Items filtered by date: November 2007

Dead Man’s Cell Phone- its title a built in spoiler alert - opens with an unbeatable scene: In a nearly deserted café, the young woman Jean (Cydney Moody) dining alone is disturbed by the repeatedly ringing cellphone at the next table.

The young man sitting there with his back to us makes no effort to answer it. In frustration she walks over to confront him, and gets a shocking surprise. Then she answers the phone – it is Mrs. Gottlieb, seeking her son, Gordon, the man whose back is to us – and Jean tells her he can’t answer.

Jean continues to answer more phone calls from relatives and business associates. She soon becomes enmeshed in the family and its affairs, and what we learn are Gordon’s unseemly business dealings. That set-up was enough to make me see this play for a second time – I had been so thrilled by Steppenwolf’s 2008 production that I bought the script and rave about the play – it has also made me a fan of Ruhl, a Macarthur Genius and Yale drama professor.

Ruhl's scripts, especially Dead Man's Cell Phone, go well beyond the ordinary, bundling sometimes conflicting dramatic elements – the literal storyline of the plot, but infused with absurdism and serving up commentary on religious, philosophical, and psychological issues. All that gives Dead Man’s Cell Phone true substance, but the audience also gets an entertaining show that is largely a romantic comedy – and very funny at that.

Among the most entertaining aspects of Dead Man’s Cell Phone is the irreverence. Soon after that café scene, we meet Mrs. Gottlieb onstage, a well-off matron, and now delivering a eulogy at her son Gordon’s funeral. Describing herself as non-religious, Mrs. Gottlieb (her name, ironically, mean’s God’s Love) praises the soaring sanctuary.

I’m not sure what to say. There is, thank God, a vaulted ceiling here. I am relieved to find that there is stained glass and the sensation of height. Even though I am not a religious woman I am glad there are still churches. Thank God there are still people who build churches for the rest of us, so that when someone dies – or gets married – we have a place to - I could not put all of this – in a low-ceilinged room – no – it requires height.

Then a cell phone goes off and Mrs. Gottleib swears. In minutes she violates a sacred space, taboos on foul language, funerary propriety; she is off-hand about her son’s religious service, and the church in which it takes place. It’s subversive, and very funny.

High praise is due for The Comrade theater group's selection of Dead Man’s Cell Phone. It is well done, but compared to other versions perhaps a bit more “in your face” (and maybe a little off script). Director Arianna Soloway has chosen to give the overall production a “noir” flavor, and adds theatrical flourishes that serve as commentary on how cellphones have become mandatory appendages for humans.

In the 12 years since Ruhl wrote this script, cell phones have insinuated themselves even more eventfully into our lives. This production at Greenhouse Theater has elaborate scene changing routines, with actors dressed in trench coats and fedoras to move sets, and holding a phone on-high as they leave. But arguably this puts an emphasis on an aspect of the play that mattered to Ruhl. And perhaps it's a matter of preference; I like a leaner approach that relies more on the language and timing for Sarah Ruhl’s devastatingly funny lines.

But the audience around me was loving this show, and there was a lot of laughter. Bryan Breau as Gordon turned in the best performance, while Mike Newquist as his younger brother Dwight and Lynette Li as Gordon’s widow Hermia were very strong in keeping the intellectual mayhem afloat. Cydney Moodey carries off well Jean as Everyman, and this seems to be exactly as Ruhl intended. 

The night I saw the show, Caroline Latta as Mrs. Gottlieb had all the imperiousness Ruhl must have a intended, but some of the humor fell flat because the timing was off. (When Jean is rescued by Dwight in one scene, Mrs. Gottlieb asks her if she would like “a cold compress, some quiche” and the interval between those phrases is the difference between funny ha ha and funny weird.) 

Titles of Sarah Ruhl's plays suggest her outlook: How to Transcend a Happy Marriage, For Peter Pan on her 70th Birthday, In the Next Room, or the vibrator play, The Clean House and Stage Kiss (I’ve seen the last three). She is a two-time Pulitzer Prize finalist and a Tony Award nominee. Her plays have been produced on Broadway, and translated into 14 languages.

Withal, this show is highly recommended: an opportunity to see Dead Man's Cell Phone performed live should not be missed. It's at the Greenhouse Theater through March 10, 2019.

All apologies to the teachers and professors who groomed me to be a ceaseless reader and sporadic writer — I never finished Anna Karenina. But while I never plowed through all 900 pages of Tolstoy’s novel, moments from the book have stayed with me. One of them is just a line, one seemingly effortless line among pages full of them, and what a line it is: “All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”

As I reflect on the variety, the charm, and the beauty I was privileged to behold at the Joffrey Ballet’s world premiere of Yuri Possokhov’s production of his countryman’s classic, I realize I witnessed a whole world of light and shadow being created right there on the Auditorium Theatre’s stage.

The creation of that entire world was, most obviously, performed by Possokhov’s choreography carried out by the Joffrey’s outstanding company, of course. Victoria Jaiani’s Anna navigates said world in both light and shadow — beautiful but damaged, faced with reality but delirious. Her husband Karenin, towers over the stage, as portrayed by the magnificent Fabrice Calmels, as a stately, stern husband and father and statesman. Just as stately, while also boyish and beautiful, Alberto Velazquez’s Vronsky lures the audience just as he lures poor Anna. And parallel to the love triangle and tragedy that envelope those three is the love story between Yoshihisa Arai’s Levin and Anais Bueno’s Kitty. If the former affair gives us the shadow, then the latter relationship brings it into the light.

These lights and shadows do not flicker before us thanks solely to the dancers, however. No, the spectacle of sight and sound beyond the dancing are every bit as stunning. Tom Pye’s sets and David Finn’s lighting navigates from dusky railyards to sunny Tuscany, from opium dreams to canapé flings. Of the many delights dished out by the Joffrey’s Nutcracker, perhaps my favorite was its use of projections, and Finn Ross’ projections for 'Anna Karenina' equal those, coloring the story and conjuring spirits.

But from curtain to curtain, the visual thrills are always complemented and often eclipsed by Ilya Demutsky’s original score directed by Scott Speck. The Chicago Philharmonic’s accompaniment, shifting seamlessly from elegance to dissonance, while always both classic and contemporary, is joined by Lindsay Metzger’s mezzo-soprano — who literally joins the show by the end — to craft this world of light and shadow in multiple dimensions that quicken multiple sensations.

So join the Joffrey Ballet at the Auditorium Theatre for Anna Karenina through February 24, as all of these world-class talents work together to shade and illuminate, to craft and create the variety and the charm and the beauty one would expect from a hefty literary classic written a century-and-a-half ago and half a world away.

What was meant to be a run somewhere in the neighborhood of four to eight weeks, became a resident show for Windy City Playhouse, so popular in fact, a new home was created nearly a year later to hold the run indefinitely. The new venue, Windy City Playhouse South (2229 S. Michigan) is now the home for ‘Southern Gothic’ the smash hit play that shows no signs of slowing down. The immersive theater experience co-created by Windy City Playhouse Artistic Director Amy Rubenstein is truly unique and it’s not at all beyond the possibility that this show could become Chicago’s next Million Dollar Quartet, as far as a show that went on an open run for several years.

The show centers around a house party containing four couples in Ashford Georgia on June 30th, 1961. Ellie and Beau Couttier (Sarah Grant and Michael McKeogh) are hosting Suzanne Wellington’s 40th birthday party and it doesn’t start off very well after the caterer doesn’t show up, and the Couttier’s are forced to throw together appetizers and desserts. Scrambling through their refrigerator and cabinets, the two throw together frosting on graham crackers, Cheez-it on crackers and other fun creations. As guests arrive, the party starts off on a light note but quickly goes off the rails as secrets come out and Tucker Alsworth (Ben Page) shows up with Cassie Smith (Arielle Leverett), a woman of color – in 1961 Georgia, where, for many, it was acceptable to enjoy Harry Belafonte on the radio but not socially acceptable to have him over for dinner. As the play progresses, multiple story lines take shape - each fascinating in their own right, with everything eventually coming together quite nicely.

So…the dialogue is riveting and the performances outstanding. Sounds like a solid production, but why all the fuss?

Because, you – the audience, are invited to the party – like, really. And, if you’re like me – someone who enjoys going out but prefers to avoid mundane small talk with acquaintances or strangers, this party is for you.

Audience members can gather in the front yard area of the mid-century modern home or choose to travel from room to room in its interior. There’s not a bad seat in the house (literally). The story moves from room to room (even the bathroom) and you, as the “invited guest” can choose to follow whichever story line you like. There are benches along the walls of the home if you prefer to sit for a bit, but chances are you’ll be moving back and forth a fair amount of the time to collect as much action as possible. And don’t be shy. Feel free to grab any of the snacks that the Couttier’s provide for the guests. Tom Collins are also served (non-alcoholic version available upon prior request). It’s a party! And all you have to do is sit back (and/or walk around) and soak in a hilarious party gone wrong.

Of course, the audience (limited to 30 guests for obvious space reasons) is asked to do their best to stay along the walls and not interact with the actors, who by the way are spectacular at focusing on each other despite the distraction of a moving crowd. Yes, each finely-tuned actor is dialed into their character and the others as though the audience did not exist.

Superbly directed by David H. Bell and wonderfully written by Leslie Liataud, the play includes a great amount of humor, comes with a handful of intriguing story lines, includes eight stand out performances and a set that will certainly make many reminisce about their childhood home (depending on how old one is) or maybe their grandparents house thanks to the fine attention to detail by the talented Windy City Playhouse design team.

Victor Holstein as Charles Lyon, Erin Barlow as Lauren Lyon, Paul Fage as Jackson Wellington and Amy Malcom as birthday girl, Suzanne Wellington round out a splendid cast, that, along with the other actors already mentioned, create a most memorable night for audience members in this very special production.

Do not be deterred by the $90-$100 ticket prices – steep at first glance – but it’s really not. This brilliantly put together show is well worth the cost of admission as it is something you cannot experience anywhere else. In fact, you might even opt to see the play more than once just so you can follow a different story line or see it from a different perspective. There’s a reason this play is a hit and is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Highest recommendation.

‘Southern Gothic’ is being performed at Windy City Playhouse South indefinitely. For tickets and/or more show information, visit windycityplayhouse.com.

*Extended through October 27th

“I’m a better version of myself, when I’m by myself,” says Nora in Lucas Hnath’s sequel to Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. The play takes place some fifteen years after her departure at the end of the original play. Steppenwolf is one of the first regional theaters to revive the 2017 Broadway blockbuster, which starred Steppenwolf ensemble member Laurie Metcalf. Both Hnath and Metcalf were nominated for Tony awards for the play, Metcalf taking home the Best Actress award.

With the exception of ‘Grease 2’, sequels are rarely good. That said, it’s an interesting thing when done in theatre. In recent years we’ve seen a sequel to ‘Hamlet’, ‘The Crucible’ and now Ibsen’s feminist drama ‘A Doll’s House’. Before groaning, “but they’re ruining it!” consider that Hnath’s script stands alone and is probably closer to a satire than a direct sequel. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ picks up at the very door Nora slams at the end of Ibsen’s play. It is fifteen years later, and she comes back with a favor to ask of her ex-husband. What follows is a humorous manifesto in defense of being single. And no, you don’t need to remember the fine points of Ibsen’s original to enjoy Hnath’s updated version.

Sadly, Laurie Metcalf is not joining this revival but that’s just fine because ensemble member Sandra Marquez is well suited for the role. It’s a short play, just barely hitting the 90-minute mark, but in that time there’s a perfect banter between Nora and her former governess Anne-Marie, played by the indelible Barbara E. Robertson. Marquez spends every moment of the play on stage and that often includes swaths of monologue. In a costume designed by Izumi Inaba, her performance is captivating. She nails all the jokes and maybe even finds new humor in the script. Though short, her scene with Celeste M Cooper is ripe with tension. Cooper plays her estranged daughter with a cool and mysterious sense of doublespeak.

If a ‘A Doll’s House’ is about the suffocation of marriage, then ‘Part 2’ is more of a denunciation of pairing off in general. In fact, Nora mentions that you’re not marrying the person you’ll end up with, you’re marrying who they are right now. And people change. This observation alone is somewhat disturbing but truly encapsulates the message Hnath is getting at. The play ends abruptly but the point is made. Maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, but like Marquez’ performance, it takes a lot of strength to stand on one’s own.

Director Robn Witt’s vision for this show is cool. We would imagine that anything in the world of Ibsen would be typical high production cost period piece. Witt strips it down for a minimal approach, nearly the only color is the bright yellow door Nora comes in, and then out of again. The costumes suggest period, but the dialogue is exceptionally modern. Though there are Voss water bottles on stage, we never forget what time period we are in. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ at Steppenwolf is a near perfect revival that doesn’t go in for a carbon copy of the Broadway production. A major difference is that there’s on-stage seating for an even more intimate look. A good example of why it’s usually best to skip the national tour if you live in Chicago.

Through March 17 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

If there’s ever been a time for Paula Vogel’s 1997 Pulitzer Prize winner ‘How I Learned to Drive’ it’s now. In the wake of the #metoo movement, a play about a young woman being taken advantage of by her older uncle seems extremely relevant. Under the direction of Raven Theatre artistic director Cody Estle, ‘How I Learned to Drive’ makes its second appearance in Chicago this year. Artistic Home revived it in the spring.

If you’re wondering which one was better, it’s Raven’s. The combination of strong direction and even stronger performances makes this a more solid production. This play hinges on the lead actress in the role of Li’l Bit. Eliza Stoughton turns in a powerhouse performance. She’s consistent throughout the 90-minute run time. The script moves in quick vignettes that span from her teenage years until the present. It’s not an easy feat to make the teenage version of the character as dynamic as the grown version. Stoughton strikes the perfect balance, picking up on the nuances of Vogel’s complex script. Though, it’s not just her that makes this cast so great. Kathryn Acosta is double cast as Li’l Bit’s mother and her aunt. She achieves the humor of the dialogue in a subtle way with all the appearance and poise of a brunette Betty Draper.

Cody Estle’s vision for this show is very definitive. Scene transitions are accented with captivating projections that place the audience right into the 1960s. Again, think ‘Mad Men’. There’s a branded quality to this show that feels exceedingly professional. The art of subtlety might be the real star. Estle has mined this play for all the psychological tells of abuse that Vogel nestles into the dialogue. The characters never go over the top, which can easily be done in such a juicy play. This feels like real life despite Vogel’s unique storytelling device of driving lessons as a means to propel the action.

‘How I Learned to Drive’ is by now a modern American classic. Perhaps too risqué for high school drama, but it now finds itself within the cannon beside ‘Rabbit Hole’ and ‘Dinner with Friends.’ An essential play for our modern times. Vogel has continued to be a voice for women in an art that is even still somewhat dominated by male playwrights. Raven Theatre does the script its justice in a time in which it would be nearly impossible to separate it from the #metoo and #timesup movements. Perhaps Vogel was eerily ahead of her time. If you’ve been meaning to see a faithful production of this play, Raven Theatre Company has you covered.

Through March 24 at Raven Theatre Company. 6157 N Clark St. 773-338-2177

Six spectacular actors bring deeply moving performances under director Cheryl Lynn Bruce in Dominique Morisseau’s Pipeline.

The capacity crowd who braved six-degree weather to show up at the Biograph Theatre on Lincoln Ave. were richly rewarded by this exceptional production. But you kind of have to go when a Morisseau premiere beckons. I for one am invested in her work now, having been wowed by two of her three Detroit cycle plays - Skeleton Crew at Skokie's Northlight Theatre last year and Paradise Blue at the tiny TimeLine Theatre on Wellington the year prior. (Just by coincidence, Morisseau's 2017 play, now having its Chicago premiere, was also broadcast nationally by PBS last night from another ongoing production - the one at Lincoln Center in New York.)

Pipeline is lauded for its topicality around the current issue of young black males too easily at risk of entering a pipeline to jail. And it also touches on the merits of inner-city public community schools versus private education.

But perhaps even more powerfully, it highlights the debilitating effects of our society's racism-based social dysfunction. In Pipeline this adverse miasma infiltrates the emotional lives of the middle class parents of a teenage boy, Omari (a kinetic performance by Matthew Elam). A slight, sensitive poetic youth who seems an unlikely candidate to become a thug, Omari gets into trouble after inexplicably assaulting his high school English teacher.

Pipeline also showcases Morisseau’s prowess for examining the inner lives of interesting personalities, the forces that energize them as people, all against the contemporary societal backdrop. In Pipeline there is a specificity to these characters – six fully-formed individuals, no tropes or archetypes.

You will be touched by these exceptional people, and by the compelling performances that bring them to life. When the play opens on a sparse stage, Omari's mother Nya (Tyla Abercrumbie – who is devastatingly good), a public high school teacher, is leaving a voice message for her ex, and Omari's dad, Xavier (Mark Spates Smith), detailing their son’s predicament: that he may be expelled from his private school and possibly be charged criminally with assault.  

Nya leaves a lengthy voice mail in which her language stumbles and runs aground – a sets a tone for the remainder of the 90-minute show. Repeating and rephrasing that 60-second message, Nya shows her inner self and internal conflicts. The scene cues the audience to listen to the language for the rest of the show, for it will communicate on multiple levels.

Pipeline is also literary, revisiting at several points Gwendolyn Brooks in a poetic remix of We Real Cool – the 24-word masterpiece the perfectly captures a cry of lost youth: 

We Real Cool

THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL. 
We real cool. We
Left school. We 
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We 
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon. 

Courtesy The Poetry Foundation

The event that triggered Omari’s rage was also literary: a classroom discussion in which his teacher over-aggressively called on him to discuss Richard Wright’s Native Son character, Bigger Thomas. “He was asking me in that room, in that way,” Omari tells his mother, his language suggesting that as an African-American, he is a rarity in his class. “I don’t want to be the token respondent.”

And in fact, as Omari later tells his father about the incident, he says he was feeling upset that his dad sent him financial support like clockwork, but never delivered his love. “Guys say they want their dad, but it’s overrated,” Omari says. The child support he gets from him “does the biology, but it doesn’t do the soul.”

This is a play for actors, because Morisseau gives each of the characters a show-stopping soliloquy, or ranting digression. You’ll want to stand up and cheer for Security Guard Dun (Ronald L. Conner) in “I Do My Job,” weep after Omari’s double-barreled unloading to his dad Xavier. Or laugh and applaud, for Aurora Real De Asua’s Jasmine – Omari’s girlfriend; and Janet Ulrichs Brooks as the teacher, Laurie - both of whom provide measured lightheartedness to the show. 

This production of Pipeline runs through March 1 at the Victory Gardens Theatre in Chicago. It’s highly recommended that you don’t miss it.

My gateway to Nina Simone fandom came when I was a kid, watching some crummy 90's action movie that was somehow soundtracked by Ms. Simone’s music. Her take on George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” was both recognizable to young me as a Beatles tune, but it was also strange, alien, powerful, wistful, something completely different than anything I’d heard before. Not the song. But the singer. It was a gateway, for sure.

From there, I ended up with a CD reissue of her late-60s Sings the Blues album, an even better introduction for a clueless young white boy to this complicated genius — one with toe-tappers, showtunes, pop tunes, and yes, the blues. Perhaps the most powerful tune on there, perhaps one even too powerful for me at the time, was Langston Hughes’ “Backlash Blues,” which laments that “the world is big and bright and round and it’s full of folks like me who are black, yellow, beige, and brown.”

In the years since, I’ve grown, as my love and understanding of Nina Simone — the musician, the public figure, the strong woman, and the complex human being — has grown. And now maybe I’m old enough or wise enough or just ready to appreciate the picture of this woman and “folks like” her that Christina Ham’s Nina Simone: Four Women paints for us, as currently performed at Skokie’s Northlight Theatre, directed by Kenneth L. Roberson.

The play itself is named for one of Ms. Simone’s most powerful compositions, one about women “who are black, yellow, beige, and brown.” But it is also framed around what is perhaps an imagined 1960's fever dream of Ms. Simone’s, in the wake of the horrific 1963 bombing of Birmingham’s historic 16th Street Baptist Church in which four beautiful little African-American girls were murdered.

In the play, Ms. Simone is joined in the church’s wreckage by three other African-American women, each of them representing someone Nina sang about in “Four Women.” Above, I wondered if the play’s setting and the four women’s existence are perhaps imagined, based not only on Ms. Simone’s actual history, but her history of mental illness, as well.

The truth is, perhaps, somewhere in between, and that makes the play work. There are hints at Ms. Simone’s mental health throughout the play — voices and sounds she hears — but they don’t completely define her. And there are, for me at least, distracting bits of expository history — biographical details that might be fleshed out if this were a more standard “jukebox musical” — but I didn’t let them get in the way of the four women onstage. And those four women are what make the play work.

First, Sydney Charles is Nina Simone. And is she ever. I heard the rare complaint after the show that her character didn’t feel quite human. But that affect — that coldness, that stateliness, that hurt — seemed to me so in character. Ms. Charles voice, while very good, doesn’t quite match the richness and depth of Ms. Simone’s, but I’m not sure anyone’s does. But as the play went on, Charles’ voice grows stronger, as does her performance, until she is raging, proud, and loud at the world.

The strongest performance comes from the woman who shares the stage the longest with Ms. Charles — Deanna Reed-Foster’s Sarah. What could have veered into the territory of stereotype is fleshed out and deep thanks to the work of Ms. Reed-Foster, a Chicago actress whose work I realized I’ve seen on the TV show, Chicago Fire. If Nina Simone was perhaps superhuman in some ways and unable to convey the tenderness of humanity in others, “Auntie Sarah” gives the show its human and humane center, moving from fear to anger, from joy to sorrow, filling the theater with her beautiful voice and grounding the stage and the story on it.

The other two actresses in the show, Ariel Richardson and Melanie Brezill, also shine. Ms. Richardson brings us the 1960's modern woman, polished and self-assured, while Brezill (who was a highlight last year on the stage of the Chicago Children’s Theatre) shimmies, struts, and slurs as a more worldly woman, doing so in the performance I saw on a broken stiletto heel! The piano accompaniment and musical direction is provided by Daniel Riley, himself a part of the show for much of the evening.

So, while this play is not a standard jukebox musical about, nor a factual portrait of, one of our most gifted and enigmatic musical geniuses, I think it works because it is neither. Nina Simone couldn’t and cannot be separated from her music or her times or who she was or who people think she is. And, soundtracked by wonderful live performances of many of Ms. Simone’s most powerful songs, Nina Simone: Four Women doesn’t try to do any of those things. It lets Nina’s words and Nina’s music tell a story, even if her own story cannot be told.

Elektra must have been a Scorpio. Strauss’ intense one-act opera ‘Elektra’ is a classic tale of revenge set to some of the most thrilling music ever composed. Originally directed by Sir David McVicar at the Lyric in 2012, Remy Bummpo artistic director Nick Sandys helms the revival this season.

Clocking in at a mere one hour and forty minutes, this brief but highly concentrated opera is as exciting as it is macabre. Violence in opera is more often conveyed through music than staging, but in this production brutality flows through the set and costumes. At once the one-set stage is overpoweringly effective in creating a dark, atmospheric experience. John Macfarlane presents a strikingly unique aesthetic that heightens Strauss’ sense of horror.

Richard Strauss collaborated on ‘Elektra’ with librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal. It held its world premiere in 1909 and has continued to be crowd pleaser ever since. Strauss helped bring the psychological elements dominating literature to the opera stage. In that regard, ‘Elektra’ is a very modern opera. His composition style also suggests the foundations of modern film scores. The music of ‘Elektra’ quickly moves from soaring to dark in the space of a breath.

This is an opera that requires a strong voice and a talented actress. Luckily, this production has two. Nina Stemme makes her Lyric debut in the title role. Eliza Van Den Heever returns to the Lyric to play Chrysothemis, Elektra’s sympathetic sister. While Elektra is the lead and Stemme does an amazing job, Heever makes Chrysothemis just as integral. Together with Michaela Marten as the wicked Klytamnestra, they create a trifecta of female power. With the exception of Orest (Iain Paterson) there aren’t many male voices in this opera. That’s entirely okay as these three women dominate the stage in a most satisfying way.

‘Elektra’ is an essential opera in the same vein as ‘Faust’. For those with only a tepid interest in opera, this 100-minute production is entirely accessible. There’s a cinematic quality to the music and the staging that leaves nary an empty moment. If that isn’t enough, just wait until the stage literally gushes blood.

Through February 22 at Lyric Opera of Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

The dynamic clashes of three couples living parallel lives fuels Christina Anderson’s delightful new play, How to Catch Creation. With dialog that is fresh, arresting, and completely natural, Anderson captures and holds our attention throughout the 90-minute show.  We quickly become invested in the characters, want to know how things will turn out for them.

Particularly strong were the portrayals of Griffin (Keith Randolph Smith is spectacular), and his bosom buddy and best female friend Tami (Karen Aldridge in an electric performance).

Griffin is a middle-aged man recently released from prison after being wrongfully convicted, trying to reclaim his life – with a settlement to get him started. Tami is an academic administrator in the fine arts department, whose life as an artist is now in abeyance – and likewise for her love life, which trends toward women.

Tami and Griffin have that most special intimacy, one that allows for unsparing honesty, and in the best of all possible worlds could be the basis for a rock-solid marriage. But nothing suggests they are headed in that direction. But your antenna will rise as the dialog between these two, sparklingly well written, suggests a special energy – and the chemistry between these two accomplished actors is unrelentingly magnetic.

In the course of the action, Tami pairs up with Riley (Maya Vinice Prentiss) a computer technician and electronic musician. Complicating things is the fact that Riley is involved with Stokes (Bernard Gilbert). Without spoiling the plot and reveals, we discover a thread of connections through two generations, and through coincidences and fate, paths cross and the complicated fabric of the drama is woven.

The presentation of the play is fast-paced and technically wonderful – Anderson’s script sets great production challenges, as it mimics the fast-paced, quick-cut style of a film – with vignettes, short scenes, and jumps back in time. To accomplish this, director Nigel Smith seamlessly integrated scenery and staging (Todd Rosenthal) lighting (Allen Lee Hughes) and sound (Joanna Lynne Staub, with composition by Justin Ellington).

In How to Catch Creation, Anderson reminds us that the more things change, the more they stay the same. The title tips us off to the parallels within these couples, and the pursuit each holds in common of creation – in painting, writing, procreating – and the quest for love. As if to underscore it all, Anderson gives us several pairs of scenes that run concurrently, with identical dialog spoken sometimes simultaneously, sometimes sequentially, by couples in different times and of different ages. The effect is marvelous.   

One couple is shown living in the 1960s and 1970s, Ayanna Bria Bakari (Natalie), Jasmine Bracey (G.K. Marche) and Anderson is very specific about the timing of scenes: one takes place a few days after the specific reference to the September 15, 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama; the scene references the killing of four little girls in the church. Another takes place years later, with a very specific presentation of an ad at a bus stop for an Apple computer (a perfect replication of the real thing), setting it in the late 1970s, when Apple first began advertising.

The other two couples inhabit 2014, but also with a specificity. “It’s 2014,” says Riley. “If you have the money, you can have can have a kid.” Perhaps by rooting the action in concrete details, Anderson wants to make it more credible. But she has accomplished that already, with the dialog in this wonderfully written work. Highly recommended. How to Catch Creation runs through February 24 at Goodman Theatre.  

Droll, knowing, and surprisingly good, Evil Dead: The Musical, transforms the campy self-aware horror-comedy movie franchise into something wickedly fun.

Even those who haven’t seen the Evil Dead movie series in awhile – or ever – will enjoy this show. It's laced with irony, just like the original, and doubling as a send-up of the scary films genre. It's producers Black Button Eyes Productions specializes in obscure works and plays with elements of fantasy, such as 2014’s Coraline and Nightmares and Nightcaps: The Stories of John Collier – a British author along the lines of Ray Bradbury or Neil Gaiman. Evil Dead has bee crisscrossing small theater groups around the country. 

Evil Dead – The Musical parodies Sam Raimi’s classic Evil Dead films – it's an amalgam of Evil Dead I & II – with a nod to Army of Darkness, third in the series. All three starred the square-jawed Bruce Campbell. It’s a prototypical story of teens who vacation at a deserted cabin the woods - only to be dismembered and possessed by evil forces that lie in wait.

In the films and this staged musical, one by one the teens succumb to Kanderean Demons, called from the cellar due to an inadvertent recitation of passages from ancient books written in blood and bound in human flesh, of course. Resisting these forces of evil as the story progresses is Ash (Jordan Dell Harris perfectly captures the swaggering heartthrob played in the films by Bruce Campbell.)

And like the films, Ash transforms into that iconic character we know and love, along the way replacing his left hand with a prosthetic chainsaw, wielding a double-barreled shotgun in his other, battling those Kandereans who inhabit the trees in the woods, the cellar, and even the bodies of his former friends.

All that, and singing and dancing, too – with some infectious tunes by a quartet of writers (Christopher Bond, Frank Cipolla, Melissa Morris and George Reinblatt are credited – and Oliver Townsend gets the credit as musical director.) The book by Reinblatt is funny – he is clearly an Evil Dead Head - though lyrics falter at times. Among the bigger standouts are the opening number as the group of five teens take off on their weekend getaway – and a number with some dancing trees. (Choreography is by Derek Van Barham.) Also charming is a duet by Ash and his girlfriend Linda (Kirby Gibson) about falling in love at S-Mart. 

The cabin itself also becomes possessed before the end, and an animatronic moosehead, squirrel and other figures, join the fun. Set, props and puppetry are by Jeremiah Barr.

Aficionados will recall that the original films Evil Dead and Evil Dead 2 didn’t have much in the way of continuity. Evil Dead 2 was a reboot, the first half retelling and modifying the story of the original and the second half breaking new ground. But the movies were grounded in a sense of horror/humor that has not been lost in translation, and distilled into this amalgam the musical version gives us the true heart of the films. (My resident Evil Dead expert Kyran Esler provided exegisis on the show's film origins.)

Along with Jordan Dell Harris as Ash, the cast is strikingly good: Josh Kemper as the ever randy Scott; Kirby Gibson as Ash’s girlfriend Linda (eventually beheaded), Stevie Love in dual roles as Shelly and Annie. For an over-the-top performance Caitlin Jackson gets a shout-out – she is wonderful and it is a performance not to be missed. Recommended. Evil Dead: The Musical runs through February 16 at Pride Arts Center.