Passionate passengers tell their stories
|Waltzing Mechanics present|
|El Stories: Red Line|
|Adapted and Directed by Thomas Murray
at City Lit Theatre, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr (map)
through Feb 23 | tickets: $10 | more info
Reviewed by Lawrence Bommer
As it crosses the city, the Red Line delivers its own cross-section within every car on each train. This inexhaustible supply of “war stories”–from bemused or outraged commuters and less than passive passengers–supplies the oral histories in Waltzing Mechanics’ hour-long trove of an urban travelogue.
As fluid as their material, the ten young performers, smoothly blocked by adaptor Thomas Murray, keep their imaginary el ride real. There’s a story for almost every stop from Jackson to Howard, with the action as random and revealing as accidental encounters and unintended intimacies deliver. Happily, given the Mechanics’ tough-loving sympathy for life’s underdogs, there’s little condescension in these vignettes.
So, not only do we hear about the homeless guy who took a dump on the Jackson stop’s platform, we also learn how in his crazy way he tried to warn his fellow travelers not to look before, well, nature took its course.
Imagine the craziest Red line trip you could take from downtown through Uptown to Rogers Park, with close encounters that are sometimes, well, too close for comfort. Along the wild way you meet a loud huckster who creates fake gospel songs to promote her incoherent promotions. A bicyclist who’s also a serial abuser of books from the CPL carefully wraps up evidence of his neglect. A cute blue-eyed stranger reluctantly reveals why he’s heading west–by showing the needle marks on his arms that he hopes will gradually fade away.
A screamer discharges his mania at the station and suddenly silences himself on the train. Between naps, a drunk eats the world’s largest sub sandwich. News of Patrick Swayze’s death spreads like wildfire throughout a car. There’s a caped crusader, two very inept flash-mob “twins,” a diva who cleans her eyeliner brush on the seat, out-of-control kids, an imbecile who thinks the Union Jack is the Nazi swastika, a hand that goes up the wrong butt during a tight trip, a group of guys whose sexist rap is spread all over the car, a jerk who confuses a brush with a push, and all those who just don’t want to get involved, even when someone needs help.
All that the CTA provides so generously for only $2.25 is even more concentrated in this wacky assemblage (which at $10 is a bargain as well). Judging from the title, it’s far from finished, not when there’s still blue, brown, pink, purple and green lines left to expose.
El Stories continues through February 23rd, with 8pm performances Monday-Wednesday @ City Lit Theatre, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr. $10 general admission at door; advanced tickets available here. More info: waltzingmechanics.org/EL_Stories.html
Adapted from original interviews and directed by Thomas Murray
Stage managed by Tina Frey
Race, Art collide in emotionally charged play
|The Artistic Home presents|
|Trouble in Mind|
|Written Alice Childress
Directed by Vaun Monroe
at The Artistic Home, 3914 N. Clark (map)
through March 20 | tickets: $28 | more info
Reviewed by Keith Ecker
While watching the Artistic Home’s engaging production of Trouble in Mind, I couldn’t help but think of Spike Lee‘s 2000 satire “Bamboozled”. For those unfamiliar, the movie revolves around a black television writer who is frustrated with the depictions of African-Americans in entertainment. In an effort to sabotage his career and the network, he pitches the concept of a modern-day minstrel show to his colleagues. Rather than balk, they bite. Two inner-city black men are plucked from obscurity and shoved into the limelight to serve as the show’s stars. The sitcom is a hit, but not without ample psychic costs to those involved.
However, where “Bamboozled” is deficient in summarizing the Catch-22 that is financial success and artistic compromise, trailblazing playwright Alice Childress succinctly and effectively attacks the matter—nearly 50 years before Lee’s attempt.
Trouble in Mind takes place in 1957. A mixed cast is about to start rehearsals for what the business terms a "colored" play. We are introduced to the passionate, self-taught Wiletta Mayer (Velma Austin), a black actress who will be filling the role of the mother. John Nevins (Armand Fields), an educated but green actor, enters. Mayer gives him tips on how to act around white theater professionals. Her advice amounts to doing what you’re told, laughing at the appropriate times and, in general, acting pleasant. It’s information she will later regret.
The play is directed by a domineering no-nonsense white director named Al Manners (John Mossman). Al exhibits every stereotypical laughable trait attributed to his ilk. He uses flowery, overwrought language and overly intellectualizes the dramatic process. Meanwhile, the content of the play is chock full of dumbed-down racist conventions with characters written to be pitied. It’s the kind of piece that leaves the presumably white audience feeling morally superior to their racist white brethren. But despite the fact that they play such laughably unrealistic characters, the black actors go along with the script because, unfortunately, a part is a part.
Trouble arises when Wiletta’s character instructs her son, who is on the run from an angry white lynch mob, to surrender. Wiletta feels the action is disingenuous. Al is unmoved by her requests to reconsider the script. Instead, the two get into a heated argument that serves as the emotionally charged climax of the play.
The actors in this production give it their all. Austin fills her role with a great passion, turning up the ferocity as Wiletta’s frustration mounts. Meanwhile, Mossman is repulsive, yet sympathetic and even likeable, as the blindly driven director. The actors all appear exceptionally present in their roles, constantly emoting and reacting to the slightest action on stage.
One qualm I have – I do wish the performers would pause a bit more during some of the audience’s heartier laughs. It is very easy to miss a line or two of dialogue, much of which is so rich in content and humor that it’s a shame for it to go unheard. In addition, some might find the play tedious due to its lack of external action. Instead, the story arc audience’s are accustomed to is relegated to Wiletta’s internal struggle with her role.
The Artistic Home‘s Trouble in Mind is a solid production. Thespians and lay audiences alike will enjoy the self-deprecating nature of the play’s humor. But the larger takeaway is the message that when it comes to race and entertainment, rarely are issues black and white.
Featuring Guest Artist Velma Austin and Ensemble Member John Mossman; as well as Ensemble Members Frank Nall and Eustace Allen; and Guest Artists Kim Chelf, Armand Fields, Tom Lally, Cola Needham and Kelly Owens.
Director: Vaun Monroe
Assistant Director: A.J. Ware
Stage Manager: Loretta Rode
Assistant Stage Manager: Maggie Neumeyer
Dramaturg: Matt Ciavarella
Set Designer: Joseph Riley
Lighting Designer: Jess Harpenau
Costume Designer: Lynn Sandburg
Prop Designer: Lindsay Monahan
Sound Designer: Adam Smith
Playwright: Alice Childress
Superbly cast and acted, ‘Bordello’ exposes a claustrophobic world
|Chicago Dramatists presents|
|Written by Aline Lathrop
Directed by Meghan Beals McCarthy
at Chicago Dramatists, 1105 W. Chicago (map)
thru March 6 | tickets: $32 | more info
Reviewed by Paige Listerud
If prostitution is performance, then Aline Lathrop’s world premiere play, Bordello, at Chicago Dramatists gives audiences a backstage pass to the reality of sex workers at a legal Nevada brothel. Director Meghan Beals McCarthy drives Lathrop’s intricate, tightly woven script forward with beautifully humanized performances from a taut all-woman ensemble. The show opens with the women lined up to present their hooker aliases during the bordello’s yearly “customer appreciation night.” But what happens in the front of the house stands in sharp contrast to the stark reality these women reveal in the break room, where they unglamorously dress down in t-shirts, sports bras, exercise pants and bathrobes.
Far from being a source of titillation, Bordello is a study in claustrophobia. Each character’s individual circumstances restrict her as surely as the bordello’s bizarrely regulated sex work environment. Indeed, the women call their workplace “Pussy Penitentiary.” No phone calls allowed from Thursday through Saturday. No privacy in their rooms since locks on the doors are forbidden. Every room is bugged. Of what they earn, 50% goes to the house; 20% goes to transportation if the johns take a cab all the way from Vegas. Even though they live at the bordello and pay its overhead, meals are $7. Further restricting their liberty is the fact that so many work for a pimp outside the brothel. Indeed, “Who’s your pimp?” becomes the first question asked of a new inmate. Finally, there’s the bell that summons the women to the line-up like a cattle call.
Like all good prison dramas, once it’s been established how thoroughly the characters are controlled, how they attempt to control and upstage each other becomes the central dynamic. Sisterhood isn’t terribly powerful in Lathrop’s drama—an extremely depressing thought, considering all the other conditions the women endure. But Lathrop’s dialogue is tough, fast-paced, and humorous as well as cutting. As much as the characters jealously defend their place in the bordello’s hierarchy—particularly with regard to Andy, the owner–they also exhibit tremendous vulnerability and capacity for nurturing in the middle of a dog-eat-dog environment.
It would be difficult to find more well cast production. Joanne Dubach plays Kitten for all the heartbreak the role has in store, turned out by her pimp Jimmy at 11, now struggling to find her way at the bordello at 18. Katherine Keberlin plays Jewell, the bordello’s porn star celebrity, with tough and glorious panache. Dana Black’s rendering of Mandy seals her problem child attitude with spontaneous vulnerability. Her relationship with the sharp and sassy Lotus (Melissa Canciller) is an inspired choice. Ariana Dziedzic strikes the right note of desperate and exploited co-dependency as Michelle. Kyra Morris’ Godiva, an Iraq War veteran, is rendered with fierce assurance and nuanced cracks in her otherwise strong facade. Honey (Marguerite Hammersley) warmly and sensually rounds out the cast as the older working girl of the bunch.
If there is any criticism to be made, it’s the way the playwright structures a mystery she’s planted within the plotline. At one point, razor blades are discovered in one prostitute’s bar of soap and the break room becomes tense over who among the women planted them there. But it’s a mystery that becomes lost in the interplay of the women’s lives. By the time the real culprit is revealed in the second act, the discovery lacks impact and the play’s ending cuts short of any time to consider its ramifications for the characters involved. A little editing to build foreshadowing and suspense would make for a more united, cohesive and compelling drama.
Too much quirk, not enough substance
|The Neo-Futurists present|
|Laika: Dog in Space|
|Written by Rob Neill, Eevin Hartsough and Jill Beckman
Directed by Phil Ridarelli
Music by Carl Riehl
at The Neo-Futurarium, 5153 N. Ashland (map)
thru March 12 | tickets: $15 | more info
Reviewed by Oliver Sava
The Neo-Futurists are renowned for their experimental theater works, but the transfer of their New York branch’s Laika: Dog In Space tries too hard to be quirky and off-kilter, resulting in a scattershot production that is hard to connect with. Building on the true story of Laika, the first mammal sent into space, and incorporating elements of children’s story The Little Prince and cult classic television series “The Prisoner”, Laika: Dog In Space is intended to be a meditation on the nature of isolation, but the message gets lost in the execution. And while Neo-Futurist shows are often informal, they are usually not messy, which makes the unpolished presentation of Laika even more disappointing.
For those unfamiliar, Laika was a stray dog that Russian scientists sent into space in Sputnik 2, making it the first mammal in orbit, but killing Laika in the process. Writer/performers Rob Neill, Eevin Hartsough, and Jill Beckman imagine that Laika lives on in “The Village” (pronounced “vill-AHj”) an isolated space rock where she is visited by a small fairy that tells stories to pass the time. While the fantastic elements of The Little Prince are apparent, the influence of “The Prisoner” is harder to grasp, beyond giving Laika’s rock the same name as the location of Patrick McGoohan’s Number 6 and putting the performers in white lab coats with numbers 1, 2, and 6 on them. A voice instructs the performers on what steps to take next, whether that is “Isolation Investigation,” “Prisoner Trajectory,” or “Storytime,” but the separate elements struggle to come together in a coherent manner.
The Neo-Futurist’s Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (our review ★★★★), has given them a reputation for creating mini-plays that run the gamut from comic to serious to smashing a potato with a sledge hammer. Laika alters the format slightly by telling multiple stories that are connected through the common themes of space, isolation, and imagination, ranging from personal anecdotes from the actors, historical accounts of Laika’s origins, and rock and roll musical interludes. The musical scenes suffer from the volume of the band, which drowns out whatever the actors are singing whenever all four members are playing. Either the actors need to be amplified more, or the band needs to play quieter, a difficult task in the Neo-Futurists’ small space.
A heavier emphasis on technical aspects than the usual Neo-Futurists production means more opportunities for things to go wrong, and despite the casual atmosphere of the show, it’s difficult to overlook Laika’s technical issues. One TV screen displays a “Line In” box rather than the images of the other screens, the pulley rig for Laika’s Village set malfunctions at the end of the production, and an audience interaction portion involving cassette players and headphones is an ill-timed mess. By trying to fit too much, the individual parts suffer, yet despite Laika’s misgivings, when the actors get explicit about the intent of their production, the script finally clicks.
While I usually have issues with plays that don’t follow the “show, don’t tell” rule, Laika: Dog In Space needs those moments where the actors pause and explain just what is going on, otherwise the show makes no sense. The play’s themes of reality vs. imagination, fact vs. belief, and isolation vs. community become clear once the actors flat out say that those are the concepts they’re trying to get across, but I wish it were evident during the more abstract moments of the show. The production tries to create a sense of community within the room, whether it is through making borsch that the audience can all eat after the show or by pulling audience members on stage to drink Tang upside down, but these elements fail to enlighten the deeper message of the play. Despite being well-performed, the script needs a stronger focus and the technical aspects need to be cleaned up if Laika: Dog In Space hopes to truly take off.
Regular performances continue through March 12, playing Thurs/Fri/Sat at 8:00pm. Two Monday night performances: February 21 and 28 at 8:00 p.m. Tickets are $15, $10 for students/seniors with ID, or pay-what-you-can on Thursdays. All performances take place at The Neo-Futurarium, 5153 N. Ashland. Get your tickets now…
Vegan play is all potatoes, no meat
|XIII Pocket Ensemble presents|
|Written by Laura Jacqmin
Directed by Megan Shuchman
at Theater Wit, 1225 W. Belmont (map)
thru Feb 27 | tickets: $12-$20 | more info
Reviewed by Keith Ecker
There are a couple positive things about XIII Pocket’s Dead Pile. For one, the play features some impressive acting talent. Justin James Farley as the animal-rights investigator protagonist delivers his lines with a distinct genuineness, even when the script is laughably melodramatic. Likewise, Andy Lutz (making his Chicago debut) injects some much-needed levity into his role as the alcoholic, antagonistic farmhand.
The other compliment I’ll pay is that – for a play that centers around such hot-button issues as animal rights, food production and ethical veganism – it avoids the pitfall of being too preachy. We never get that worn diatribe about the systemic abuses that plague dairy farms and meat producers. After all, propaganda (even if it is propaganda that this theater critic agrees with) does not necessarily make for good storytelling. Unfortunately, even without the predictable soapboxing, Dead Pile is dead on arrival.
The play is about an animal rights investigator named Jeremy who is sent out on assignment by his non-profit boss (Chip Davis) to infiltrate a dairy farm. Once on the farm, Jeremy encounters a colorful cast of trite, two-dimensional caricatures. We have Russell (Mark Minton), the farmer’s progressive son who wants to transform his daddy’s property into an organic farm. Then there’s R.J. (Lutz), the tough farmhand who’s aggressive with women, yells at football games and likes beer too much. And finally we have Nance (Allie Long), the superfluous love interest who has bigger dreams than to be bound to an Indiana farm.
As Jeremy conducts his investigation, he’s continually pressured by his non-profit supervisors to gather animal abuse evidence so they can make a bust. Meanwhile, he’s warming up to Nance and Russell, which could compromise matters. It also means he’s probably not a competent investigator, but I guess that’s beside the point.
Playwright Laura Jacqmin‘s inhumane treatment of the audience is worthy of a PETA investigation. She muddles the play with unnecessary details while simultaneously robbing us of what should be the most dramatic scenes. The fact that Jeremy is black is brought up too many times without enough justification for its presence. Are we supposed to be surprised that not all Indiana farmers are racist bigots? And why end the first act with a frantic voice over, when you could just stage what sounds like a really engaging scene? And what about the big reveal, that moment that the audience has been anticipating the entire play where Jeremy’s status is revealed? It is done so swiftly and with no impact that it’s pointless that he reveals it at all.
Another major flaw is the melodrama. The biggest offending scene is one in which Jeremy and Nance share what might be the most forced intimate moment I have ever seen staged. Seriously, this scene has everything, from a Lifetime-esque sob story about Jeremy’s invalid brother to Nance begging Jeremy to take her with him when he leaves because, after all, anywhere is better than here.
I reserve additional criticism for Megan Shuchman, whose direction comes across as thoughtless. What purpose does it serve to have Davey visible to the audience throughout the entire play? What is the deal with the set design? With all the thrown about windowpanes, wood scraps and bric-a-brac it resembles the eye of a tornado more than a farm. Why waste stage space with an office and a bedroom you barely use while your actors are forced to largely perform in an ambiguous setting?
So while I applaud Jacqmin for striving to craft a story that refuses to preach to the choir, I fault her for producing an amateur script where the audience is robbed of sympathetic characters and climaxes. Concentrate on writing a good play with a great story, compelling scenes and dynamic characters. Without that as your base, your audience will wonder, "Where’s the beef?"
Dead Pile continues thru February 27th, running Thursdays-Sundays, February 4-27, at 8pm. Performances occur at Stage 773, 1225 W. Belmont, Chicago. Tickets priced at $20 general admission and $12 student/senior. To purchase tickets, call the Stage 773 box office at 773-327-5252. More info at http://www.xiiipocket.com.
Endless scene changes stifle strong ensemble work
|AstonRep Theatre Company presents|
|Written by Patrick Marber
Directed by Rob Cramer
at Heartland Studio Theatre, 7016 N. Glenwood (map)
through March 5 | tickets: $15 | more info
Reviewed by Barry Eitel
Patrick Marber’s magnum opus Closer hits like a Classical tragedy with “Friends” era embellishment. Marber won a shelf-full of awards and recognition for the play, but has since gone on to craft such garbage as “The Tourist” screenplay. In 2004, he turned the play into a Julia Roberts/Jude Law vehicle and found raving mainstream audiences. Closer is now one of about five plays you’ll probably find on any given Borders’ drama section.
Despite the hype, the play packs a punch, drawing comparisons to Brits like Noel Coward and Harold Pinter. Unlike much of the schlock coming out of the late ‘90s/early aughts (Proof, anybody?), Marber writes harrowing thematic depth and dense, conflicted characters. The play does indeed feel like a period piece of the ‘90’s.
AstonRep Theatre Company’s mission is to bring theatre to non-theatre audiences, which perhaps explains choosing such a well-known piece for their second production. Snuggly fit in the BoHo space in Rogers Park, their production doesn’t seem to go anywhere conceptually. What saves the show from total destruction is Marber’s deft writing sensibilities and an incredibly talented cast.
Overall, the production feels like an acting class final. The talent on-stage contrasts starkly with the poor production values, creating a strange rift that never resolves.
The four-actor piece follows two men and two women over a few years. The characters meet, have sex, fall in love (or not), and inevitably break up and squash each others’ hearts, not always in that order. Dan (Ray Kasper), an obituary writer, meets Alice (newcomer Aja Wiltshire), an ex-stripper prone to falling in front of moving cars. As the months go on, Anna (Amy Kasper) and Larry (Robert Tobin) get thrown into the mix. Affairs spiral off in all sorts of directions, most end in emotional explosions. Then there is the making up, marriages, divorces, and long talks in strip clubs.
Ray Kasper, although too old for the part, works well against Wiltshire, easily the most charming member of the cast. Although he can’t nail Larry’s anger, Robert Tobin finds and plays up the humor. Amy Kasper makes bold choices from the beginning. The cast struggle with some of the weightier moments of the play, although they are always in sync with the dramatic arch of the piece.
Director Rob Cramer’s production is extremely hampered by amateurish stumbling blocks. The transitions are the most glaring issues, making a 90 minute script into well over 2 hours. There are twelve scenes in the play. Here, each transition is done in blackout, without any music, and without any creativity. The AstonRep gang forgets that this is all part of the show, too. Designer Lea Tobin’s set feels rushed and inadequate. We see all the wires, but we shouldn’t. I wish Cramer lessened everything and just focused on his cast. A simpler touch would make the show quicker, clearer, and more engaging.
I’ll be honest, considering the missteps, I thought this was going to be a groaner of a production. But the cast really pull the play together, forging the believably convoluted relationships that Marber requires. Even the scene where Dan and Larry interact in a sex chat room, for example, is hilariously crude yet Kasper and Tobin use it to reveal quite a lot about each character.
Marber’s writing dabbles a bit in romantic comedy, melodrama, and tragedy, but Closer defies any neat Hollywood genre placement. Unlike many writers of our time, he allows the story to drive itself in any direction it needs. The folks behind AstonRep understand this, but they aren’t able to articulate it.
An Easy Day’s Night
|Broadway in Chicago presents|
|Rain – A Tribute to the Beatles|
|Written by The Beatles
at Oriental Theatre, 24 W. Randolph (map)
thru Feb 13 | ticket: $35-$75 | more info
Reviewed by Lawrence Bommer
For baby boomers wanting to share their childhood with their kids, for all the true-blue or late-blooming fans of the Fab Four whose great regret is that they never got to see the world’s greatest quartet in concert, or for folks who like to watch great songs return to their source, Rain should be human catnip for rockers and rollers everywhere. In two hours the ardent crowd at the Oriental Theatre get back The Beatles–from their black-and-white debut on “The Ed Sullivan Show” (a 1964 debut seen by 73 million viewers) to the hippie splendor of Sergeant Pepper and His Lonely Hearts Club Band to the transcendental meditation phase that mingled with anti-war ballads to, well, just a final nostalgic sing-along that gels all their acts together.
Providing context and much non-negotiable nostalgia, projections, vintage commercials, psychedelic animation, costume changes, and closed-circuit coverage (which combine the actual audience with clips from the Beatles 1965 concert at Shea Stadium) bring the 60s to life along with the music that stamped our memories.
Like the long-running Beatlemania, this life-sized simulation of the magnificent moppets spans their too-brief career. All the classics are performed live (too many to name but how wonderfully it ends with “Let It Be” and “Hey Jude”!) by the very skilled if not always perfectly matched Steve Landes, Graham Alexander, Tom Teeley and Doug Cox, as the Liverpool legends, with Chris Smallwood on percussion and keyboards. There are a fewer lesser known gems, like “That Boy,” that might even trigger some new nostalgia, if that’s possible.
Ironically, this retrospective has been together longer than the Beatles ever were, a testament to the persistence of fame even in tribute form. No question, this is accuracy itself, except for the fact that it’s being done in 2011 for almost three generations more than could have seen the originals. But there’s nothing like making up for lost time.
Finger Lickin’ Good!
|American Theater Company presents|
|The Big Meal|
|Written by Dan LeFranc
Directed by Dexter Bullard
at American Theater, 1909 W. Byron (map)
through March 6 | tickets: $20-$40 | more info
Reviewed by Katy Walsh
By the time an average person is 50 years old, he will have consumed over 50,000 meals. Annual sit-down celebrations to drive-through-minivan-feasts, big and small life moments revolve around sharing food. American Theater Company presents the world premiere of The Big Meal.
A server checks out her last table and goes home with him. Their casual hook-up leads to dating. The courtship heats up to love. The intense affection spirals into indifference. They break-up. A chance encounter leads to make-up sex. They get engaged then married. Their romance is a whirlwind… of minutes! The evolution of Nicki and Sam’s lives are illustrated by quick snippet scenes around meals. Initially, it’s just the couple. Later, it’s their parents and children. And not much later, it’s their children’s children. Fifty plus years of bite-size morsels make two lifetimes. The Big Meal is a hearty entrée of life with all the fixings.
Playwright Dan LeFranc penned a meaty story about family. With some prime choices casted, Director Dexter Bullard flame broils it to perfection. Eight actors, from kids to seniors, play multiple roles. Always at the table, Nicki and Sam are played by six actors at various life stages. They age, change and don’t change. It’s the reality of relationships over time. The brilliance of the sustenance is the subtle and distinct flavors. Seeing multiple generations interacting through the years is seeing the whole family tree through the forest. There are the small discoveries, like his dad was a racist so he tells off-color jokes. His mom drank, so he drinks. To bigger moments, she was ignored by her grandpa and her father so she has dysfunctional relationships with men including her son. LeFranc uses overlapping dialogue to create an organic experience. Bullard stages it with tables and chairs continually revolving. The volume and pace are chaotic life happenings. The level of activity halts abruptly for poignant moments to showcase a person’s ‘last supper.’ It’s the all-you-can-eat life banquet with heaping helpings of love and death.
This talented cast provides a buffet of tasty moments. Collectively, they mesh family style. Individually, they seamlessly morph into someone else. A particularly entertaining transformation is Andrew Goetten playing four different boyfriends in a four minute span. Lindsay Leopold is hysterically neurotic as the youngest version of Nicki. The chemistry between Lia D. Mortensen and Philip Earl Johnson as the midlife couple is well-balanced angst and contentment. Will Zahrn embraces multiple personalities with flourish going from prick to party guy to curmudgeon. Peggy Roeder makes hilarious side comments and then ends the show in a powerful silent haunting visual. Noah Jerome Schwartz and Emily Leahy play several versions of precocious kids delightfully… because they aren’t yours.
The Big Meal is life ordered off the menu. Thought provoking! Knowing preservatives don’t keep anything good indefinitely, ask for the specials but get what you want out of life. And definitely look at the dessert menu. The Big Meal, reservations recommended!
The Big Meal continues through March 6th, with performances Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8pm, and Saturdays and Sundays at 3pm . Running Time: Seventy-five minutes with no intermission