Playing In The Woods, Part 3

And now, the long-awaited (or at least long-delayed) review of Another Part of the Forest, the last show I saw at American Players Theatre. Great apologies for the delay--explanations are forthcoming.

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Lillian Hellman's Another Part of the Forest, her 1946 prequel to 1939's classic The Little Foxes, was made for a proscenium stage--preferably one inside. It was the only production we saw that was a matinee Up The Hill, and certain moments suffered from the fact that it's impossible to have a blackout when the sun is shining. (The last moment of the play, particularly, though the musical cue still gave it a nice kick.) And the fact that it was quite hot and sunny didn't help, noticeably thinning the audience after the first intermission. So it's undeniable that the show had a tougher task than any of the others in the festival. But it certainly overcame the difficulties--Lillian Hellman wrote a tasty slab of melodramatic ham, and William Brown's production was just smashing, with everyone involved having a great time and keeping the audience entertained.

The play follows the scheming Hubbard family in 1880, 20 years before the events of The Little Foxes. The play delves into how they made their money and what made them who they became. It's often quite funny, but it's full of the "Old Testament Fury" that Brown mentions in his program notes: they may be absurd, and their antics fascinating, but there's no question that the Hubbards' ruthless scheming and acquisition of money and power is horribly destructive. That doesn't mean it's not fun to watch, though.

However, the melodrama takes a little time arriving. One of the strange adjustments for a contemporary audience watching the show is the delibarateness with which Hellman sets up the story. Act 1 isn't dull, but it certainly take some patience to get through it, as the script methodically sets each part of the plot in place. Authors don't take this methodical approach to exposition any more, but after adjusting, it's fun, raising anticipation for the explosions to come. And when the plot does get moving, it's delightful watching Hellman knock down what she just set up.

The cast has a fine time with their parts, making the characters pop from the stage even when they aren't entering through the aisles. Tiffany Scott makes a grandly manipulative Regina (though not nearly so dangerous as the older version), Marcus Truschinski chills the blood as the calculating elder brother Ben, Eric Parks and Tracy Michelle Arnold are hilarious as the feckless younger brother Oscar and Laurette, his lady love (who's also a lady of the evening), and Susan Shunk brings real pathos to Birdie. But the play belongs to the parents--Jonathan Smoots' Marcus, unshakably powerful in his own home until he isn't, and Sarah Day's Lavinia, seemingly addled and  powerless, but with a few aces up her sleeve.

Some just won't take to the stately pace and reliance on plot twists. But for those who like it, this is a damn fine version of a hugely entertaining show.

Playing in the Woods, Part 2

Athol Fugard, the great South African playwright, attacked the apartheid system with great force in his plays. Indeed, he was one of the country's most renowned artists during that shameful period. (Chicago saw productions of three of his plays from that era earlier this year.) But his work didn't stop when Nelson Mandela was elected president. APT is presenting Exits and Entrances, his two-character play from 2004, in the Touchstone. And while it doesn't have the raw power of his earlier works, it's still and entertaining and moving play, with sterling performances from David Daniel and Ken Albers.

Exits and Entrances is a memory play, exploring the relationship between the young Fugard (Daniel) and Andre Huguenet (Albers), one of the greatest South African actors of his era. By the time the play starts, in 1956, his career is on the decline. His Capetown production of Oedipus the King has a cast of miscast locals including Fugard, only 24, a ludicrously young version of the Old Shepherd, who also serves as Huguenet's backstage assistant. In conversations through the course of the run, as well as a reunion five years later, the playwright learns about Huguenet's life, regrets, and views on theatre, and shares his own theatrical dreams, life regrets, and fierce desire to change the country's horrible injustices.

The script's real advantage is in the characters: Fugard supplies a clear-eyed version of himself as a romantic young man, and a titanic Huguenet. This is the kind of part that actors dream of--grandiosity whipsawing into insecurity, dreams and desires beaten but not destroyed. And Albers makes a meal of it, making us care about this larger-than-life man and feel for his pain and disappointment. Daniel, though clearly somewhat older than his character, provides an appealing audience surrogate, full of ideals and artistic fire.

The script isn't quite as strong plot-wise. While the characters sometimes disagree, their main conflicts are either internal or with South African society. Most of the dialogue, therefore, consists of telling stories from the past and arguing issues. It's interesting to watch, but a little short on drama. Even though the show is less than 90 minutes long, it sometimes sags.

But it's really a chance to watch two actors doing great work up close. And for those who love great acting, it's definitely worth a trip.

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As You Like It is not named after its protagonist, like King Lear or Hamlet. But like them, it's unusually dependent on one performance: a production won't get far without a wonderful Rosalind. And the production at APT has found one in Hillary Clemens. She's completely lovable and delightful, with an easy command of the language and wonderful chemistry with Matt Schwader's Orlando. She's a strong center to Tim Ocel's lovely staging of one of Shakespeare's most complex comedies. The play is by turns hilarious, melancholy, philosophical, and life-affirming, and this production nails all of its moods.

Rosalind is the daughter of Duke Senior (Brian Mani), who was overthrown by his usurping younger brother, Frederick (Mani again), and exiled to the Forest of Arden. However, due to her friendship with Celia (Tiffany Scott), she is allowed to stay in the court. Orlando (Schwader) is the younger brother of Oliver (Darragh Kennan), who denies him his inheritance or any education and keeps him as virtual slave labor. Rosalind and Orlando fall in love at first sight when he comes to court and defeats the fearsome Charles (Michael Huftile), in a wrestling match. But just afterward Rosalind finds that she is being banished from the court. She, dressed as a boy, and Celia, dressed as a farmgirl, flee to the forest, where they encounter her father and his transplanted community, a group of lovestruck shepherds, and Orlando, on the run from his murderously angry brother.

The script balances a complex, quite silly plot with deep philosophical revelations and dizzy clowning, and it's tough to get them all right. But Ocel and company do it in the simplest way--playing the characters as real people with real problems. They're immensely likable, and our laughs are of recognition at frailties we share with the characters, rather than condescension. (One occasional exception is David Daniel's Touchstone, the fool: his clowning is often hilarious, but occasionally goes way too far outside the play's world, to jarring effect.)

Clemens leads the cast (which is excellent throughout), with able support from Scott, Schwader, James Ridge as the melancholy lord Jacques, and Nicholas Harazin and Ashleigh LaThrop as an unlikely rustinc couple. It's funny, exciting, and, in the end, deeply moving.

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Check back soon for my review of Lillian Hellman's Another Part of the Forest, the last show I saw at APT.

Blog Exclusive Review: Les Enfants Terribles: Prom Night

Sometimes Infantile, Not Terrible

(left to right) Scott Ray Merchant, Casey Kells, Chris Mueller, Alex Kyger, Eric Swanson, Brian Rad. Photo by Tom Hartmon.

When my roommate, brilliant actor/playwright/novelist Jessica Cluess, and I see a particularly strange piece of theatre or film, she generally turns to me with a shrug and says "Well, that happened." In a way it's a compliment: the art has, after all, provoked a reaction that's hard to put into words. There are many worse things a play or movie can do than weird you out. But if that's all it does, it's hard to argue that it's really effective--weirdness alone doesn't stick for long.

Well, Les Enfants Terribles: Prom Night certainly happened. What exactly was it that happened? Well, we're in a gym, decorated in patented tacky prom style (Shaun Renfro did the witty set). Just as a group of students (Jonathan Helvey, RyanLempka, and Amanda Beth Miller) are about to draw the name of the Prom King, Les Enfants burst in. Les Enfants, played by Casey Kells, Alex Kyger, Scott Ray Merchant, Christopher Paul Mueller, Brian Rad, and Eric Ryan Swanson, are a group of grotesque figures. They are wearing brownish, stained unitards, with foam-rubber growths of various kinds underneath--one has large, clunky feet, another gigantic breasts, the third a phallus that goes straight up to his sternum and what appear to be giant rabbit ears on his head. They chase out the people and proceed to enact a grotesque parody of the processes of courtship and prom royalty election, interspersed with bizarre a cappella performances of songs ranging from "All You Need Is Love" to "Tubthumping", violent beatings, and declarations of "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." In less than an hour, it's done.

It's hard to make a recommendation on this show, because it depends so thoroughly on the taste of the audience members. For those who like aggressive, grotesque, bizarre humor, it's sidesplitting (and there were some in the audience). Others are likely to find it intensely unpleasant. I fell somewhere in between--moments made me laugh, others made me uncomfortable, and there were sections where I just got bored or felt like the show was repeating itself. The cast is clearly talented: they create clear and sharp characterizations and throw themselves into the show with complete commitment and unwavering intensity. (All are recent graduates of Roosevelt University.) It just doesn't add up to much, in the end. It's too weird to be silly, escapist comedy, but if there was any satirical point or commentary on humanity, it didn't come through to me. The show may just be going for "bizarre provocation with uncomfortable laughs", in which case it succeeds on those limited grounds--it's certainly bizarre and provocative, and often funny. It hasn't yet cohered into a compelling show, but it will be interesting to see how the group matures over time.

One important note: if you do go, dress as lightly as possible. The night we went, it was absolutely stifling in there, despite the best efforts of a few fans. Hopefully Red Tape will come up with another plan to keep the place cool, but for now, wear shorts and sandals if possible, and bring water.

Blog Exclusive Review: Hesperia at the Right Brain Project

Full Disclosure: Playwright Randall Colburn is a friend of mine, and I'm friendly with director Nathan Robbel as well. I stand by the fairness and honesty of the review, but take it as you will.

Searching for Redemption

(Billy Fenderson and Katy Albert)

The desire for redemption is powerful: who hasn't felt they have sins that need to be washed away? But the drive to get away from your own sins can hurt other people horribly. That's the conflict that animates Hesperia, the second play in the Randall Colburn season at the Right Brain Project. It's not a perfect play, but it does enough things exceptionally well to be well worth a trip.

Claudia (Natalie DiCristofano) used to be a porn star named Jess. But one year ago, she fled L. A. and her old life and ran to Hesperia, a small, conservative, evangelical midwestern town near the one where she grew up. She's engaged to Trick (Nick Freed), the local youth pastor, and feels that she's gotten beyond her past. But now Ian (Billy Fenderson), her former lover and porn partner, who went to LA with her, has also come to Hesperia, looking for the same solution.

It's a plot setup ripe for sensationalism, which Colburn entirely avoids. In fact, the play does a remarkably good job at showing the appeal of religious conservatism. It was quite a surprise for someone, like myself, who has never been particularly religious--I felt the sense of belonging, of having one's toughest problems cared for, that must make an overwhelmingly religious communities so sustaining. The play is full of revelations like that--Colburn has a razor-sharp eye for the details of human behavior, and it's a joy to see moment after moment that's funny, moving, and painfully recognizable. (The production certainly helps in this respect.) It's rare for a play to have so many uncomfortably honest moments, and something special for this reason alone.

But while the truth of the characters and situations and the quality of the acting (more on that later) make the show consistently interesting to watch, the plotting doesn't always help. There isn't much plot tension to hold the show together. A plot strand that should provide an air of tension and sense of urgency feels perfunctory and is poorly devloped, such that when it gets resolved it almost doesn't register. It's not that it was ever supposed to be a highly plotty show (or at least it doesn't seem that way). But at this point it still has moments where it feels meandering, even though it's less than 90 minutes long, and the ending doesn't pack quite the punch that it should. (I'd also like another play, or a second act, to see what happens to these characters in the next few years, but that's beyond the scope of this review.)

Robbel knows Colburn's work (they collaborated on Pretty Penny a few months ago), and he leads his actors to excellent performances. DiCristofano has the least knowable character onstage (Claudia keeps a lot back), but she's always believable and sympathetic, even at her worst. Fenderson is likable, if a little frightening, as a man overwhelmed by the chance to will his past away. Freed is exceptional, making a character who could easily be a buffoon into the most sympathetic one onstage. Katy Albert, as a potential love interest for Ian, gives a hugely appealing and natural performance, despite the fact that her subplot needs more development.

Hesperia isn't a perfect play (and I think that Pretty Penny was better), but it's still damn impressive, and the folks at the RBP clearly know how to showcase Colburn's work to its best advantage. It's worth checking out for anyone interested in quality new plays, and hopefully a prelude to bigger things from all concerned.

I Write Lots of Things

Here are two posts I wrote for other sites:

The first is "My Cherrywood Nights or David Cromer Stole My Childhood," a short essay on my experiences in the cast of Cherrywood that I wrote for Eric Roach and Anderson Lawfer's very funny "Cherrywatch" blog.
I've also got a new review up, of Bruised Orange Theatre's Daddy Long Legs. It's a one act noirish comic thriller performed at the on the lakefront in Rogers Park. It doesn't always work (the ending falls flat) but there's a lot of fun to be had in sitting on the beach and watching the proceedings.

Here's the Cherrywood piece:

Many of you, reading the various articles about Cherrywood (some of which are even based on fact, and interviews which actually took place) might have gotten the impression that David Cromer’s production is the Chicago premiere of Kirk Lynn’s 2004 Austin-set mindfuck. But it is not so. Shade Murray directed it as his first year directing project while getting his MFA at Northwestern. This is the production that Cromer saw, which got him interested in the script in the first place. Cromer then worked on it in a student production at Act One Studios, and now here it is at Mary-Arrchie, the Greatest Chicago Theatre Event In History.

But who remembers the previous productions? I do. I was in Shade Murray’s Cherrywood (and who hasn’t wanted to get in Shade Murray’s Cherrywood?), and I can tell the tale. Cromer used my experiences, from when I was a tender lad of 21, to create his play, and I feel used. And sort of exhilarated.


Shade chose twelve of the best and brightest—or at least twelve of the hardest to embarrass and least likely to ask “what’s the point of this?”—to be his intrepid cast. We viewpointed, we created unscripted moments, we did sun salutations, we didn’t know how the show was ending until about three nights before we opened. It was a little bit of a cult.


We had no budget for tech and no stage manager, so there were no light cues, the set was mostly made of cardboard boxes, the costumes were pulled from storage, and the sound cues came from Shade running his iPod from the booth, with speakers sitting on the back of the stage.


And it was pretty awesome. Yes, twelve people doesn’t make a realistic party, and yes, the script can get a little bogged down and/or weird. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same kind of ownership over a play again. We built that damn show with our bare hands. We had three performances in a hundred-some seat theatre and were done. (And it was the last show I did before my graduation the next month.)


But then Cromer saw it, and suddenly we weren’t so special any more. He just had to do it with a greater degree of difficulty: four times the cast size, an actual set, a reconfigured theatre, critics, and on and on. And of course he’s David Cromer, so he’s watched like a hawk by everyone, and doing something like this…well, that’s newsworthy.


So I’m torn between being happy that more people will get to know this show and being jealous that Cromer’s version has gotten way more attention. I’m no longer special for having in Cherrywood—in fact, theatre people in Chicago who haven’t are harder to find these days. And doubtless Cromer took some stuff from our production, or made some changes that feel wrong, or generally messed with my memories of the show. Things will doubtless drive my crazy about the production.

But fuck it. I’m still going.

And here's the review of Daddy Long Legs:

As far as set designs go, it's hard to compete with Lake Michigan. Daddy Long Legs sets up a few rows of chairs on Leone Beach in Rogers Park, overlooking the water, and unfolds a tasty little gangster story for 50 minutes. The setting sometimes bolsters the story and sometimes distracts, but even when interest flags, it's easy to enjoy an early-evening hour on the beach.


For those with a taste for noirish tales, the show's a lot of fun. It's 1929, shortly after the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Bobby Widdle (Clint Sheffer, who also wrote the play) is meeting Mars Streznick (John Arthur Lewis) on the beach. Streznick arrives hauling a burlap sack filled with body parts — the remains of a hit. Bobby wants to find his wife, and Mars seems to know where she is. But he's not saying much, trying to convince Bobby to leave town while he can.


Sheffer does a good job teasing the audience with each morsel of information, keeping us hooked into the twisty plot. The script balances funny and suspenseful moments, while offering up some delightfully stylized dialogue and razor-sharp wordplay. He and Lewis each create compelling portraits of the feckless hoods: They are tough and dangerous, with something to hide, but aren't quite as smart or hard boiled as they think they are. Both are greatly helped by Anne Sonneville's costumes and Wes Clark's fight choreography. Unfortunately, the last 10 minutes, when the answers are revealed, manage to be both predictable and confusing. It's a disappointing end to an otherwise fun show.


And then there's the setting. The panorama is huge, and we could see everything from bright skies to dark clouds spewing lightning was visible at once. It was gorgeous and dramatic — and at its best moments, so was the play.

New Review Posted: Lookingglass Alice

Another week of extra-blog worries, another week of no posting. (And my connection to a few of the things on which I might post is a little too personal for me to think of a good way to write on them just yet.) And when I had a  review published on Monday, too! Shame on me.

Anyhow, Lookingglass Alice is pretty damn cool. It has issues in terms of storytelling and emotional heft--any version is necessarily episodic, which this doesn't fix, and few of the poignant moments really connect the way they're supposed to. But damn if it doesn't make you ooooh and aaaah over and over again. It's best for kids (and there weren't that many the night I went), but there's more than enough for adults to love. Who says we don't deserve to go oooooh and aaaahhh too?

Anyhow, here's the text:

There is one thing any adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s Alice novels must be: full of wonders. And while "Lookingglass Alice" has some flaws, it is a stunning success by that standard. There isn't a show in town with a higher wow-to-minute ratio.
The play, adapted by David Catlin, who also directs, follows the structure of "Alice Through the Looking Glass," using material both from that novel and from "Alice in Wonderland." Using a cast of only five, it embodies scenes from the novels with stunning clowning and circus work. Everything from the Caterpillar to the mad tea party to Humpty Dumpty appears, but none just replicate the images to which we're accustomed — the production re-imagines them in a thrillingly theatrical way.

It suffers from the primary flaw that any adaptation of the source material does: the novels are episodic, lacking any compelling dramatic throughline. This is fine on the page, but can leave any live version feeling like a string of brilliant moments that don't entirely connect. Catlin's version makes connections between the story and the process of growing up, but it doesn't solve the problem. And though all of the displays of circus arts are stunning, some go on too long.

But when the show is this entertaining, it's hard to care. The cast is spectacular, with each member having multiple moments to shine while working as a flawless ensemble (all but Alice play a wide variety of parts). Alice never leaves the stage, and Lindsey Noel Whiting makes us love her while making the acrobatics look easy. Among the many great characters created by the other actors are Molly Brennan's imperious Red Queen (do not check your cell phone when she's onstage), Anthony Fleming III's sinuous Cheshire Cat, Thomas J. Cox's daffy White Knight, and Kevin Douglas' crazed Mad Hatter. All five (and the superb designers and stage crew) make the magic happen, and it's a wonder.

Lots of Writing

So I've been a bit quiet on the blog recently, in part because a lot of my time has been going to acting in The Face of a Ruined Woman (See the new play by Mia McCullough! Two performances left, 6/27 at 7:30 PM and 7/3 at 2 PM! Call 773-883-8830 for tickets!), but partially because I've been doing a lot of outside writing. And now it's starting to get published, though one more review is still to come.

So first, and most exciting: I interviewed David Cromer about Cherrywood for the AV Club Chicago. You can read the interview here. Cromer's a fascinating man (though it proved rather difficult to track him down to talk), and I wish I'd gotten more time to speak with him. On the other hand, I had to cut at least 2/3 of our 20 minute conversation to get within the word count, so maybe it's for the best we spoke so briefly. Either way, I'm really proud of the piece. I wish it had gotten a response on the site, but hey, it's not too late to comment. Now I need to get my Cherrywood tickets...

By the way, if there's interest, I can share some interview outtakes.

Additionally, I've got two reviews up. (A third, for Lookingglass Alice is on the way.) These were shows I saw last Saturday and Sunday evenings:

First up was The Tallest Man at The Artistic Home. It was never boring, and there's real talent, but I found the extreme shifts in tone and focus to be extreme problems. I was confounded more than anything else. There's real talent involved, though, so I hope the next show works out better. Here's the text:

Jim Lynch, playwright of The Tallest Man, has a lot of stories to tell. Unfortunately, his new play tells all of them at once.


There’s "drunken Irishman" humor, warm-hearted satire, political commentary, bruising dysfunctional-family drama, deeply felt anguish, and a ghost story. And that’s all before the truly baffling deus ex machina ending. Sections work — some quite well — but overall, it is a confounding experience.


The play takes place in Tourmakeady, a small town in Ireland's County Mayo, in 1895. There are many challenges: Finbar (Shane Kenyon) wants to marry Katie (Marta Evans), but her mother (Miranda Zola) refuses because he is a tinker (an itinerant racial and social minority). Finbar and his cousin Frankie (Nick Horst), who is new to town and still mourning his parents, are trying to safeguard the home of Finbar’s mother (Darrelyn Marx). Everyone is trying to avoid the attention of Thaddeus Newcombe (Eamonn McDonagh), the new representative of the town's English overlord. Well, except for Tommy Joe (Frank Nall) and Johnny (Bill Boehler), who just care that the whiskey keeps flowing.


The problem is not that there are a lot of stories, it's that they all work at cross-purposes. When a plot twist out of an old melodrama butts up against an grief-stricken description of a father’s death, followed shortly by relatives exchanging blows like something out of Martin McDonagh, none of it has impact. Lynch has a real way with dialogue, and there are some appealing performances, notably Horst and Nall.


The designs, particularly Ellen Siedel's costumes, are attractive and effective (though the uncredited fight choreography is remarkably unconvincing). The show is rarely dull, but when every scene seems to have a new tone and narrative focus, it's nearly impossible to make sense of the experience, much less be emotionally involved.

The next night was Sweet and Hot: The Songs of Harold Arlen. I'm a huge fan of Arlen's music, so it was great to hear these songs live. He really was in a class by himself, both musically and emotionally, but so many of his songs are unfamiliar. (Also, a lot of people don't realize he wrote all of the songs he wrote--he doesn't have the same name recognition as Gershwin, Rodgers, or Porter.) Hearing them sung live and unamplified, up close, was enough to make this show fantastic for me. It had definite issues, outlined below, and it never really worked as theatre (attempts to give people characters and relationships just fell flat), but the songs are just so great, and sung so well, that I'm still very glad I went. However, please note: the dinner is $20, and, while good, is not worth it. I'd recommend getting dinner elsewhere first. And as I learned, it is not included for critics. Whoops. But otherwise, by all means go. Here's the text:

There are two kinds of people: those who already love Harold Arlen’s songs, and those who will when they hear them. Arlen incorporated the harmonies and emotions of the blues into the popular and stage music of the 1930s to the '50s to create musically gorgeous and emotionally vibrant songs. He's best known for "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but his catalog is full of gems, famous and obscure. Theo Ubique's revue, conceived by Julianne Boyd, gives us three dozen, and it's a thrill to hear each glorious tune. The production has some flaws, but when it focuses on the songs, it's transporting.


The No Exit Cafe is an odd little cabaret space, best suited to the intimate solos and duets. Nearly every production number attempted by director Fred Anzevino and choreographer David Heimann falls flat. This is a shame, but it's still an ideal space to get close to a performer and really hear the song. (The entire show is blissfully unamplified.)


The cast's three women dominate the show. Stephanie Herman is the ideal ingenue, by turns effervescent and vulnerable, with a crystalline voice. Sarah Hayes is completely honest at every moment, enlivening both comic songs and ballads. And Bethany Thomas continues to prove herself a local treasure with her huge voice and magnetic presence: When she sings "Stormy Weather" and "The Man That Got Away," they stay sung. The men don't fare as well: While Eric Lindahl is utterly lovable (and vocally gorgeous), Eric Martin doesn't get much chance to distinguish himself and Kristofer Simmons' breathy voice and peculiar interpretations simply don't fit with the rest of the show.


But in the end, it's about the songs. And they are stunning. The show does right by them far more often than not, so it's more than worthwhile for Harold Arlen fans, current and soon to be.

New Reviews: Neverwhere and War with the Newts

And how was everyone's Memorial Day weekend? Lovely, I hope. Mine was a tad chaotic (and way too much time spent on transportation), but quite good, overall. Though it has left me at a bit of a sleep deficit.

Anyhow, I've got a couple of reviews, one informal and one formal.

First off is Neverwhere, Robert Kauzlaric's adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman, at Lifeline Theatre. I've read a number of Gaiman's novels and liked them quite a bit, but I had never read Neverwhere. However, several of my friends have read the novel, and love it, so I got together with a few of them and saw the show this past Thursday. (And paid for it. My word.) Overall, I had a very good time.

I think my unfamiliarity with the novel was both a help and a disadvantage to enjoying the show. On the bright side, I couldn't judge any elements by how well they lived up to my memories of the novel (or the BBC miniseries) so, for instance, the fact that the character of Door was played as somewhat more imperious and no-nonsense (as opposed to more vulnerable) didn't bother me in the least. On the other hand, I think I missed some of the jokes and references, not to mention details of character and plot.

Still, the story was always told clearly and with brio, and the performances were very strong, with Kauzlaric, sporting a flawless Scottish accent as the hero, Kyra Morris, as a truly badass warrior, and Sean Sinitski and Christopher M. Walsh, as courtly assassins, standing out. The design work was truly outstanding overall, creating a wholly convincing world and some really magical effects. (By the way, in the past few months I have seen amazing designs by the fistful in storefront theatres. The people working there really know how to make the most of limiter resources, and I salute their imagination and skill.)

I found that the show didn't always pull me along, and the ending didn't have the intensity it needed, but overall it's a very entertaining show, and there's enough that's beautiful and exciting that it's really worth a trip for those in the mood for fun and involving fantasy. For Gaiman fans (a passionate lot), I'd recommend it even higher.

(And it's clearly connecting with its fans--on the Thursday I attended, it looked to be at least 85% full. On a Thursday!)

As for official reviews: I saw War with the Newts at the sadly beleaguered Next Theatre. Suffice it to say I didn't enjoy it. Didn't have anything to do with the troubles at the theatre--the script just has serious problems. My hopes are still high for things getting restabilized over there--it's a wonderful theatre.

And for what it's worth, my view was not in the majority, so maybe I'm just an incurable grouch. Here's the text:

"War with the Newts," adapted by Justin D. M. Palmer and Jason Loewith from Czech author Karl Capek's 1936 novel, has such potential. After all, it's about a race of amphibious creatures which are discovered and enslaved by humans, until they rise up and menace the world, and the production features water, puppets and projections. Even if it didn't work, one would hope that the sheer variety and bizarreness on display would make it interesting. So it's particularly disappointing to report that, despite the ambition of the project and the obvious intelligence and skill of the creators, the show is deadly dull.


A number of factors bring about this unfortunate turn of events. First off, the script itself is fatally unfocused: the newts are a satirical stand-in for...well, just about everything, from the victims of German racial theories and American lynchings to arrogant imperial powers to illegal immigrants working for low wages. The satire is too scattered to hit any target squarely, but the historical parallels are too obvious and overdetermined to permit much insight into the general human condition. Add the repetitive and strident domestic drama surrounding protagonist Mr. Povondra (Joseph Wycoff), the lengthy descriptions of offstage action shoehorned awkwardly into the script (we don't see a representation of a newt until late in the second act, so everything they do happens offstage), and the confused structure, and the result is a script that makes it very hard to get engaged, despite individual sections that work quite well.


The design and staging are indeed quite impressive, though they often feel lost in the theater, which is much larger than Next's home base in Evanston. The actors do individually strong work but can't give the show shape and clarity. The ambition shown is laudable, but the show just doesn't hold together.

New Review Posted: Body Awareness

Centerstage has posted my review of Annie Baker's Body Awareness at Profiles Theatre. It's really something special. Baker has blow up in the past couple of seasons in New York--indeed just last week she won the Obie award for best new play for both of the plays she premiered Off-Broadway last season, Circle Mirror Transformation and The Aliens. By the way, I'm shocked that neither has yet been announced for a Chicago production, particularly the former, which was extended repeatedly and made it on to multiple best of 2009 lists. (Though I notice open slots in the seasons of both the Goodman and Victory Gardens...)

Anyhow, this is very much worth checking out. Based on the evidence of this show, Baker is really a wonderful playwright, with an exceptional ear for dialogue and understanding of how people behave, blundering into ways of hurting people and moments of real beauty and caring. She definitely deserves the press she's been getting, and I hope we see more of her stuff soon.
Here's the text of the review:

It's a disconcerting and thrilling experience to watch human behavior under a microscope. Revelations that would pass unnoticed in everyday life are clear, seemingly routine conversations have huge stakes. "Body Awareness," the first play by rising playwright Annie Baker to be produced in Chicago, puts its characters under the theatrical microscope, making us care about four fascinating, flawed people while letting us see the minute ways they sabotage their own happiness. Though the play is brief in length and low on plot, it's moving and absorbing, particularly in Benjamin Thiem's sensitively acted production. It's easy to see why Baker's already so acclaimed.

Phyllis (Cheryl Graeff) is a professor at small college in Vermont, running "Body Awareness Week," and losing control of the proceedings: she didn't pay attention to all of the artists she invited. When she finds out that Frank (Joe Jahraus) takes pictures of nude women, she ignores his contention that they are non-exploitative and condemns him. Unfortunately, he's the artist staying in the home she shares with her partner Joyce (Barb Stasiw) and Joyce's son Jared (Eric Burgher), who appears to have Asperger's, despite his vehement protests to the contrary. Frank's stay causes tempers to flare and people to start the painful process of growth. It may not be groundbreaking material, but it's all presented with uncommon intelligence and heart.


While the production looks and feels completely natural, a lot of skill went into it. Baker subtly highlights important moments, giving the effect of reality with the volume just slightly raised. (Though the ending does paste an abrupt and surprisingly happy resolution on an unresolved situation.) And the ensemble is simply wonderful, effortlessly inhabiting the characters and relationships and keeping the audience enthralled, with Stasiw's performance particularly heartbreaking. It's not perfect, but it's a lovely, moving show, and reason to hope for even better work from Baker in the future.

New Review Posted: The Ghost Sonata

Centerstage has posted my review of The Ghost Sonata at Oracle. Sadly it didn't do much for me, though there was interesting stuff going on. I do want to point out something cool that Oracle is doing, though: starting next season, every single seat is going to be free, funded entirely by donations. This is something a lot of theatres have discussed, but very few do--Mike Daisey would be pleased. This is certainly worth attention and support, so those of you with cash to spare, please go help them out. Anyhow, here's the text of the review:

It's not necessarily a bad thing for a play to be confusing. Indeed, for a bizarre script like August Strindberg's "The Ghost Sonata," a clear story is entirely beside the point. So it's no criticism to say that the production directed by Max Truax is virtually impenetrable: such basic questions as who people are, what their relationships are, what they are doing, and where it's happening are only clear after much time and thought on the audience's part, and then only partially. The problem is that the audience is only rarely drawn in to the experience. Without that engagement, the evening never hits the notes of existential horror and disturbing imagery that are necessary to care. Despite the obvious theatrical intelligence of Truax and his collaborators, the audience is left in a state of mild bewilderment, leavened only by the occasional laugh or startling image.

The story, as far as can be gathered, concerns an Old Man (Rich Logan), who uses an innocent Student (Federico Rodriguez) to infiltrate the home of the Colonel (Sean Ewert). The Student loves the Daughter (Stephanie Polt), but by the time he reaches her, he has seen a world of corruption and endless frustration.

There is much to admire. The actors are completely committed (with Logan's creepy, twitchy performance particularly strong), and sometimes find the thread of horror that runs through the script. The design creates the play's skewed world, particularly Brieanne Hauger's perspective-skewing set, Jonathan Guillen's pervasive underscoring and Michael Janicki's bizarre video design. But it never goes beyond admiration. For a work pitched to this emotional intensity, it's vital that the audience be drawn in, whether by the characters' emotions, the language's potency, or the sheer weirdness of the affair. And while the production is sometimes impressive, it's stubbornly uninvolving.

New Review Posted: The Love of the Nightingale

Centerstage has posted my new review of The Love of the Nightingale, performed by Red Tape Theatre at St. Peter's Church. There's a lot to recommend it, even if the script's quality is variable. Still, James Palmer directs his cast to some really exceptional moments, and the design is working at an extremely high level for storefront theatre. Comparing this to Mouse in a Jar, the previous show of theirs I saw in that space, is quite impressive--the spaces are completely different. (This is yet another of William Anderson's fantastic sets. I don't know how long he'll be working in storefronts.) Now if only they were working with a script that didn't descend into obviousness with such frequency (or if they cut the bits that did), this would be an even more impressive experience. Here's the text:

Young authors are always instructed to show, rather than tell. Timberlake Wertenbaker's "The Love of the Nightingale," as directed by James Palmer, is a perfect example of why: when it is showing, through theatrical metaphor, stage pictures, music, movement and action, it's often breathtaking. But when the invention pauses for characters to tell us exactly what the story means and underline every point, the audience interest flags severely. It's not enough to wipe out the play's many impressive points, but it keeps the show from living up to its own potential.

The story is adapted from Greek myth: Thracian king Tereus (Vic May), after saving Athens in battle, chooses as his bride Procne (Kathleen Romond), the elder daughter of King Pandion (John Rushing). Years later, bringing Procne's sister Philomele (Meghan Reardon) to Thrace for a visit, he is overcome by desire and rapes her. In an effort to keep her quiet, he cuts out her tongue, which leads to an even more disturbing ending.

Wertenbaker's adaptation never sits still, moving from realism to dreamlike scenes, lyrical monologues to dance. The refusal to stick to one style is exhilarating, but is undercut by the sections of obvious speechifying. When the script works, Palmer's production is stunning, with images and scenes of immense power and thrilling theatricality. (The unfortunate exception to this is an ecstatic celebration of Bacchus that plays like a theme night at a rave club.) Full credit should go to the cast, an eye-popping 23, who commit fully to a challenging script and complex staging. But despite the strong acting and superb designs, especially William Anderson's immersive set and Miles Polaski's discomfiting sound, Palmer's production can't do anything when the play insists on explaining exactly what it means. And it's a shame, because when the show is good, it's wonderful.

Blog Exclusive Review: The Wreck of the Medusa

(Full disclosure: I went to The Plagiarists' Salon last Monday. They're a very friendly group, and I like them. But rest assured, this is an honest review.)

Nobody can ever accuse The Plagiarists of lacking ambition. The Wreck of the Medusa, their new play, written by Gregory Peters (though Ian Miller is credited as co-creator) and directed by Jack Tamburri, explores the worst naval disaster of the 19th Century from a dizzying variety of perspectives and styles. There are scenes from before the journey, leading up to the wreck, and the years after, pieces of an overblown melodrama based on the disaster, and a look at the creation of Theodore Gericault's famous painting about the disaster, and scenes are played as realism, parody, direct address, and even horror. Nearly everything onstage is interesting, and some is really fantastic, but the diffuse focus makes the play seems longer than its two hours and 20 minutes. It's hard to follow something that goes so many directions at once.

The story of the wreck itself is a grisly one--the Medusa was the head of a convoy going towards Senegal (a colony just being returned to French control in 1816) which took an unsafe course to save time, and was guided even worse by a charlatan (Steven Wilson) who convinced the incompetent captain (Andrew Marchetti) he was an expert in navigation. The ship struck a sandbar, and 150 of the 600 sailors and passengers were left on an overcrowded raft with minimal provisions. After insufficient efforts to tow the raft it was abandoned. When accidentally rescued 13 days later, only 15 survived, who had resorted to cannibalism to survive. Afterwards, the French government attempted to cover up the criminal negligence that led to the disaster and discredit those who told the truth, but Alexandre Corréard (Greg Hess) and Henri  de Sevigny (Kevin V. Smith) published an account of the shipwreck which became a huge success.

No scenes take place on the raft, and this is wise--what stage depiction could live up to the actual horrors, or the ones we could imagine? But aside from that, the play seems determined to tell us everything about the wreck. It's like spending an evening with someone who recently became obsessed with the topic and read a bunch of books on it--everything said is fascinating, but the scattered nature makes it a little tough to follow.

But so much of it is really worth watching. The end of the first act, leading up to the wreck and the abandonment of the raft is riveting (I was reminded of the incompetence, before and after the storm, that made Hurricane Katrina such a disaster), and it is full of scenes and moments that are horrifying or beautiful. As a collection of scenes, performances, and ideas, it provides a lot of food for thought and feeling. The acting is on a consistently high level, with Hess, Smith, Griffin Sharps, and Wilson particularly strong. And the design is brilliant--William Anderson again makes a stunning set in a small space (full disclosure: he did the same for Here Where It's Safe at Stage Left), Anna Glowacki's costumes blend the period-accurate and the expressionistic, and Christopher Kriz's sound design is so evocative as to be almost physical, especially during the shipwreck.

For those of us hungry for new plays with real scope and ambition, The Wreck of the Medusa is very encouraging. If the creators got a little too excited by the possibilities and let the show get away from them, who can blame them?

The Wreck of the Medusa runs Fridays-Saturdays at 8 PM, Sundays at 3 PM at Angel Island, 735 W Sheridan Road, through May 9th. Tickets, $15-20, at http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/98799

New Review Posted: Cabaret

Centerstage has posted my review of the new production of Cabaret that The Hypocrites are doing at the Storefront Theatre in the Loop. This one was particularly hard to fit into 300 words, so you all get the things I left out.

I'm wondering at this point whether Cabaret has an actual text left. Aside from possibly Candide, no show has had more significant alterations taking place. After the 1972 movie, most productions have dropped "The Telephone Song" (which is so much fun) and the original "Money Song" (it was called "Sitting Pretty" and featured only the Emcee--"Money Makes The World Go Around" was added for the film). Only about half of the productions use "Why Should I Wake Up?" and many add "Mein Herr," "Maybe This Time," and the new "Money Song" from the movie, not to mention "I Don't Care Much" a song that didn't make it in to the original production, and a song that I think is called "Don't Go Sally," whose provenance is unknown to me. (It's also probably the weakest in the score, though this production made me like it more than I remembered.) Meanwhile, different characters sing the creepily lovely Nazi anthem "Tomorrow Belongs To Me," depending on the version. This one actually sings it twice--the first time for the invented character of the Boy, the second in the familiar spot in the engagement party, while the production I saw in London used it as a pretext for a naked ballet, with no plot context whatsoever. (Yes, naked ballet. This was the nakedest show I've ever seen, and even that couldn't save it.)

The point being, Cabaret seems to have become a director's show--an opportunity for directors to use a play to make a statement. The fact that all four productions I've seen have used a different script is rather stunning--and I'm sure there are more versions out there. And just once, I'd like to see the original script. In a few years, I hope someone will have the anthropological courage to do the original version (maybe in 2016 for the 50th anniversary?). At this point, it would be a piece of theatrical restoration similar to what ATC will be doing next season with the original Chicago version of Grease.

That aside, however, this production is really wonderful. (Indeed, it's the first of those four productions I've seen that has been better than mediocre.) What's important is that in the initial scenes, it makes the Kit Kat Club looks like a lot of fun. The first act really is delightful (and genuinely sexy). This is a problem that so many productions face: the club doesn't just look seedy, it looks like a hellhole, with hostile Emcee and junkie dancers. (This became the default position after Sam Mendes' famed staging in the 1990's.) The problem is that if it looks so unappealing, it makes no sense that Cliff would stay more than a few minutes, that Sally would desperately want to return, or that the audience would have any investment in the place. It goes part and parcel with playing the end of the show at the beginning--too many versions make it impossible to ignore the Nazis from the start, which undercuts the power of the show at the end. The manic, sexy first act in this version doesn't even mention Nazis.

To respond to some criticism I've seen elsewhere: yes, it's unsubtle. I imagine if they didn't pull it off, the third act would feel like being bludgeoned repeatedly. But what can I say? It absolutely worked for me. One critic's pummeling is another's ballsy awesomeness, I suppose.

Anyhow, enough nattering. Here's the text of my review:

Few musicals have been altered more frequently than "Cabaret." Ever since Bob Fosse's 1972 movie radically rewrote the 1966 musical, it seems that every major production has made significant changes to the songs performed, their order, the book and more. And Matt Hawkins' new production makes some significant changes — making the Emcee into a woman (Jessie Fisher) and dividing the action into three acts, for instance. Purists could easily object, but what matters is whether the show works. And this bold, go-for-broke "Cabaret" works, spectacularly.


The story takes place in Berlin on the eve of the Nazi ascendancy: Cliff (Michael Peters), an American would-be novelist, falls in love with Sally (Lindsay Leopold), a self-destructive entertainer at the Kit Kat Club, which is overseen by the Emcee (Fisher). Their landlady (Kate Harris) falls in love with a boarder (Jim Heatherly), but politics and religion prove insurmountable boundaries.


The revolution of "Cabaret" is the way it balances traditional book songs with numbers in the club that comment on the action, and the most important reason that this production succeeds is that both halves work gorgeously. The cabaret numbers are surreal, dazzling and theatrical, and Fisher is marvelous, with a vibrant voice, wicked grin and real depth, but we also genuinely care about these people and their problems. We like the characters through the light and sexy first act and worry for them in the shadowed second, and so the third is absolutely devastating.


The cast is a huge help in this: Leopold, stripping away the showbiz melodrama that sometimes accrues to the character, is particularly riveting, and the entire ensemble of cabaret girls and boys (in Alison Siple's delightful costumes) provide excellent support to Fisher and create a compelling world. There's more good to point out (and a few small flaws, including inconsistent accents and pronunciations), but I think by now the point is clear — this is an exceptional production of a great musical. Go see it.

New Review Posted: The Meat Locker

Centerstage put up my review of The Mammals' The Meat Locker. It has a lot going for it, but works only occasionally. Apparently Breed With Me, their previous show, was very effective, but this one didn't quite do it. Ah well, still some worthwhile stuff up there, and probably worth a trip for lovers of noir, boxing, and claustrophobic basements. Here's the text:

No matter how far you run, or how hard you fight, death will catch up. And what do you lose trying to outrun it? That's the question explored in writer/director Bob Fisher's fascinating, disturbing and ultimately frustrating new play "The Meat Locker."
Meatlocker (Dave Goss), called “Meat,” is a traveling boxer, burdened by visions of the demonic Stitch (Adam Dodds), who threatens that if he ever goes down for the count, he'll die. Manny the Manager (David Lykins) doesn't share Meat's delusion, but does what he can to help them get by, touring from city to city. But they've still ended up in Bumville, where Benny the Bookie (Roy Gonzales) decides who takes a dive in the ring, and when. He won't take no for an answer, and neither will his enforcer, Rudy the Rhino (Gabe Garza).


This is a dark, pulpy tale, full of noirish paranoia, but with more explicit violence. Fisher has a way with disturbing characters - the seedy Radio Howard (Vinny Lacey) and Gonzalez's twitchy Benny are particularly memorable - and there are scenes where the tension and disgust he creates in the audience are palpable. The low-ceilinged basement space and the truly unsettling sound design (uncredited) help significantly.


But these are only isolated moments. The show's impact is hurt by the fact that the central ideas are never really developed over the course of the play, leading to a lot of repetition, and the characters have a few too many poetic monologues whose connection to the main action is hazy at best. And the many lengthy blackouts between scenes don't help.


It's a real shame, because the sections that work are exceptionally effective. With some editing this could be an evening that really gets under your skin, but right now boredom and fascination fight to a draw.

New Review Posted: The Literati

Centerstage posted my review of Chicago dell'Arte's The Literati a few days ago. I just didn't get around to posting it. (I'm also behind on my season postings. Sorry Time/Life Line(s)!)

Anyhow, the show is lots of fun, and the fact that each night they pick 5 of the 25 books to stage gives it definite repeat value. While it still doesn't quite match the first show I saw from Chicago dell'Arte, A Commedia Christmas Carol, it shows they're still the best at mating the arty and the extremely silly. The show won't change your life, but it's a really fun night out, and certainly worth the $15. (And if you're in  party mood, you could do worse than the 10:30 shows on Friday and Saturday.) And the free parking doesn't hurt at all.

Here's the text:

Victor Hugo's Les Miserables performed as a French farce by three men, replete with bad drag and cheesy accents, probably either strikes audience members as sacrilegious, pointless or totally brilliant. For those who fall into the last category (and I'm among them), "The Literati" is lots of fun - never less than amusing, and occasionally hysterical.


The premise is simple, yet fiendishly difficult: three actors have memorized comic versions of 25 great works of literature. Each night, audience members roll a gigantic die and one work from each of five categories is performed. It's a remarkable feat, and makes it possible that the performance I attended will have almost nothing in common with the one future audience members see.


The show is more than just a series of literary parodies — each performer has a character (with the same first name): Derek Jarvis is the pretentious twit, Ned Record is the sarcastic everyman, and Nick Freed is the cheerful idiot. As the three blunder their way through the show, they skirt the line between improvised and scripted — it always feels like they're making it up, and a lot of the time they probably are. That freewheeling tension sustains the show through the lesser moments. Because there are jokes that don't land, moments that are either too long or rushed, and sections that are merely cute enough instead of hysterical. But the show's ragged and unpretentious aesthetic works in its favor: this isn't a slick spectacle, with every line tested and perfected. It's a bunch of very clever people being extremely silly to amuse themselves and the audience, playing off each other and threatening to fall apart at any moment. But when it's performed with this much delight and comic skill, it's easy to just let go and laugh.

New Review Posted: Chekhov Kegstand

Centerstage put up a new review, Chekhov Kegstand at Gorilla Tango. It works better than an adaptation of Uncle Vanya set in a dorm room should--especially since it's not really an adaptation of the plot so much as some of the themes and ideas. The combination of comedy and drama doesn't quite work, and the plotting is pretty confused, but there's potential there. Here's the text:

While the differences are many, there are some profound similarities between the characters in Anton Chekhov's plays and college students: fear of the future, an inability to act, and a love for drinking vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. This is the idea for Bryan Cohen's flawed but promising new play, "Chekhov Kegstand," and for all the things that don't work, it's still better than a play called "Chekhov Kegstand" has any right to be.


The play takes place in the dorm room shared by Aaron (Joe Schlotter) and Greg (Stuart Berberich), best friends and roommates at the start of their senior year at an unidentified college. (The soundtrack appears to place the action in the late 1990s.) Aaron is trying to decide whether to pursue physics or music while Greg struggles with his lines in the soon-to-open production of "Uncle Vanya." There are of course many other complications, involving Lanie (Kimberly Franck), Greg's former girlfriend, currently dating Aaron; Greg's attempts to date stage manager Kelly (Colleen Sketch); and the trials of Jenny (Allison Schaffer), a timid girl taking Greg's dating advice.


The show's representation of college isn't documentary realism, but it's great fun to watch, and gets the crazed emotional essence of those four years. The performances are generally engaging and fun to watch, and there is some excellent verbal and physical comedy. The problem is the plot. It is riddled with implausibility for most of the show (Local critics attending a college production? Student actors being replaced during tech? Really?) and then abruptly resolves the various plot lines, capped with a strange shrug of an ending.


But there's something real and likable here. It's not quite successful yet, but there's enough talent in the writing onstage to make the next show from Cohen and his collaborators worth a look.

New Review Posted: Code of Ethnics

Centerstage has posted my review of Code of Ethnics, a new sketch show. It's only got a few good sketches, but there's reason to hope they'll improve.

Also, I was struck by how different the sketch and theatre audiences are. Very raucous, plenty of drinking. Maybe theatre could use a little more of that energy...

Anyhow, here's the text:

The Chicago sketch-comedy scene is vibrant but rarely reflects the diversity of the city. So the existence of Urban Indigenous, a multi-ethnic sketch troupe, is good news in and of itself. Unfortunately, "Code of Ethnics," the group's first full-length show, only rarely capitalizes on its potential: there are some great laughs, but too often the clever ideas fail to pay off.

Some of the sketches hinge on the exploitation of ethnic stereotypes: the fight between Asian and Latino gangs for the loyalty of a mixed-race man, or an Asian math team captain belittling any non-Asian who wants to be on the team, and hounding the Asian man who got only a 97 on his last test. They are great setups, but too many of the jokes come from simply repeating stereotypes, without any surprises or new insights. Other sketches don't address matters of ethnicity at all, with varying results: a sketch set in an elementary school classroom is more confusing than funny, but a sketch with beverages at the grocery store arguing over which is the best was the funniest of the night. There's clearly talent in the performing and writing, but at the moment there's not enough discipline: directors Josie Dykas and Eduardo N. Martinez need to be ruthless about cutting unfunny sketches and keeping the performers at their best. In all fairness, the audience was having a raucous good time, and I hadn't had anything to drink, which might not have made me the target audience. But for such a young group, there's real potential. Hopefully in their next show, they'll live up to their funniest material and produce great shows.

New Review Posted: Les Liaisons Dangereuses

Centerstage has posted my review of Les Liaisons Dangereuses (Dangerous Liaisons), which Remy Bumppo is doing at the Greenhouse Theatre Center. This play (and the film adaptation) is one of my very favorites, and it was great to finally see it live. It wasn't perfect, true, but it's still a smashing entertainment. It's not to everyone's taste, but I had a wonderful time. If you enjoy pretty clothes and ugly souls, go. Here's the text:

For some theatergoers, "Les Liaisons Dangereuses," adapted by Christopher Hampton from Pierre Choderlos de Laclos' notorious 1782 novel, is irresistible: witty people in gorgeous clothes behaving horribly toward each other. It's tremendously malicious entertainment, great fun until the human cost becomes distressingly clear. Some argue that it's all a little hollow, or that the moral reckoning comes too late, but in a strong production — and despite a few problems, this is a very strong production — the play just works. It's hard to argue with a show this tasty.


Le Vicomte de Valmont (Nick Sandys) and Mme. De Merteuil (Rebecca Spence), friends and former lovers in prerevolutionary France, pass their time by seducing, manipulating, and destroying unsuspecting victims. Merteuil, seeking revenge on a man who spurned her, sets Valmont the task of deflowering Cecile (Margaret Katch), 15 and just out of the convent, while he aims for Mme. De Tourvel (Linda Gillum), famed for her happy marriage and strong religious convictions. The plans work at first, but soon go wrong, with ghastly consequences.


Hampton's adaptation remains a wonder; the plotting is clear and frequently gripping, it's full of hilarious, quotable lines, and it generally handles the transition from comedy to tragedy well (though the Valmont/Tourvel relationship doesn't quite work). Embracing the story's excesses, director David Darlow keeps the action fast and fluid (the play feels far shorter than its 2:45 running time), and is helped by superb designs, with Emily Waecker's sumptuous costumes particularly standing out. With one unfortunate exception (Gillum, oddly flat), the performances capture the play's arch, barbed tone perfectly, with Sandys, languid and deadly as a coiled snake, Spence, steely behind her sweet facade, and Katch, far more than the silly girl she appears, particularly standing out.


There's little redeeming social value, but it would be hard to find a more seductive look at humanity's very worst impulses.

New Review Posted: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Centerstage has posted my review of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest at Gift. It's an odd one. I mention it at the start of my review, but this play outdoes itself in castration references and descriptions of women dominating and destroying men. You could practically make a drinking game from it. And this production, while well-acted, gave the time to think about these elements. It didn't quite have enough electricity...er, that's the wrong metaphor. It didn't grab you by the throat...that's no better. It didn't cut deep enough...crap,. forget it.

Here's the text:

There isn't space to write about the many bizarre elements in the script of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," Dale Wasserman's 1963 stage adaptation of Ken Kesey's novel from a year earlier: there's distrust of psychiatry and all authority, a rather troubling "magical Indian Chief" character, and an extremely skewed attitude toward women (with a disturbing focus on castration), among many others. It makes watching the play in 2010 an odd experience.


Theaters still produce the play today, however, because of the rich acting roles and potential for hugely entertaining theatrical fireworks. John Kelly Connolly's Gift Theatre staging is moderately successful in that regard; there are many strong performances, but it falls short of gripping.


The play takes place at an Oregon mental hospital in 1959, ruled absolutely by the calm, sadistic Nurse Ratched (Alexandra Main). Randle P. McMurphy (Paul D'Addario), arrives from the work farm, committed after faking insanity to get an easier sentence. He soon discovers how wrong he is, and leads the inmates in a revolt against Ratched's authority.


Everyone in the cast of 20 is doing strong work: D'Addario brings a seedy edge to his iconic role, Main hides her nastiness behind a nearly implacable reserve, though we never really get a sense of what makes the character tick (that may be the fault of the writing), and Guy Massey, as the most articulate of the inmates, is delightful to watch.


But it never quite coheres into drama. Though rarely boring, it's also rarely compelling, and the stakes never get that high. It's always a pleasure to see a small company doing such an ambitious show, and there's lots of great stuff to see, but in the end it's too hard to get deeply involved.

New Review Posted: Lower Debt

My review of LiveWire's Lower Debt is up on Centerstage. Sadly the show doesn't have much to recommend it, but I'm impressed that this is the first show I've seen this year in Chicago that wasn't worth a visit. Ah well. Anyhow, here's the text:

To give credit where it's due, Joshua Aaron Weinstein's new play "Lower Debt" is not a solemn tract about the people left behind by capitalism and forced to live in tent cities. Unfortunately it's hard to tell just what it is: poetic monologues sit next to meandering scenes, interrupted by black-and-white filmed sections, while no real plot shows up until about 20 minutes from the end. It's perplexing, to say the least, but not in a particularly interesting way. Despite some worthwhile performances, a strong staging and a few involving moments, it's mostly just dull.


After a pair of monologues with no apparent relation to the rest of the play, Claude (Malcolm Callan), his lover Val (Melissa diLeonardo) and her younger cousin (or sister - it isn't clear) Wendell (Annie Rix) discover an empty lot and claim it, charging rent for its use as a tent city. Meanwhile, CW (Brian P. Cicirello), an advertising copywriter, loses his job and is pulled into poverty by a combination of bad decisions and worse fortune. CW's scenes are shown as black-and-white movies until he arrives at the tent city — an interesting idea hampered by sound that makes it hard to understand most of the dialogue. For most of the show, though, we watch the various residents of the tent city go about their lives. There is vague rumbling about the characters' pasts and possible connections among them, but by the time revelations arrive they're too late — and too confusing — to make it worth the trouble.


There's good work here; Rebekah Scallet's staging is clear and always interesting to watch, Cicirello and Earliana McLaurin give engaging performances, and Anders Jacobson and Judy Radovsky's set is very evocative. But at this stage the script is still a bewildering muddle, and it's hard to care.