in Chicago, too. One of the beautiful things about this play is that it addresses a plethora of social and political issues, but does so subtly by focusing on the characters and making them as real as possible.
Back when I was in grad school for playwriting, one of my professors maintained that no matter what else was true about your script, none of it mattered without the characters. Well drawn characters can tell just about any story and make it moving. Addressing issues makes something a platform, creating characters makes it a play. Linder would have aced that professor’s class. His characters are real people. They have real problems. They have real feelings. They speak in very real cadences that bring the viewer into the world of the play. This is a really well-crafted work.
When that script with great characters is then put on the stage with great care, you get a show like this one, which is surely the best that I’ve seen in a while, not just in the brief beginnings of 2016.
When entering the Den’s upstairs main stage, one has to walk across a sliver of the gravel path up to the house of Jim and Laurel Parker (played by Linder and Liz Sharpe, respectively). This is a momentary, tactile introduction to the physical environment created by John Wilson’s set. The house is clearly not part of an upper-class existence, and it helps define the characters before we even meet them. Jim and Laurel are struggling. Laurel’s mother Celeste (Cecelia Wingate) is the first person we meet who regularly points that out. But, it is evident from the get-go. So, at lights-up, this is a play about class struggle. Poor, working people trying to make it in a world that is trying to keep them down. Laurel is pregnant. Sharpe’s movement work captures the carriage of a woman atop her due date accurately enough that those who have been with child, or those who have lived with a woman ready to be done with their pregnancy, may have difficulty telling that she isn’t really in a motherly way.
Celeste doesn’t care for Jim, and isn’t quite about it. So, now we have a play about family dynamics. Also, Celeste is not of the lower class, and didn’t raise her daughter to be. And now, we have a play not only about class struggle, but class conflict. For much of the first scene, that is what the play appears to be. But, then there’s a sharp turn that takes us down a new road. Laurel gives birth (off stage, thankfully). We don’t see her or the child for a while. Instead, we see Jim come home in despair. His best friend Karl (Jeffrey Owen Freelon Jr.) has been decorating the house for the baby’s arrival. Almost as soon as he’s through the door, Jim attacks Karl. You see, Karl is a black man, and the child that came from Laurel’s womb is black, not white like Jim. So, now we have a play about infidelity. A play about race. A play about betrayal. But, most importantly, it is at this moment that the seeds of the play’s real arc are planted. This is really a play about forgiveness: seeking it, wanting it, giving it, withholding it, rejecting it. Each of these characters has opportunity to forgive and be forgiven. This isn’t a religious thing. It is a personal one that resonates at a most basic level.
Director Tyrone Phillips guides his cast through all of the surround issues deftly. Each is touched upon in ways that indicate how much an inherent part of life they are, without employing a moral sledgehammer to talk about them. From the moment the baby is born, myriad issues around the topic of race come to the fore. Ayesha (Kiki Layne) is the wronged wife whose husband fathered Laurel’s baby. She directly raises the issue of white privilege when comparing her life and Laurel’s. She also addresses assumed racial roles by calling Karl an Uncle Tom, a move which shifts his perspective, rocks his world, and has massive repercussions on all the characters’ lives.
This is complex stuff. Everything is there all the time, the tough issues are just under the surface of every moment, and they come through with regularity, but through skillful direction, the play never slams into an issue with enough force to derail the action. At one point there is a stutter-step in the flow, as the audience audibly reacts to Celeste’s declaration that she is not racist. However, outside of that, the underlying issues propel the story and leave topics for thought and discussion in the minds of the audience members. That’s a huge accomplishment. I don’t need to be slammed over the head about most of the problems in “Byhalia, Mississippi”. I need to care about the characters, to see their struggles as real, and to see realistically how they are all affected by the issues at hand.
Do I come away thinking about the racial problems in the rural south? Yes. But, I come away with perspective on how they affected a small group of individuals. Some of whom are ready to forgive each other for their mutual sins. Some who will be ready someday. And some who will never forgive. And because they struggle with a very personal and very real issue of forgiveness, this becomes a play that I cannot forget.
TEN WORD SUMMARY:How, when, and why do you choose to forgive someone?
Venue: Mercury Theater Chicago (3745 N. Southport Ave)
Die Roll: 17
When John Reeger and Julie Shannon wrote “The Christmas Schooner”, they penned a musical that really is the perfect holiday show for Chicago. Sure, if you look at what is offered in this market as holiday fare, you might assume that sketch comedies on holiday themes are what we want, but that’s not the case at all. We want what everyone wants at this time of year: a bit of nostalgia, a bit of cheer, and a holiday show that we can relate to. And we can certainly relate to a play set in Chicago itself… well, at least, part of it is set in Chicago. This musical, under the direction of L. Walter Stearns, is a vibrant, celebratory, and touching look back into a simpler time when Christmas trees weren’t made of plastic, and when men risked their lives to spread holiday cheer by sailing a ship full of firs from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
It is easy to become jaded by Christmas shows, especially for those of us who have made the business of holiday productions our livelihood. But, that just makes it all the more special when a show comes along that rekindles the holiday spirit in our own hearts. “The Christmas Schooner” did that for me. When the scene first opens on a family’s home in the UP, we meet Alma (Brianna Borger), Karl (Peyton Owen), and Gustav (James Wilson Sherman). Life seems pretty good for this group, especially when they are then joined by Alma’s husband (and Karl’s father), Peter (Stef Tovar). Peter is the captain of a ship who fondly remembers his childhood Christmas celebrations in Germany. And, because a cousin in Chicago writes him about how she misses those bygone times around the tree, he conceives the idea of an annual trip to sell Christmas trees in the Windy City.
This is a story about standing for something that means something. It is a story about faith, trust, honor, and hope. And when it comes down to it, it is a story about family and legacy. What can each of us do in our lives to matter when we’re gone? Peter Stossel made a massive difference in hundreds or thousands of people’s lives through his Christmas Tree Ship. Within the play we only get to see a tiny handful of his customers. What we see more of is the group of people around him: his family, his crew, and the people whom he touched directly. And it is clear that one man can make a huge difference in people’s lives for the good.
This story would stand on its own no matter the production qualities, but in the hands of Mercury Theater Chicago, it is elevated to something special. Jacqueline and Richard Penrod have made a set that does admirable double duty as both the Stossel home and the “Rouse Simmons” (Stossel’s ship). It allows the cast to inhabit the two worlds seamlessly, and captures both the comfort of the warm hearth, and the exciting danger of the open expanse of our inland freshwater sea.
I didn’t come away from the performance with any specific song stuck in my head. This isn’t a musical filled with catchy hooks. The music here is such that it bypasses the part of your brain that grabs firmly onto pop tunes. Instead it goes straight to the heart. Each time singing entered the picture, it was because that was exactly the right way to tell that part of the story. The music of this musical resides in a world where singing is a completely natural way to express oneself. That’s wonderfully refreshing.
I know why theatres put on holiday shows, and why they bring the same ones back year after year. Much of that has to do with money. But, not all of it does. Just as Peter Stossel and his crew discovered on their first trip to Chicago, there are some traditions that are worth doing year after year for their own sakes. And I believe that Mercury Theater Chicago has found one of those traditions in this show. I know that I’ll be back next year, for sure.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: Some traditions are worth saving. Others are worth spreading everywhere.
Venue: Collaboraction’s Room 300 Theater at the Flat Iron Arts Building (1579 N Milwaukee Ave)
Die Roll: 4
This is the second play that I’ve seen in a month that had graphic sex on stage. “Animals Commit Suicide” doesn’t have a special choreographer for the sex acts in the play. And yet, the acts appear natural and real. That’s actually how the entire show seems. Natural and real. In a town known nationally for the gritty realism that was born at places like Steppenwolf, I have yet to see a better example of the genre than what is put forth by Hutch Pimentel and his cast.
J. Julian Christopher’s script is about a man named Chase (Nik Kourtis) who is on a quest. He frequents parties at which HIV-positive hosts attempt to infect the guests. He goes to these parities on purpose. He is what is known as a bug-chaser. For whatever reason, Chase wants to get AIDS, so he engages in behavior that will likely lead to his needing AZT and the rest of the drug cocktail that such a diagnosis will require for the rest of his life.
Chase has issues. A lot of them. But, he doesn’t want to take them up with the psychologist/clinic worker (Ashley J. Hicks) who frequently encounters him at the free testing clinic. Hicks plays a tough-love type of gatekeeper to the world that Chase wants to enter. She is both patient, and firm. From the moment the lights come up, Hicks is unimpressed and caring at the same time. There is risk in starting the play with a character that is a little too real. Namely that it can seem as if the character isn’t being acted. Perhaps we are looking at an exact slice of life? Perhaps. Kourtis isn’t always as effective at allowing us to feel as though he isn’t performing, but he’s there most of the time. Generally, the entire ensemble simply exists within the skins of their characters and does so with tremendous skill.
Michael Reyes plays Sebastian, Chase’s buddy/drug supplier, who happens to be HIV positive. It is never stated that he is in love with Chase, but his behavior later in the play takes on a sickly green tint of jealousy when Chase falls for Ethan (Brian Keys).
Now, something to consider: I saw the play near the beginning of its run, and Keys was playing Ethan. By the time this review publishes, he will have been replaced by Shaun Baer. Keys plays the role of Ethan, an HIV-positive baker who has been living with the disease for over a decade, with a combination of vulnerability and earnestness which makes him seem like the only truly good guy in the play. His quiet and safe masculinity holds up the romance story line as sweetly plausible. It hurts to see him unwittingly embracing a man who is using him. Which, make no mistake, Chase is indeed using a trusting soul to get infected. Watching Keys take the journey toward heart break is painful and raw.
While I’ve not seen Baer’s rendition of the role of Ethan, I have known Shaun for over a decade, and I can tell you that he is a tremendous actor and will bring his own pathos to the part. It will be a slightly different play, but it won’t suffer from the change.
The play feels intimate, not only due to the subject matter, the nudity, etc.; but because the set-up of the scenic and lighting elements. The action takes place down a chute between the rows of chairs. No single viewer is ever more than a couple of feet away from the action. And when that action is violent, bloody sex, it is uncomfortable to be right there in the midst thereof. It looks real. It feels real. It is not a situation anyone wants to be brought into. And yet, there you sit, unable to look away. The story can’t go on without the brutality, the intimacy, and the glaring exposure. John Kelly’s lights ensure the glaring part of that equation. In addition to traditional stage lights, the walls are lined with fluorescent tube lights which can be blinding at times, but also shed harsh light upon a tale that requires it. Nothing here is pretty, and each character’s flaws stand brightly illuminated, both figuratively and literally.
I don’t know who did the blood work on this show, but it was really well done. No one receives credit for it in the program. Similarly, the sex choreography isn’t claimed by anyone. However, whomever did that blocking has a thing or two that they could teach Yehuda Duenyas of ATC’s recent “Fulfillment”.
I left the theatre feeling like I’d been punched in the gut… in a good way. This was a powerful and meaningful piece that leaves you more than a little shaken in the end. It looks at a phenomenon within modern gay culture. It looks at humanity’s darker side. It looks at one man’s struggle with guilt and acceptance. And when it comes down to it, it tells a tale that makes the audience think and feel. It does everything a play should, and it does it really well.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: Visceral and vicious: a rough ride with a bug chaser.
I’ve seen a number of plays that have tried to capture the story of Hurricane Katrina. Many have tried to relate the tales of the people who went through the storm. None of them did justice to the panic, the horror, the loss, the regret, and everything else that went along with the category-5 hurricane. That is, until I saw “The Play About My Dad” at Raven Theatre last week. Writing this review has taken me far longer than any other one I’ve written over the last few years. That’s largely because of the scope of the topic, and the fact that many of the segments of Boo Killebrew’s play resonated on a deeply personal level. When Katrina hit in 2005, I was just starting my second year of grad school at the University of New Orleans. I have friends who stayed behind. I have colleagues who went through many of the things portrayed in Killebrew’s play. And I can personally identify with the playwright’s own tale, for I was directly connected to the disaster, but still lucky enough to be elsewhere when it all went down.
But, this review isn’t about my own experiences. It is about a play that was powerful enough to evoke the memories, and the emotions that went along with the struggles that my classmates and professors went through. No other work has captured that for me. Not even pieces that were produced in New Orleans in the years shortly after the storm.
Upon first arriving at the West Stage of the Raven Theatre Complex (yes, that is the ridiculously long-winded full name of the venue), Courtney O’Neill’s set is an impressive sight that clearly sets the tone for the entire experience. Bare stud wall frames and cross pieces create the skeleton of a two-story house. The roofing timbers extend up into the lighting grid, enclosing the entire space in the grasp of the spines of raw building materials. The construction of the scenic elements mirror the concept of the play itself. The conceit of Killebrew’s script is that the play isn’t yet a finished product. Its skeleton is laid bare for all to see.
The two primary characters of the play are Boo (Tuckie White) and her father (Joe Mack) who are both performing and writing the play as the audience looks on. It is a fascinating framing device that allows White’s character to interact with the other people in the play, despite her having been in New York when Katrina hit her hometown in southern Mississippi.
A quick note: the storm surge actually hit Mississippi much harder than it did New Orleans. The play does talk about the mess that occurred in NOLA, but the actions that take place on stage are all centered on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. Part of making Mississippi a fully realized location is the accent that permeates the gulf coast region. Many actors list a “southern” accent among their special skills, but that’s not the right accent for this play. Jason K. Martin coached the dialects on this play, and he nailed that southern Mississippi sound, especially with Joe Mack’s Larry Killebrew. At times I could have closed my eyes and sworn that Brett Favre (probably the most famous native of that region) was on the stage. It was that spot on. The other voice work within the show was solid, too. But, as one of my own company’s members is also from that area, I really appreciated the specificity of that familiar sound coming through.
I mentioned that the stories told are those of the people who went through the terrible events of Katrina. But, the individual vignettes that we see cannot be verbatim what actually happened, as many of the characters do not survive the play, and there is no way to know if the story as told upon the stage is really what happened, but this is when this play is most touching, and most “meta”. The character of Boo Killebrew has to convince her father that by telling a fictionalized version of what happened, she can show something more true than if she just presented the facts. It is a difficult thing for a playwright to explain this to non-writers. I’ve had similar conversations many times over the years. But, “The Play About My Dad” both tells and shows. There is an actual argument between the daughter and father about telling the truth. And then there are the scenes, which we see played out which clearly show how truthful to the human condition one can be by telling stories, rather than relating a litany of statistics and trivia.
The cast that director Marti Lyons has put together is universally solid in their roles. Sandra Watson most fully embodied the act of telling stories, as that is what her character, Essie Watson, did with her time. She was a storyteller, and she used her tales to tie her life into the fabric of the lives of others. Two paramedics on duty the night the storm hit are played by Patrick Agada and Nick Horst. They capture both the pessimism and the hope that are often juxtaposed within the individuals who man the ambulances during natural disasters. And Paloma Nozicka and Miguel Nunez bring out the terror and regret of a couple who do not know if they can protect their only child from harm. Each actor captures exactly the most human qualities of their characters. Each of their stories hit home in a most visceral way.
There is too much in my head to write about this play. When it comes down to it, it is a piece that I will be thinking about for a long time. But, for the sake of brevity, I’ll suggest that you take in the show yourself. Then, I can share more of my thoughts over a beer or two. For now, I just want to congratulate the folks at the Raven for a touching, moving evening of theatre that really hit me where it counts.
TEN-WORD SUMMARY:Katrina’s true human impact is finally captured in these stories.
Most freelance theatre critics have to write for multiple media outlets. When I do, I make sure to post the resulting review here as well, so you can see it, and then compare the resulting thoughts with the other shows that I’ve reviewed over the years. Also, I like to give every show I see a Dice Rating and a Ten-Word Summary!
Design for Living
Ten-Word Summary: Noël Coward’s smart and sassy threesome is hilarious and relevant.