Archive for April, 2011
Review: Wreckage / Brutal Imagination (Caffeine Theatre)
Caffeine’s paired plays offer high concept with uneven material
Caffeine Theatre presents
| Wreckage | Brutal Imagination |
| Written by Caridad Svich Directed by Joanie Schultz at Stage 773, 1225 W. Belmont (map) thru April 17 | tickets: $20 | more info |
Written by Cornelius Eady Directed by Jason Beck at Stage 773, 1225 W. Belmont (map) thru April 17 | tickets: $20 | more info |
Reviewed by Paige Listerud
Cross-cultural playwright Caridad Svich often takes characters straight from classical theater and advances their story past death itself, into a new incarnation or a new dimension or perhaps a murky purgatory, where their past haunts their present existence yet remains the vaguest of memories. Disconnection and forgetfulness reign alongside repeated abuse; violent emotions unleashed in the past mold perceptions and choices, propelling the characters forward into an equally perilous future. Her 12 Ophelias: a play with broken songs has Ophelia emerge from watery depths to relive her relationship with Hamlet, renamed as Rude Boy. In Wreckage, produced by Caffeine Theatre under the direction of Joanie Schultz, the sons of Medea awaken on a beach, stunned and with no clear recall of their murder at the hands of their mother. Even in the afterlife, though, they can’t quite get away from dark, manipulative women or being exploited for sexual or other uses.
Cornelius Eady’s verse play Brutal Imagination also contains a mother murdering her sons. Yet, under Jason Beck’s direction, it takes on an entirely different aspect in the reflection of the Medea myth—it focuses not so much on the murder of young boys as the murder of black male identity through repeated narratives that dehumanize and, ultimately, criminalize black men.
Stephen H. Carmody’s intelligent scenic design and Thomas Dixon’s sound design accommodate both plays brilliantly. Gorgeously evocative projections (Rasean Davonte Johnson) amplify the abstract, fragmented pieces of beach onstage. The set shifts with only minor variations from one play to the other, signifying unity between the two productions that is quite sophisticated.
If only the material was matched as evenly as the production’s visual conception. With Wreckage, Svich’s poetic dialogue excessively pounds out the torrid language of bad romance. Once the First Son (Tim Martin) and the Second Son (Ian Daniel McLaren) become separated, they are thrown into twisted sexual situations. The First becomes adopted by a Woman (played with powerhouse glamour by Dana Black), who feminizes the boy and uses him as a pawn in manipulative emotional and sexual games with her Husband (Jeremy Van Meter). The Second Son becomes drawn into a life of sex traffic by the Nurse (Sean Thomas), now a pandering beachcomber.
The trouble is Svich just doesn’t know when to quit. Artistically, if not in life, brevity is the soul of wit—it’s also the soul of pain, shame, longing, rank passion and bitterness. The cast makes a valiant effort to sustain their dreamy or fervent monologues but, sooner or later, one speech about the terrible things love makes you do eventually sounds much like another. While her characters hit high points expounding on overwrought passion, jealousy, possessiveness, dominance or feverish love, they also go on well past the point of interest. There can be little an actor can do to circumvent the ennui that sets in. Once the panderer turns out the Second Son, McLaren and Thomas deliver an interesting and amusing riff/sales pitch that serves as social commentary. Van Meter pointedly encapsulates his bitter sexual dependency on the Woman he must share with the First Son. Black captures the dark, ritualistic evil of the Woman who reflects Medea. But all in all, the very excessiveness of the script besets the production.
Brutal Imagination, on the other hand, gets right to the point. “I’m not the hero of this piece,” says Mr. Zero (D’Wayne Taylor), “I’m only a story, a thought, a solution to a problem.” Susan Smith’s (Samantha Gleisten) problem is that she has murdered her children and now tries to cover it up with a fictitious story of a black man hijacking her car and driving away with her boys in the back seat. For a short while, Mr. Zero is her cover–based on a true incident of “racial hoax” that took place in Union, South Carolina in 1994.
Brutal Imagination explores the racism behind Smith’s “necessary fiction,” examining it from all angles as it goes step by step through the whole nine days of a small Southern community thrown into the turmoil of the police searching for the children and the black man in question. Susan Smith receives support with prayer vigils and rallies, while Union’s African American community is put on notice with arrest after arrest of suspected black men.
Eady cunningly pairs Susan with her fiction, Mr. Zero, like a couple in danger of coming apart as the truth unravels. For the most part, the play is Taylor’s and he exhibits exemplary versatility with difficult exposition, not only pertaining to his character, but also a string of images of black men, from Uncle Tom to Buckwheat to Stepin Fetchit to Stagolee. Yet, Gleisten holds her ground with her frail, nervous depiction of Smith–sanctimonious in her portrayal herself as a mournfully desperate mother, pathetic once the sheriff suspects her of the crime. Susan and Mr. Zero’s final waltz before the truth separates them is a shrewd touch on the part of Beck’s direction. The racism that brought these two together colors their last swan song. Now, this is a bad romance we can all relate too, as American as apple pie and Aunt Jemima syrup.
| Ratings: |
| Brutal Imagination ★★★ | |
| Wreckage ★★½ | |
Review: Before and After (Theatre Momentum)
Too many actors in the kitchen muddle interesting concept
| Theatre Momentum presents |
| Before and After |
| Directed by Tony Rielage at the Apollo Theater, 2540 N. Lincoln (map) through May 7 | tickets: $8-$10 | more info |
Reviewed by Jason Rost
In Chicago, improv is as synonymous with comedy as the Cubs are with losing. However, there is nothing about improvisational performance that inherently means humor. Most any acting school uses improv as experimentation in training to create performances that are urgent and honest. Theatre Momentum is an exciting theatre company poised to illuminate this fact with their mission of creating narrative based improv. Within the basement space at the Apollo Theater, director Tony Rielage and his company of improvisers have taken upon a notable artistic endeavor with their new production, Before and After. In the end, unfortunately it proves too overwhelming to succeed. While they 
may continue to evolve the structure, presently it exists in a state that is fairly entertaining in its high points, yet despite talented performers, falls flat more often than not during this extraneously long show.
The conceit of director Tony Rielage and his troop is to create a fresh narrative each performance, through improvisation, that follows a single character in the midst of a life-changing event, played by two actors in two different stages of the character’s life. The rest of the cast fill in the supporting roles. The performance I attended revolved around a Mark Zuckerberg type character that created a lucrative website encapsulating every internet obsession: web videos, online dating and the sale of ironic Jesus t-shirts. Derek Van Barham and Adam Ziemkiewicz played the central character in different moments of his life. Van Barham was exceptionally sharp as the younger version of the character in his cold manipulative discovery of how the internet can give him power. While Ziemkiewicz added heart to the story, the details of the events surrounding his version of the character were muddy. The life changing event was apparently the marriage of his lifelong love (played by Julie Chereson grounded with charming truthfulness).
As the format exists currently, 90 minutes seemed to cause the group to have to stretch for time and devise improvised scenes that were meaningless and bordering on incoherence. Also, the need to include each of the dozen cast members throughout the show takes too much focus away from the central relationship to carry any gravity. Nevertheless, there were a few impressive moments where these intelligent actors developed some heartfelt relationships, such as Van Barham and Peter Athans in a scene in which a son interviews his divorced father for a dating video to be posted online. Theresa Ohanian brings life and vitality to every scenario she is involved in, proving to have the sharpest wit and most guts in this cast. Athans is also a standout bringing the most truth, empathy and maturity to the stage. All the while, these strong actors come across as wasted talent in the daunting task to create a meaningful piece of theatre with few structural setups to guide their journey.
As time goes on, this cast may find ways to tighten up their stories and create higher stakes in scenes. While it may go against their mission, I hope that this company may take moments that work well and carry it over to following performances to build upon. I would love to see this very same cast and director tackle a slightly more developed production still utilizing their improvisational skills. If there were a solidified structure for these actors to play in, I feel that it would result in even more creativity. What we get now is far too large a canvas, too many paints and too many artists to give the audience a finished product that can be appreciated in its totality.
Still, Before and After may prove to be an interesting and worthwhile outing for hardcore fans or practitioners of improvisational performance. It certainly offers something different than the likes of iO and The Annoyance. While focused on dramatic narrative, there are still a handful of laughs and sketch moments. Nevertheless, as a piece of theatre it doesn’t quite hold up. It especially doesn’t hold up for a full 90 minutes. It’s a delicate balance between keeping the performances fresh and improvised, while also achieving a consistently coherent narrative within the structure Rielage has devised. The format may benefit from either adding a more preconceived plot to their plays, or condensing the action and losing a few cast members. Theatre Momentum has yet to figure out the correct formula, but they are worth keeping a close eye on.
| Rating: ★★ |
Before and After is a 90-minute long performance at the Apollo Theater Studio, 2540 North Lincoln Avenue, and runs Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 PM through May 7, 2011. Tickets are $10 Fridays and Saturdays, and $8 Thursdays. Reservations may be made through the Apollo Theater box office at (773) 935-6100 and at www.ticketmaster.com.
Review: Dixie’s Tupperware Party (Royal George Theatre)
There’s a different use for a Tupperware decorating pump?!?
| Royal George Theatre presents |
| Dixie’s Tupperware Party |
| Written by Kris Andersson Directed by Patrick Richwood at Royal George Theatre, 1641 N. Halsted (map) through June 12 | tickets: $44-$49 | more info |
Reviewed by K.D. Hopkins
There is nothing like a good old Southern woman with big hair and a big heart. I knew a few Dixie Longate types in my youth and still to this day. The authentic Dixie Longate is the hostess of Dixie’s Tupperware Party” at the Royal George Theatre. Ms. Dixie is a hoot making her way through the audience before the show passing out mints from her favorite Tupperware container. She warned me not to eat it until I had finished my glass of wine or it “will taste like ass”. Noted Ms. Dixie – I did not try the mint until well 
after the glass was drained.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover that this is a real Tupperware party where one can purchase all varieties of the American classic food storage product. Dixie gives the history of the Tupperware party, starting with Brownie Wise over 65 years ago.
Now, Ms. Longate is a very special lady, and has what could be called chutzpah or as we like to say on the South Side “she’s got a real set of stones on her”. The bio reads that she left her kids in an Alabama trailer park to become a Tupperware superstar and never looked back. The great thing is that it is a true story for thousands of American women over the last half century. Dixie feeds her three children –Wynona, Dwayne, and Absorbine Jr. – by selling the practical and colorful plastic goods.
The show starts with Dixie filling a Tupperware tumbler (complete with the no-leak straw hole) with a healthy serving of Jack Daniels. Along with an actual catalog, the audience is given name tags in case one wakes up behind a dumpster at the truck stop and forgets their order. There are malapropisms, double entendres, and sight gags aplenty. Ms. Dixie’s persona is a tribute to all of the women who have ever cried in their cheap whiskey to a country song. I’m not talking contemporary country either. You have to reach back to the great ones: Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, and the fabulous Dolly Parton. Few can wear the gingham and the lacquer hair spray with such panache as these ladies and Dixie Longate.
Dixie’s Tupperware Party is an interactive show wherein Ms. Dixie will single out a few audience members and take them through potentially embarrassing exchanges. One young woman became just “Lesbian”, which was said by Dixie with a pseudo-offended fundamentalist sneer. Ms. Dixie was aghast that the Lesbian team beat the nice Christian boys in the Tupperware Rimming contest. She also heard a lot of homo-sectionals cheering for the nice Christian boys. Hmmm?
There is an audience Q&A for special Tupperware questions and testimonial er…Tuppermonials for those of you with fond memories of America’s finest plastic ware. I was amazed to find out that Ms. Longate really is the number one sales person for Tupperware in the USA and Canada, and you can see why – she knows her stuff and is wickedly funny at the same time! There are raffles with really cute prizes of Tupperware miniatures, and for the winners of the Rimming Contest there is collapsible Tupperware. (In case you are wondering, rimming in Tupperware-speak is sealing the top on a bowl. Duh!)
If you are offended by drag, truck stop sex, or freaky uses for a whipped topping dispenser with five decorating tips, please come and bring a friend. Ms. Dixie is a gifted comedienne with a knack for improv and will make great use of your discomfort, much to the audience’s amusement. Now get your mind out of the truck stop, y’all, and get your fannies over to the Royal George Theatre!
| Rating: ★★★ |
Dixie’s Tupperware Party has been extended through June 12th and is not to be missed. For tickets call the Royal George at 312-988-9000 or but tickets online at Ticketmaster.
Performances continue Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays at 8pm, Saturdays at 3 and 8pm, Sundays at 3pm.
Visit dixiestupperwareparty.com for more details on Ms. Longate’s escapades. It’s great grown-up fun and empowerment for all the big-haired ladies of America.
Artists
Kris Andersson (Creator, Dixie); Patrick Richwood (director); Richard Winkler (lighting); Christopher K. Bond (sound); Steven C. Kemp (set)
Review: Twinkie and the Beast (MidTangent Productions)
Beastly, bawdy fun!
| MidTangent Productions present |
| Twinkie and the Beast |
| Written and Directed by Tony Lewis at Hydrate Nightclub, 3458 N. Halsted (map) through April 30 | tickets: $10 | more info |
Reviewed by K.D. Hopkins
I always have a good time in Boystown whether it’s shopping at some of the more interesting stores (hellooo Tulip!) or sipping a citron and cranberry at Hydrate. I had the great pleasure and bonus of seeing the MidTangent production of Twinkie and the Beast to go with my libation.
This show is a brilliant send up of the ‘Beauty and the Beast’ story. It was refreshing and quite hysterical to see it done so irreverently with the denizens of Boystown.
This is the story of a hot little twink named Swell who is looking for love and won’t give up the goodies until he finds it. Loren Agron plays Swell with delightful aplomb. Swell is pursued by the cocksure swain Piston played by Aaron Michael Adamkiewicz. Piston is a great caricature of the villain Gaston in the original fairy tale. Adamkiewicz struts about the stage in various rough trade attire as a porn star who always gets his man. I loved the obviously stuffed jeans which reminded me of Led Zeppelin back in the day. Piston later emerges in homage to Larry Blackmon of Cameo in leather pants and a codpiece – hysterically sexy!
Swell runs to his Fairy Godmother, played by drag star Madame X, to avail of her advice on the pressure to give in to Piston or wait for true love. This scene is truly about the beauty and artistry of drag. Madame X is a surreal vision in Fellini pink and kabuki mannered gestures.
The story gets more surreal when Swell enters the Beast’s manor and trades his life to save Fairy Godmother from the dungeon. We meet all of the enchanted characters who used to be regular Boystown folks.
Wiggins used to be the Beast’s fag hag before he was cursed to wear the leather mask and seriously big wig. Wiggins was rewarded for her loyalty by being turned into a big pile of wigs. Erin Daly has a phenomenal voice and exquisite sense of timing as Wiggins. The other characters are from a drag queen’s cosmetic case as well. There is Karla Meyer as Lipour, the living lipstick attired in a stock French maid outfit.
Michael Elm plays the role of Pouf, a powder puff who channels Ernie Kovacs as Percy Dovetonsils. Elm is hilarious with his droll and imperious delivery. And then there is Doobie – yes a giant human joint who can roll one off of himself. Poor Doobie just came to deliver a pizza and voila, he is what he smokes. Andrew Kain Miller embodies the skateboarding slacker in the Dunkin Doughnuts parking lot but with a much better physique.
 |
 |
 |
 |
The Beast is played by Omicah House. He wears sky high acrylic platform knee high boots and a nice series of corsets. Mr. House delivers every line with booming ferocity which actually gets to be a bit much when the Beast is supposed to be softening and falling for Swell.
Twinkie and the Beast has fantastic choreography. Every cast member is synchronized and on beat. It was like watching a queer Soul Train-awesome. Not everyone is a great singer in this cast and the music is literally carried by Erin Daly, who is a powerhouse singer. I suspect that she leads her own band or she should anyway.
Although there were sound glitches and several painful feedback moments (that the cast played through in a professional manner), Twinkie and the Beast is still a fun and naughty night on the town. Get a drink from the really cute bartender and settle in for a raucous evening of laughs, one liners, and visual delight!
| Rating: ★★★ |
The MidTangent production of Twinkie and the Beast runs through April 30th at Hydrate Night Club, with performances Fridays and Saturdays at 9:00pm. Hydrate is located at 3458 N. Halsted (map). Tickets are $10, and can be purchased online or by phone (773-835-0420). More information on their Facebook page. Get there early and take a walk through the neighborhood. It’s beastly fun!
Review: The Alchemist (Nothing Special Productions)
17th-century farce delivers rich hoaxes, prosperous laughs
| Nothing Special Productions presents |
| The Alchemist |
| Written by Ben Johnson Adapted by Gregory Peters Directed by Jack Dugan Carpenter at Heartland Studio, 7016 N. Glenwood (map) through April 30 | tickets: $15 | more info |
Reviewed by Katy Walsh
Love? Riches? Fairytalk? Whatever you’re in the market for, the alchemist is selling it for cash or velvet. Nothing Special Productions presents The Alchemist. A trio of swindlers conjure up dreamy elixirs for the villagers in need. The scams are housed in a deserted mansion. Dazzling promises lure the customers into the illusion. The people are foolish. The hoaxes are elaborate. The payoff is pure gold. The Alchemist guarantees riches and delivers it as prosperous laughs!
Like an ongoing ‘Saturday Night Live’ sketch, the buffoonery is riotous. Jack Dugan Carpenter directs the huge cast through the mazed intrigue. Carpenter paces the mega set-ups with a zippy revolving door feel. At the core of the mayhem, the household rogues (Andrew Marchetti, Sean McGill, Melissa Imbogno) don numerous disguises and personas to work their magic. It’s a burlesques-style slapstick! Continuous almost-being-found-out moments add to the hilarity. In one scene, the threesome act out a fascinating elfin attack. Their giggly enjoyment of the charade makes it feel improvised. Marchetti and McGill are a dynamic duo. Their synergy is perfected comedic timing. The talented ensemble add to the punch line with exaggerated spoofs. In particular, two supporting actors stand out in stealing ways. Matt Castellvi pontificates in grandiosity. His Laurence Olivier-like theatrics are hysterical. A lanky Ken Miller escalates the joke with uttering one word, ‘sis-star.‘
Playwright Gregory Peters has updated Ben Johnson’s farce from the 1600’s. Peters keeps the formal prose but weaves in a modern twist to the multiple entanglements. By intermission, the number of grifts in progress is exhausting. Not because the audience isn’t entertained but because they know ALL the scams must resolve before the show can end. To adapt a play for the 21st first century, you need to adapt to an audience with a tweet-size attention span. By limiting characters and eliminating scenes, this long con could be an excellent hustle!
| Rating: ★★★ |
The Alchemist continues through April 30th at the Boho Theatre in Rogers Park, with performances Thursdays, Fridays and, Saturdays at 8pm. Tickets are $15, and can be purchased online. The show’s running time is two hours and forty minutes, which includes an intermission.
Cast
Sean McGill (Face); Andrew Marchetti (Subtle); Melissa Imbrogno (Doll); Tony Kaehny (Dapper/Officer); Scott Sawa (Drugger); Chad Brown (Ananias); Matt Castellvi Mammon); Conor Burke (Surly); Patrick Byrnes (Tribulation); Ken Miller (Kastril); KaCee J. Hudson (Pliant); Joshua Razavi (Lovewit)
All photo by Michael Laird
Review: White Noise (Royal George and Whoopi Goldberg)
Though it doesn’t quite rock the hard place, it still rocks
| Whoopi Goldberg presents |
| White Noise: a cautionary musical |
| Book by Matte O’Brien Music/Lyrics by Robert Morris, Steven Morris, Joe Shane Directed and choreographed by Sergio Trujillo at Royal George Theatre, 1641 N. Halsted (map) through June 5 | tickets: $50-$65 | more info |
Reviewed by Barry Eitel
Neo-Nazism, maybe now more than ever, is definitely a lonely philosophy, with both sides of the political spectrum trigger-happy to brand their opponents as followers of the Fuhrer. Unlike the more fashionable discrimination against Latinos, Muslims, and gays, wholesale white supremacy is not in vogue these days. White Noise, the new “cautionary musical” produced by Whoopi Goldberg, asks what would happen if subtle and coded racist rhetoric went viral? It’s already sort of happening over on 4Chan; in this way, Matte O’Brien’s book is screamingly relevant. He’s assisted by well-wrought, if often disturbing, songs and Sergio Trujillo’s snappy staging. However, by using tired Nazi philosophy 
as its punching bag, White Noise fails to present a nuanced reflection on racism in today’s America—something we desperately need.
The events of the play were inspired by a little duo of white nationalists who formed a band called Prussian Blue. The two tween girls sang about race wars and crushes on skinheads, nearly immediately gaining the ire, and spotlight, of the national media. However, the pinnacle of Prussian Blue’s career was playing a state fair or two. The titular band in White Noise is sexier, more talented, and more marketable—singing their ciphered bigotry, they become YouTube darlings and put out a number one single.
One wonders how their repulsive beliefs are kept hidden from the media – something the show never explains. In fact, you aren’t really told much about how those beliefs came to be; there is never the searing indictment of inherited racism you find in American History X.
What we’re left with is the terrifically short rise and fall of White Noise, which is comprised of sisters Eva and Eden (Mackenzie Mauzy and Emily Padgett), skinhead/bassist/Eva’s boyfriend Duke (Patrick Murney), and Jake (Eric William Morris), who’s slapped onto the band by record exec Max (Douglas Sills as a lukewarm Bobby Gould-lite) with the mission of repackaging the group. The show becomes a battle between the greed of the amoral Max and Duke’s desire to vocalize his disgusting views on a national platform. Eva and Eden are caught in the crossfire. Eden just writes the tunes; she’s never really that concerned with the message. Eva fully believes the stuff, but she’s also a capitalist.
This story is juxtaposed with Max and Jake’s attempts to repackage backpack rappers Dion (Wallace Smith) and Tyler (Rodney Hicks) as gangstas. It doesn’t help that the two’s original ideas are pretty lame (like a rap version of the Declaration of Independence – not kidding), lacking the intelligence of Lupe Fiasco or De La Soul. Against their will, Max turns them into Blood Brothers and Jake writes them a little tune called “N.G.S.,” a smash hit about N’s (think N.W.A.) shooting “white boys.” Obviously, Jake and Max are guilty of racist double-dipping, but Max could care less and Jake is concerned with making his career. The whole musical leads up to a giant concert featuring a double bill of White Noise and Blood Brothers. Needless to say, it doesn’t go down as smooth as “Ebony and Ivory.”
 |
||
|
Mauzy and Padgett give great performances and nail the musical numbers. Their tunes, penned by Robert Morris, Steven Morris, and Joe Shane, are legitimately catchy. Murney is chilling and Morris, who becomes the romantic lead in this tale, is decent. Max is a wannabe Mamet character who just isn’t quite ballsy enough, but Sills does the best he can.
I have to give props to this show – which has Broadway-level production design – for not shying away from the vile language. The show may be as blunt as Nazi propaganda. It presents racism in a polarized manner that doesn’t speak to the insidious, quieter racism that we see today. But White Noise still asks some relevant questions. The Hitler salute-inspired choreography in the video of White Noise’s hit single, “Mondays Suck,” inspire rounds of fan vids on YouTube, a la “Single Ladies.” At the end of the night, I was wondering how stupid all those kids must feel after they realize they posted videos of themselves goose-stepping.
| Rating: ★★★ |
White Noise: a cautionary musical continues at the Royal George Theatre through June 5th, with performances Tuesday-Thursday at 7:30pm, Fridays 8pm, Saturdays 5pm and 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm and 5pm. Tickets are $49.50-$64.50, and can be purchased online or via the box office (312-988-9000). For more info, download the
.
All photos by Carol Rosegg
Review: There Is a Happiness that Morning Is (Theatre Oobleck)
A witty, cerebral look at love in all the wrong places
| Theatre Oobleck presents |
| There Is a Happiness that Morning Is |
| Written by Mickle Maher at DCA Storefront Theater, 66 E. Randolph (map) through May 22 | tickets: pay what you can | more info |
Reviewed by Katy Walsh
The college watches two people have sex on the quad. Shocking… especially because the public intercourse is between teachers who will enter courses the morning after. Theatre Oobleck presents There Is a Happiness that Morning Is. Two poetry professors consummate decades of collaboration. The next day, they acknowledge the super-sized P.D.A. in very different ways. A barefoot Bernard is in full bloom with twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair and pants. He poetically states ‘I happy am‘ but wants to apologize for the visual spectacle. A pulled together Ellen owns the intimacy to her class but not necessarily to Bernard. And she absolutely refuses to ask for pardon from the college. They teach unrelated but related lessons on William Blake’s poetry. Discourses of ‘Infant Joy‘ versus ‘The Sick Rose‘ probe happiness and dark secret love. The 
separate verses are interrupted by the college president’s twisted reveal. There Is a Happiness that Morning Is is a witty, cerebral look at love in all the wrong places.
Playwright Mickle Maher pays homage to 18th-century poet William Blake with this show. Maher builds the action from two characters’ interpretations of two different poems. It’s living verse as the professors reflect on their intellectual and physical connection to the words. As an Oobleck practice, the story unfolds without a director. The devised piece works with the cast’s obvious synergy in storytelling. Looking like Timeout’s Kris Vire’s brother, Colm O’Reilly (Bernard) is hilarious using his fornication as education. A starry-eyed O’Reilly teaches a lesson in ‘at last I am this poem.’ Diana Slickman (Ellen) counters O’Reilly’s flowery romanticism with no-nonsense practicality. Slickman’s drollery entertains with a he-said/she-said discourse. Overlapping lectures set in different times are particularly amusing as he pours his heart out and she takes attendance. In an opposites attract way, O’Reilly and Slickman’s mismatch heightens the humor. Kirk Anderson (James) surprises with his arrival and adds another kink(y) to the lovemaking. Anderson deadpans his buffoonery with lighthearted results.
‘Love makes all the difference. With love, all things are better. Love makes a magic zone.‘ Poets write about love. Poetry professors interpret the meaning of love… from their own personal experience. There Is a Happiness that Morning Is is a clever, intellectual love lesson. Although avid readers of poetry will sustain a higher level of pleasure, this course is a stimulating perusal for anyone!
| Rating: ★★★ |
There Is a Happiness that Morning Is continues through May 22nd at the DCA Storefront Theater, with performances Thursdays-Saturdays at 7:30pm, Sundays at 3pm. Tickets are pay-what-you can ($15 donation suggested), and can be reserved online or by calling the box-office at 312-742-TIXS. Show running time: Ninety minutes with no intermission. More info here.
Review: One Flea Spare (Eclipse Theatre)
Eclipse tightly weaves sexual and cerebral dark comedy
| Eclipse Theatre presents |
| One Flea Spare |
| Written by Naomi Wallace Directed by Anish Jethmalani at Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln (map) through May 22 | tickets: $28 | more info |
Reviewed by Dan Jakes
Charles’ Law: confine elements together, turn up the heat, watch them expand. Prevent them from expanding, and you watch them burst.
It’s a basic principle of chemistry, and a loose outline for any drama in which characters are trapped together during a crisis. The heat, per se, in Naomi Wallace’s 1995 play is in part the Great Plague that ravaged London during the 17th Century, 
and in part the class and sexual inadequacies of her characters: a wealthy couple quarantined inside their home, and the two poor, desperate scavengers who sneak in for shelter.
Twenty five days into a preventative lockdown with boards and a guard (Zach Bloomfield) sealing the couple’s walls and windows, a young servant disguised as a wealthy man’s daughter (Elizabeth Stenholt) and a sailor (JP Pierson) inadvertently extend the couple’s incubation stay from three more days to a full twenty eight. Tensions quickly escalate.
The plague is only the backdrop in Wallace’s story—to some of these characters, it’s more or less a nuisance than a crisis. The real threats within the estate are offenses to each others’ presumptions and social sensibilities: sexual bargaining, class warfare, homoeroticism…One Flea Spare explores these tasty ideas with a steady mix of poetry and prose, absurd comedy and claustrophobic tension.
Even with violence always looming, and several onstage nods to penetration, the experience is more intellectual than visceral. It’s always satisfying to think about, if 
only mostly fun to watch. Underneath the play’s linear-plot exterior lies a mosaic play’s heart, mashing together styles and tones, sometimes with enlightening results; other times, the product is more convoluted.
Director Anish Jethmalani is able to help keep the show grounded in places where Wallace doesn’t, knowing not to overwhelm the tightly packed text. Her straightforward and precise staging provides clarity to themes that could easily otherwise be murky. The cast does likewise. This small ensemble is exceptional, especially Brian Parry as the proud, aging, and sometimes oafish house master. Susan Monts-Bologna achieves sympathy without victimhood as his oppressed wife, and JP Pierson conveys a sense of maturity that’s found somewhere in between a young man’s idealism and an adult’s surrender to reality.
| Rating: ★★★ |
All photos by Scott Cooper
Review: The Metal Children (Next Theatre Company)
A fiery display of uncompromising conflict
|
Next Theatre Company presents |
| The Metal Children |
|
Written by Adam Rapp |
Reviewed by Jason Rost
The inspiration for Adam Rapp’s 2010 play, The Metal Children, now having its Midwest premiere with Next Theatre Company directed powerfully by Joanie Schultz, stems from Rapp’s own personal experience with the subject matter. Rapp’s 1997 real-life young adult novel, “Buffalo Tree”, deals with very different topics than the heated novel his fictional character, Tobin Falmouth (Sean Cooper), has written with The Metal Children. “Buffalo Tree” was a fictional account of a 12-year old boy in a juvenile detention center (something Rapp is also familiar with), while Falmouth’s The Metal Children is a novel revolving around teenage pregnancy and abortion. However, both were banned from the school curriculum lead by an opposition of the Christian right. In Rapp’s play, this sets the stage for a fierce debate between art and religion, modern feminism and the purpose of education.
Back to Rapp’s real-life novel, in 2005, “The Buffalo Tree” was banned from the school curriculum of a Middle American high school, causing a heated debate involving students, teachers and parents. The school board meeting was attended by Rapp and was covered by the New York Times. This was the incident causing Rapp to write The Metal Children, which brings his fictional author into the same scenario—only in many ways the similarities between Rapp’s life and his play end there. The journey he takes us on is both unpredictable and disturbing, as any fan of Rapp’s plays has come to expect from the playwright of such unflinching plays as Red Light Winter.
The play is set in the fictional town of Midlothia. While there are no specifics other than “Middle America” on the exact location, it could be assumed as Pennsylvania due to the moderate distance to New York implied, references to hills and the fact that Muhlenberg, PA was the actual site of Rapp’s 2005 controversy. Tobin Falmouth begins the play filming a video address for the school board debate addressing his controversial book, using a camcorder belonging to his agent, Bruno (Marc Grapey). Tobin is the picture of self deprecation: living in filth, receiving visits from his drug dealer and slutty neighbor, drugs, drinking and clinging onto any scrap of hope his ex-wife will return to him.
Bruno eventually persuades Tobin to make the trek to Midlothia and personally appear at the debate. He is largely convinced by an impassioned letter from a progressive English teacher, Stacey, defending his book. His first remarks after hearing Bruno read the letter are, “She sounds hot. Do you think she’s hot?” Well, flash-forward to a motel room in the middle of nowhere and we learn that Stacey (Paul Fagen) is not the attractive woman Tobin had in mind, but rather a gay man in his thirties who appears very on edge.
As events unfold, Midlothia begins to seem more like a Steven King setting with spray painted cryptic warnings, gold painted teenage girls, driving rain, phone calls with vacuum cleaners on the other end, means of escape destroyed and one creepy looking pig-masked man with nunchucks. Tobin meets his devotees in Edith (strongly played by veteran actor Meg Thalken), who runs the motel, and her daughter, Vera (a defiantly complex Caroline Neff). Our hero continues to test our expectations, however Rapp excels in creating empathy for unspeakable actions.
The school board debate arrives after an evening of unbelievable occurrences. It is led by a civil and church leader, Otto (Bradley Mott). Shultz and her design team create the most perfect atmosphere for this scene. (There were several moments where I felt the urge to raise my hand, shout out and participate in the debate.) Caitlin Collins, as Tami, the conservative Christian student opposed to the book, is terrifyingly fascinating in her accusations that “Tobin Falmouth is attempting to glorify teen pregnancy.” Vera’s rebuttal is determined exclaiming, “To remove art from a culture, is to name that culture dead!” Laura T. Fisher is yet another standout in the debate as Roberta Cupp, the conservative community leader. When Tobin finally speaks, he clearly is less passionate than anyone about his book; he instead tells the heartbreaking story of what compelled him to write The Metal Children. The brilliance of Rapp lies in that the more we learn of the content of this book and its consequences, the more that even the most progressive audience members find it difficult to choose which side is “right.” What is clear is that each side is far too invested in their own cause to ever understand the other.
Shultz’s direction is masterful in her gradual unraveling of these strange events. Scenic designer, Chelsea Warren, creates efficient use of the space using tracked blinds to frame each scene. Shultz’s cast is also of the highest caliber. Cooper is decidedly subtle in his soft-spoken, yet versatile performance as Tobin. A conversation he has with a certain voicemail is devastating. In addition, Cooper has a strong resemblance to Rapp in this somewhat autobiographical role.
Rapp’s plays rarely take place in a realistic world. There are numerous events in his plays that defy society’s logic. However, Rapp is also one of the gustiest playwrights today and embraces fiction without reservation. His plays are decidedly “messy” with open questions, plot points left unsettled and mixed visceral emotions. The Metal Children is no exception, and with this intelligent, emotional and honestly executed production, the boundaries are tested of what contemporary realism can achieve on the stage.
| Rating: ★★★½ |
Next Theatre Company’s Midwest Premiere of Adam Rapp’s The Metal Children continues through May 8th at the Noyes Cultural Center, 927 Noyes Street in Evanston. The performance schedule is: Thursdays at 7:30 p.m., Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. Saturdays, April 23 and 30 and May 7 have an added 4 p.m. matinee. The play runs 2 hours and 15 minutes with one intermission. Tickets are $25 – $40, and can be purchased at nexttheatre.org or by calling 847-475-1875 x2.
Review: Tree (Victory Gardens Theater)
Uncovered secrets create new roots for a Chicago family
| Victory Gardens Theater presents |
| Tree |
| Written by Julie Hébert Directed by Andrea J. Dymond at Victory Gardens Biograph Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln (map) through May 1 | tickets: $20-$50 | more info |
Reviewed by Oliver Sava
What defines a family? Is it common blood? Shared experiences? In Julie Hébert’s Tree, this is the major question South-side Chicagoan Leo (Aaron Todd Douglas) faces when his half-sister Didi Marcantel (Elaine Rivkin) tells him his biological father has died. Didi has come up from Louisiana in hopes of retrieving the letters her father Ray wrote to Leo’s now-senile mother Jessalyn (Celeste Williams) when they were youths, hoping to find an emotional connection to her father’s past that was absent in their present relationship. As Didi tries to latch on to the last bit of family she has left, Leo’s contempt for his white father pushes her away, punishing Didi for her father’s abandonment. Anchored by a stunning central performance from Williams, Tree examines the effect one man had on the people he left behind, and how his death brings them together.
Hébert’s script combines lush lyricism with realistic, intellectual discourse to create a strong distinction between the emotional experience of Jessalyn remembering her letters with the conflict between Leo and Didi. In an incredibly difficult role, Williams does a complete transformation when she revisits her past, altering her voice and body to suggest a woman considerably younger. Although her exact illness isn’t revealed, Jessalyn shows signs of Alzheimer’s, experiencing the occasional moment of clarity but largely forgetful and confused. There’s a scattered energy to Jessalyn’s older characterization that becomes focused when she remembers Ray, and the audience is transported by Hébert’s rich imagery and romantic prose, making the reality of Jessalyn’s illness all the more heartbreaking. Williams’ performance takes us inside the car where she had her first accident (without a license) and to that all-important lake where Ray snuck into the tree without her looking. We fly and fall with her, and she’s the standout in a production full of stellar performances.
Race relations are a large part of Tree, but they never overshadow the larger theme of family. It reminds me of another great play from this season, Route 66’s Twist Of Water (which reopened this week at the Mercury Theatre), sharing a Chicago setting along with a similar ability to tackle racial and gender issues in that is smart but still emotionally powerful. They’re both concerned with finding a definition of family that goes beyond the traditional ideas, and perhaps most significantly, they’re both very funny. More than anything, these plays are saved from melodrama by the humor the playwrights put in the script. Watching fish-out-of-water Didi try to adapt to Leo’s South side hospitality is consistently amusing, and Rivkin’s sweet, amiable portrayal of the good-natured Didi makes Leo’s lashing out against her especially unfair.
 |
 |
 |
 |
Douglas captures the pain that lies underneath Leo’s anger, but his character flaw is that he is constantly jumping to conclusions without all the facts. Didi is trying to connect with her half-brother, the only blood kin she has left, and Leo accuses her of needing to assuage her white liberal guilt. He passes judgments on her lifestyle without any real knowledge about it, but can’t take it when Didi dishes it right back at him. The two performers have wonderful chemistry together, and they aggravate each other so easily it’s easy to see a sibling resemblance. Leo, Didi, and Jessalyn are all looking for a Ray Mercantel that doesn’t exist anymore, and their frustrations push them to react aggressively, both in positive and negative ways. Didi pushes a relationship on Leo, Leo forces Didi away, and Jessalyn – well, you never know what Jessalyn is going to do next.
While the older characters are reeling from Ray’s death, Leo’s daughter JJ (Leslie Ann Sheppard) serves as a witness to the growing instability among them and a voice of reason in the emotional whirlwind of Leo’s home. The consistently wonderful Sheppard gives JJ a cheerful disposition that is immediately welcoming, but she also gives JJ some grit. She doesn’t share her father’s prejudice toward Didi, but when Didi starts snooping around for Ray’s letters, JJ goes into a rage that reveals how protective she is of her fragile father and grandmother.
Andrea J. Dymond directs a deeply moving, incredibly funny production (seriously, Jessalyn gets some amazing one liners) with an integrity in acting and design that elevates Hébert’s script. Jacqueline and Rick Penrod’s set design evokes the title of the play with fanned wooden planks above the actors and a stack of boxes creating a tree trunk through Leo’s home, making Didi’s inspection of the containers a literal dig through her family roots. Charlie Cooper’s lighting evokes the different settings of Jessalyn’s monologues, and beautifully reflects her changing moods, switching from cool blues and warm oranges for her past to stark red for her most extreme moments of confusion and terror. All the elements combine for one powerful examination of the meaning of family, and in the end, family is who will be there for you when times are hardest. Family isn’t blood or experience, it’s compassion.
| Rating: ★★★½ |
Review: The Butler Didn’t! (Metropolis Performing Arts)
Jewel heist hits familiar farce notes
| Metropolis Performing Arts Centre presents |
| The Butler Didn’t! |
| Written by Scott Woldman Directed by Brad Dunn at Metropolis Arts Centre, Arlington Heights (map) through April 17 | tickets: $35-$43 | more info |
Reviewed by Dan Jakes
For anyone who doesn’t look closely at the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre’s promotional materials for its new comedy The Butler Didn’t!, it would be easy to miss that key little word: “new.”
It isn’t. Resident playwright Scott Woldman’s mansion-crime-caper is a venerable checklist for a theatrical form that’s seen its heyday come and go, unabashedly marking off the requisite +5 doors, spastic pace, ‘uh-oh’ twists, and ludicrous premise. Expectedly, the women are sex-obsessed, the men are idiots, and the title-butler is a combination of both. Splash in a little of Neil Simon and a bit of Moliere’s The Imaginary Invalid, and you have a sense of the universe where con-artist and faux-Brit butler Rick resides.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Woldman’s play admittedly doesn’t do much to forward farcical conventions; at times, the lack of audacity is frustrating–it feels like some of the stones laid by the show’s nontraditional darker tone are left unturned–but as it stands, his comedy is fit to sit comfortably alongside more recognizable staples.
Rick (Michael B. Woods), alongside his wise-cracking, why-does-the-Hispanic-always-have-to-be-the-landscaper side-kick Ernesto (Richard Perez), is in the final phase of his Job to End All Jobs at the Podmore estate. With his billionaire boss (David Belew, capable, albeit a little young) asleep upstairs, Rick and Ernesto take a crack at the safe, before (of course) all hell breaks loose. Lies cover lies, mischief proceeds mischief, and innuendo occurs just about everywhere else.
Situational comedy is usually dependent on characters’ perception of high stakes in low-stakes circumstances, a discrepancy only seen by the audience. Suspension of disbelief is mandatory when viewing anything that aims for ‘wacky,’ and The Butler Didn’t! sacrifices some of those required stakes by asking for more than its fair share. Say, when Mr. Podmore’s lawyer, Anna (Elizabeth Dowling) goes gaga at the sight of Ernesto, it’s challenging to stay invested. One second she’s a menacing professional capable of shutting down the entire operation; the next, she’s nearly orgasming in her pant suit. In farce, tinkering too much with plausibility downgrades the humor, an offense both Woldman and director Brad Dunn commit.
 |
 |
The silliness is so-so, and like most farces, it could shave off half an hour. When the Metropolis allows itself to push the envelope a bit, however, the true potential of The Butler Didn’t!’ emerges. At the performance I attended, the audience was more receptive to riskier jokes. Perhaps the Metropolis doesn’t want to offend the sensibilities of its ticket holders. Restraint is admirable; big scores require going all in.
| Rating: ★★½ |
