Tag: Nancy Kolton
The Pajama Game
Music/Lyrics by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross
The Baker’s Wife (in Concert)
By Stephen Schwartz (music and lyrics)
Complete History of America
By Adam Long, Reed Martin & Austin Tichenor
Old habits die hard
Metropolis Performing Arts Centre presents
|Book, Music and Lyrics by Dan Goggin
Directed by David Belew
at Metropolis Performing Arts Centre, Arlington Heights (map)
through June 19 | tickets: $35-$43 | more info
Reviewed by Jason Rost and Dan Jakes
At times, it seems that contemporary nuns exist solely for the purpose of parody. Dan Goggin’s 1985 musical Nunsense, stemming from his line of nun-humored greeting cards, was revolutionary when it came onto the scene with the inappropriate light it shed on the Sisters from Hoboken. Presently, Catholics aren’t in a great place for satire. Financial trouble, dwindling numbers, lawsuits and mainstream appeasement make the once-dominant entity lean closer to the Little Man than the Oppressor. Satire, of course, is all about poking holes in austerity and knocking the Big Man of his ladder; the Church has done a fine job of that on its own. Goggin’s play is more of a nostalgia-bath than a roast, but even so, with Catholics dismissing old-school severity and hands-off ornamentation in favor of a more accessible image, jokes dependent on being silly or naughty with full-habit donned sisters just don’t have the pop they used to. Nevertheless, Metropolis’ production certainly rejuvenates the undeniable phenomenon.
The morbidly clever conceit is that 52 Sisters have died after being poisoned by the convent cook, Sister Julia Child….of God. The surviving nuns were at bingo that night and skipped out on the killer soup. In order to raise money to bury the remaining dead nuns, Sister Mary Regina (Nancy Kolton) organizes a nun-produced fundraiser talent show. The proceedings offer belting nuns, the amnesiac nuns, the cooking nuns, the nuns getting stoned, the nuns kick line-dancing, the nuns shuddering at the scandalous length of Marilyn Monroe‘s skirt, and the nuns mispronouncing pop culture references. Mere redundant gags, they aren’t. No, these are test subjects, empirical data in an unscrupulous study that combs every aspect of convent-oriented humor which lead to the likes of Sister Act and Late Nite Catechism.
When entering Metropolis’ gorgeous Arlington Heights performing arts centre, you may think you’re entering the space of ATC’s Original Grease as the scenic designer, Michael Gehmlich, has created a set that perfectly mimics an old Catholic high school gym-atorium with glittery hand painted Grease posters complimented with Jesus on the cross in stained-glass illuminated above in the rafters. Yousif Mohamed’s lighting design expertly fills the expanse of the space and the light shifts play to the comedy sharply.
Director David Belew draws crisp energetic performances from his talented cast. Kristen Gurbach Jacobson’s choreography is the perfect mix of skill, camp and parody. The multi-talented Nancy Kolton as Sister Mary Regina ultimately carries the show by investing everything into the role, including a hysterical drug trip in which she gives her whole body to. Amy Malouf (Sister Mary Robert Anne) notably ascends above the sentimentality with her spot-on Brooklyn accent and her performance of “I Just Want to Be a Star.”
The success Nunsense and its sequels have enjoyed over the past two and half decades is nothing to shake a ruler at. You might even call Goggin’s shows “Nunsations” (oh wait, he already gave sequel number six that title). After glancing around at the Metropolis audience, it was easy to see why: buried shallowly under stabs at modernization (Snooki and Donald Trump references, anyone?), this nun-humor is an excuse to reminisce. Current and recovering Catholic school alumni eat up an allusion to student-herding clickers. The rest of the proceedings are slathered in well-meaning silliness and elbow-nudging puns.
If you did happen to grow up going to Catholic school, and you haven’t experienced Nunsense, Metropolis’ production is about as fun as this show gets, so “get thee to a nun-…” well, just check out this fine revival of a silly musical sensation that seems to be sticking around at least as long as there are baby boomers still around to repent.
Performances of Nunsense continue through June 19th. Schedule varies week to week and includes evening and matinee performances. The running time is approximately 2 hours with one intermission. Tickets range $35 – 43 and can be purchased online at www.metropolisarts.com or by calling the Box Office at 847.577.2121.
Fat is the new black
|Jedlicka Performing Arts Center presents|
|Bood by Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan
Music/Lyrics by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman
Directed by Dante Joseph Orfei
Jedlicka Performing Arts Center, Cicero (map)
Through July 31 | Tickets: $10-$17 | more info
reviewed by Leah A. Zeldes
In the genre of cult films turned into Broadway musicals, Hairspray, currently in a beautifully voiced production at Jedlicka Performing Arts Center in Cicero, may be exceeded only by Little Shop of Horrors. Both shows take quirky approaches to 1960s culture. And both, in their way, are based on horror films.
Little Shop of Horrors is about a terrorizing, man-eating plant. Hairspray’s subject, to some, seems even more horrifying: Obesity. The plot follows Tracy Turnblad, a plump, bouffant-haired, working-class teenager who yearns to dance on a popular Baltimore TV show, and bring her African-American friends with her. “I want every day to be ‘Negro Day,’ ” she says.
The message of the show has changed somewhat over the years. Fat had yet to become the stuff of nightmares in 1988, when John Waters created his edgy film looking back at the 1960s civil-rights movement. Waters meant it as ironic metaphor when he equated prejudice against people over skin color to bigotry against people over size — much as Randy Newman’s satirical song "Short People" had done a decade before.
During the high racial tensions of the 60’s era, the juxtaposition of fat hatred and racism ranked as high absurdity. Chubbiness was merely unfashionable, while race hatred ran so deep it was unsafe for blacks to venture into white neighborhoods. The comparison remained ridiculous in 2002, when playwrights Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan and songwriters Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman turned the Waters film into a bouncy Broadway musical.
Hairspray ran in New York for more than 2,600 performances before closing early last year, just before the inauguration of our skinny, black president, Barack Obama. While racism is still with us, equality for African Americans has definitely come a long way forward. The position of ample Americans, meanwhile, has deteriorated to the point where fat folks falsely get the blame for everything from the ills of the health-care system to global warming, with the government poised to track body-mass indices and slender First Lady Michele Obama piling on the stigma.
Today, Hairspray’s message, "You’ve got to think big to be big," has a whole new meaning. Yet it remains a wonderful, deservedly popular musical, with witty dialogue, great tunes and an inspiring story, all highlighted in JPAC’s expansive production.
Considerable technical trouble plagued opening night. A larger-than-expected audience overwhelmed the box office, leading to a start some 20 minutes late. The lights often washed out the backdrop projection screen, while some scenes were too dark, and spotlights sometimes failed to follow their targets. They’d have been much better off with a single painted set and simpler, brighter lighting design. So much haze obscured the stage, it looked as if the ventilation system had been clogged by too much hairspray.
Worst of all, audio feedback, buzzes and uneven sound distracted from the fine singers. It’s to be hoped they’ve fixed things by now, but even with all the problems, the cast’s immense talents shone through.
Amanda Nianick stars as a lively Tracy Turnblad, opening with a vastly powerful rendition of "Good Morning, Baltimore," and Micheal Kott gives a droll performance as her mother, Edna — the role played by Divine in the original film. (It rather misses the point of this show to use padded-out performers instead of casting appropriately sized actors, but we’ll let that go.)
TJ Crawford brings lithe moves and a rich voice to Tracy’s detention friend Seaweed J. Stubbs, and petite Dawn Pryor belts out some big sound as his sister, Little Inez. (Aisha) Nikki Greenlee adds potent vocal largesse as their mom, Motormouth Maybelle, with well-rounded renditions of "Big, Blonde & Beautiful" and "I Know Where I’ve Been."
Ryan Hunt makes an engaging Corny Collins, Gabby McConnell puts in some fine comic turns as Tracy’s friend, Penny Pingleton, and Nancy Kolton, playing several roles, is especially hilarious as the prison matron. The rest of the ensemble do splendidly as well.
Music Director Adam Gustafson leads a rockin’ 10-piece band — Amos Gillespie (reeds), Carlotta Mayen (reeds), Ben Scholz (percussion), Mike Brooks (percussion), Cody Siragusa (bass), Sandy Lind (keyboards) and Alex Newkirk (keyboards) — that does the high-energy, Motown-influenced score full justice.
It’s a buoyant if sometimes timid production. Christine Kerr’s often lackluster choreography exhibits few of the sexual overtones that made "colored music" so shocking to 1960s sensibilities. And, though Tracy’s zeal for teen hearthrob Link Larkin is written into the script, the passion that ought to sizzle between the couple seems lacking. Vincent Soto brings a great voice, good looks and some great moves to Link, but he makes a cold lover.
Still, the whopping vocals and hugely hopeful theme of JPAC’s Hairspray overcome its imperfections. Go see it.
Note: Additional senior discount for July 25th matinee – mention “hairdo” when reserving your tickets.
Original Hairspray movie trailer
Still in need of some ‘crisis’ management
|Metropolis Performing Arts Centre presents|
|Mid-life! The Crisis Musical|
|By Bob Walton and Jim Walton
Directed by Robin M. Hughes
at MPAC, 111 W. Campbell St., Arlington Heights (map)
Through June 19 | Tickets: $35-$43 | more info
Reviewed by Leah A. Zeldes
Hot flashes, varicose veins, dimming vision, escaping memories, philandering husbands … these are the subjects of Mid-life! The Crisis Musical, currently at Metropolis Performing Arts Centre in Arlington Heights. The opening number offers a laundry list of the pains of the 40s and 50s … and the rest of this overlong show, like middle age itself, goes downhill from there.
Less a musical than a revue, the show quickly becomes repetitive, with the litany of the first song expanded in a series of thematic songs and skits. The humor expends itself rapidly — these are all jokes we’ve heard before. (And much of the opening-day audience at Metropolis not only lived through them but also at least a decade or two beyond.)
The funniest number, "What Did I Come In Here For?" comically details the problems of short-term memory loss. A mid-life translator interprets the frustrations of aging husbands ("I want to sleep with other women") to their weepy, menopausal wives and vice versa. "He Got What He Deserves" (a low-budget version of "Cell Block Tango" from Chicago) suggests that two-timing, middle-aged lotharios get their just rewards, a sadly untrue contention.
Some of the bits are just plain dumb, like one about a singing mammogram. "The Long Goodbye," a song about the difficulties of caring for elderly parents in senile dementia had the potential to be poignant, but the writers went for cheap laughs instead.
The cast, portraying six nameless middle-aged characters, carries through well, with good timing and fine moves, yet they can’t add much to such lightweight material. Dennis Brown‘s cockney accent seemed a bit distracting, though, and the women — Kate Brown, Elizabeth Haley and Katie Miller — all appear too young for the roles they’re supposed to be playing. Costume Designer Cathy Tantillo apparently tried to address this by putting them in frumpy knee-length khaki skirts with unattractive hem-line borders and maroon tops that emphasize bulges.
Scott Alan Emerick, 41, looks a bit on the youthful side, too, especially in a "Weekend Warriers" skit that portrays him as being the same age as the older men. Haley and David Elliott bring notable voices to their performances, but the music – peppy and uncomplicated – doesn’t give them much scope. (Hear samples on the website.)
Robin M. Hughes uses a rear-stage video screen to introduce each number in a singularly uncreative use of high tech. The videos, mostly ugly, do nothing that wouldn’t have been more effective in live sequences … even an actor just carrying a sign across the stage.
Michael Gehmlich and Adam Veness have constructed an interesting multilevel staircase set, with two proscenium arches studded with 156 lights. It’s a pity that Christie Kerr’s uninspired choreography doesn’t make better use of it.
Getting old may be no joke, but Mid-life! The Crisis Musical won’t do much to lift your spirits.
A spirited show in the suburbs
|Steel Beam Theatre presents|
|By Noël Coward
Directed by Terry Domschke
Steel Beam Theatre, 111 W. Main St., St. Charles(map)
Through May 2 | tickets: $23-$25 | more info
Reviewed by Leah A. Zeldes
Theaters may be fewer and farther between than in Chicago, but such companies as Steel Beam Theatre, Writers’ Theatre and Metropolis Performing Arts Centre continue to show that there’s culture in the suburbs. As airy as an unseen specter, Steel Beam’s Blithe Spirit is a frightfully good time.
Terry Domschke directs a delightful production, full of deft touches. Everything from the carefully arranged period drawing-room set to the clever costumes shows a fine attention to detail. Produced in three acts with two intermissions, just as it would have been in at its 1941 London opening, it makes you understand why the original ran for 1,997 performances amid World War II. The timing could be a trifle more brisk, but that’s quibbling.
Noël Coward’s keen and cutting wit shines in this delectable play. The plot centers on novelist Charles Condomine and his second wife, Ruth, a flippant and debonair couple who invite the local psychic for dinner and a seance. They, and their other guests, Dr. and Mrs. Bradman, are skeptics: The evening is merely a ruse to provide background for Condomine’s upcoming book.
But the medium, Madame Arcati, turns out to be the real thing. She accidentally conjures up Condomine’s deceased first wife, Elvira, who refuses to go away again — turning the Condomine household into an otherworldly menage a trois.
Orange-haired, behatted and draped in necklaces, Donna Steele’s marvelous Madame Arcati galumphs around the stage, jingling, in colorful costumes and comic triumph — at turns fussy old woman and majestic mystic — emanating palpable glee at each spiritual manifestation.
R. Aaron Thomann is ever so urbane as Charles, stirring up martinis and placating his live and ghostly wives with wonderful expressiveness. At first convinced he’s going mad, he selfishly comes to appreciate having his first wife’s witty shade on the premises … at least until the dead woman’s real purpose for reanimating becomes apparent.
Elvira isn’t the kind of ghost who clanks about in chains and a sheet. She’s ethereally lovely and sharp as knives. Although only Charles can see her, the ghostly lady still manages to infuriate the priggish Ruth, who becomes bent on exorcizing her spirited rival.
Jocelyn Mills plays an effervescent Elvira, glittering with ectoplasmic makeup and always ready with a riposte. Katherine Bettinghaus provides counterpoint as a fuming, but elegant, Ruth, although her emotional scenes sometimes seem a little forced. Meredith Koch offers some fine comic turns as the inept maid Edith, hurrying and scurrying, while Thom Reed and Nancy Kolton fill out the cast as the stolid Bradmans.
Blithe Spirit may be Coward’s frothiest comedy, an ethereal confection of a play. While it’s become something of a period piece, there’s life in the old ghost yet — as Steel Beam Theatre’s hilarious production shows.
Sidesplitting performance worth a trip to the ’burbs
Metropolis Performing Arts Centre, Arlington Heights, presents
Out of Order
reviewed by Leah A. Zeldes
I don’t know who the first public official to be caught with his pants down was, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened before men even wore pants. No doubt, soon afterward, the event featured in a raft of dirty jokes. Like philandering politicians, low humor remains always with us, and sometimes even the highest minded of us can’t help laughing.
Metropolis Performing Arts Centre’s "Out of Order" is the funniest thing I’ve seen all year.
Ray Cooney‘s routine bedroom-comedy plot promises much less than this production delivers. With his wife off in the country, suave Richard Willey, a Conservative junior minister in the British government, takes advantage of an all-night parliamentary debate to spend a naughty evening with Jane Worthington, a secretary on the staff of the opposition leader. Instead, they find a dead body in their hotel suite, and Willey calls on his ingenuity and his hapless parliamentary private secretary, George Pigden, to avoid a political scandal.
With the hotel’s supercilious manager, a venal waiter, Jane’s suspicious husband, a private detective and other characters all banging in and out through the suite’s door and malfunctioning window, that’s not so easy, and the fast-talking Willey and George are pulled into an ever more elaborate set of lies and camouflages. Cooney manages to be funny without becoming lewd, which, given the premise, is quite an accomplishment, but he doesn’t stretch the boundaries of this genre.
In fact, this farce has a strong similarity to other bedroom comedies by Cooney, who is best known for "Run for Your Wife" — some of the same characters even appear in ”Two Into One.” Yet, as with the comic but repetitious plots of Thorne Smith or P.G. Wodehouse, that’s a small matter if you don’t encounter them too close together. The script provides only a modicum of the humor, anyway.
The huge hilarity of this production lies in the comic brilliance of the cast, in particular Michael B. Woods as the nebbishy George. At every turn of the plot, Woods expresses George’s appalled horror in each movement of his lanky frame and elastic, Munchlike face. The deft interplay between Woods and Andrew J. Pond’s glib, dry Willey is sidesplitting. As the tortuous plot twists its it way through abruptly disappearing corpses and unexpectedly appearing spouses, Woods just keeps getting better and better.
Sarah Tolan-Mee’s naively sexy Jane, Joe Messina‘s blustering manager and Chuck Sisson’s slow but opportunistic waiter also add notably to the impeccably timed humor. Patrick Tierney chews the scenery a bit as the rampaging Ronnie, but otherwise the cast, also featuring Amy Gorelow, Kevin Kurasch, Lisa Savegnago and Elizabeth Haley (who stood in for Nancy Kolton on opening night), never puts a foot wrong. Adam Veness’ posh hotel suite set, which includes such details as a working flat-screen TV, provides an ideal backdrop for Director David Belew’s dexterous staging.
Don’t miss this one — it’s absolutely worth a trip to the suburbs.
Notes: Adult themes and language. Metropolis Performing Arts Centre is two blocks from the Arlington Heights Metra station and free parking is available in the municipal garage behind the theater.