Items filtered by date: November 2007

If all the world’s a stage and we are all merely players, then we must be prepared when we are thrust into the spotlight. Not everyone will be ready. Some of us might freeze or forget our lines or simply wave the spotlight on, forgoing the opportunity to perform, content with playing in the shadows or the wings. Others, however, crave the attention and demand to be center stage, presumably because they have something to say. Whether or not you signed up to be in the play or part of the production, it’s essential to be prepared, to know what you would say or do when given a stage. This past weekend, I witnessed just such an opportunity during a performance of Off-Nights at the Sometimes Café. The stage was set, the players cast, and an attentive audience seated. The trouble was, when the spotlight was on, nothing was said.

Off-Nights at the Sometimes Café is billed as a campy parody of a noir mystery, following a cafe pianist in lieu of a detective. As the pianist/narrator plays his way through the show, he guides the audience through the tangled web of attraction, seduction, and general silliness that occurs when a bunch of attractive queer people end up in the same place.

On its surface, Dave Walther’s Off-Nights at the Sometimes Café aims to be a delightful, poignantly unserious celebration of queer joy and desire, and a heartwarming portrayal of how to find a chosen family— warts and all. But that message, along with the representation it aims to spotlight, is completely lost in a story lacking in formula, pace, or purpose. There is no particular plot with a beginning, middle, and an end. There’s no catalytic event or climax. It’s more of a drawn-out setting of a café scene, focusing on the introduction of six characters that takes over one hour of the play’s seventy-five-minute run time to fully explain. There is no protagonist – or spoken scenes for that matter -- save for the curmudgeonly monotonous narrator who tells the story in the same sad minor keys the musical numbers are played in. The only time the characters speak is through song. While the players have exceptional voices, the choice of opera as a medium is an interesting one. The operatic numbers all focus on love (both absent and unrequited), but they don’t particularly move the story forward or really accentuate or explain the characters’ motivations or sentiments. Save for a few witty one-liners and repetitive drag numbers, there isn’t much depth or substance to this story, so it begs the question: Why was this put on?

Off-Nights at the Sometimes Café is simply doing too much for a message of love, acceptance, and community to shine through. At least that is what I took away from the production. It’s neither an homage to film noir nor a parody. It’s lacking in elements such as a femme fatale, lover’s quarrels, a whodunnit with high-contrast lighting, nonsensical voice narration, hyperbolic metaphors, or, said succinctly, a storyline, something nearly every film noir/parody possesses. The same goes for the opera homage and lack thereof. Key operatic elements are also lacking, such as libretto (text/story), aria (emotional solo), a recitative (speech-like narrative singing), and most importantly, the theatre and spectacle that opera is known for. None of that is found in this play. To be fair, perhaps that was the whole point, and it simply missed me as quickly as the 70-degree day in Chicago. If you squinted, you could see where Off-Nights was trying to go. The problem was in the execution and pace of the story. It was simply doing too much and not enough at the same time. Director Clare DiVizio’s introduction to the play provided more grounding and heart than the entirety of the run of the show, the reminder to all that queer and trans rights matter, now more than ever in today’s volatile and violent world. Off-Nights lingers so heavily in the descriptions of characters and their identification that we miss the ‘why?’ Why are we here? Why should we care about these characters? What do you want the audience to take away from this production, outside of a love story that references the last great love was when dinosaurs were drinking beers? Off-Nights, unfortunately, misses their mark.

When given a spotlight, one must be ready and prepared to step into it with something to say. No matter the medium chosen to convey one’s story, the story still needs to be easy to follow. It should have heart and depth even if it’s told through parody and satire. If the message you wish to impart to your audience is lost in translation, or simply doesn’t exist, was it ready for its moment on the stage? Did the story linger in the shadows too long, or was it simply not ready for the spotlight? With some rewriting, staging choices, and script alignment to any of the formulas the play aims at parodying, Off-Nights at the Sometimes Café could become the queer extravaganza it bills itself as. Until then, the audience is waiting for something great to take the stage and have its moment in the spotlight.

Check out the other 2026 season of events and shows at Bramble Arts Loft and learn more about The Thompson Street Opera Co. and their mission to bring inclusivity to the operatic art form.

Trapdoor Theatre’s “The Cuttlefish” ought to be confounding, but somehow this 1920’s surrealist play from Poland is clear as a bell. Though ostensibly about the philosophical struggle between art and politics, the audience easily recognized echoes of the present-day overall fix in which society finds itself.

Before any dialog, even before house lights go down, “The Cuttlefish, or the Hyrcanian Worldview” (its full title) opens somewhat bewilderingly on a stage with four characters: a masked, gold-clad Statue of Alice D’Or (Keith Surney), whose postures beside a short classic stone column suggest a Greek sculpture. Further backstage is a high ranking church cleric in mitre and liturgical robes, gesturing spiritually—Pope Julius II (Emily Lotspeich), patron of Raphael and Michelangelo. Stage left, a figure in a suit slouches and periodically collapses against a wall, the artist Pavel Rockhoffer (Nicole Wiesner). And a woman wanders, hands outspread—the Mother (Venice Averyheart) of Rockhoffer, who settles into a seat and manages percussion.

What is going on? The audience puzzles through these characters, trying to make sense of the silent tableau, and the lights go down and dialog begins. Rockhoffer has become pessimistic about his creative works, which we learn have been condemned by a government council. “My art is a lie, a carefully planned hoax,” says Rockhoffer.

“Even prisoners serving a life sentence still want to live,” the Statue offers. Along the way Julius remarks, “A man without a worthy adversary is like God without Satan,” and leaving, offers “I wish you a short and unexpected death.” With very little naturalism or conventional exposition, these snippets reveal the conflict that is to be resolved by the end of “The Cuttlefish.”

But it is with the arrival of King Hyrcan IV (David Lovejoy) when the story comes alive. A villainous despot, he smooth-talks Rockhoffer, coaxing him to abandon his dedication to absolute artistic ideals, and come on over to pragmatic freedom of Hyrcania, the land he rules.

Lovejoy is an energetic force on stage, and brings the play to life. “I am a superman, or ‘an uber mensch’” King Hyrcan declares, convincingly. He offers to unchain the artist from historic patronage of entities like Julius, and to have full freedom.
“What do you believe in?” queries Rockhoffer.

“In myself,” King Hyrcan shoots back, and as inexorably as the manosphere today sucks in its lost, wandering adherents, Rockhoffer, after a bit of resistance, falls under his spell. He obeys when Hyrcan tells him to jettison his fiance Ella (Gus Thomas), as unfitting for the new Hyrcanian order. King Hyrcan works his wiles on a weakened Julius, who admits to doubt and crumbles too.

As the action unfolds and the plot thickens, it becomes clearer that the times prophesied by “The Cuttlefish,” which unfolded in the rise of fascist Germany, offer parallels to today —when cultural centers are being expropriated and renamed, arts funding cancelled, and freedom of expression curtailed.

The magic of Trap Door is its penchant for mining an obscure work of 1920s playwright Stanislaw Witkiewicz (translated by Daniel Gerould) to find a work that is regarded as a precursor to later absurdist and expressionist stage works in the 1930s. Under the direction of Nicole Wiesner, what might have been an inscrutable drama instead is intuitively understandable. As we laugh with relief at the line, “One can only hope” (the Mother’s interjection about the end of such terrible times), we may be reminded of Kurt Vonnegut’s advice: “The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.”

“The Cuttlefish, or the Hyrcanian Worldview” runs through April 25 at Chicago’s Trap Door Theatre and comes recommended.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is a love story that outlives the body, outlasts the grave, and keeps burning long after death has done its part.

Frida Kahlo famously said, ‘I’ve had two accidents that changed my life: one when I was hit by a trolley, and the other when I fell in love with Diego Rivera.”

And thus opens the first act of this beautiful dedication to the brilliant fiery artist, so far ahead of her time, the astonishing and disabled Frida Kahlo.

Composed by Gabriela Lena Frank with a libretto by Nilo Cruz, El último sueño de Frida y Diego arrives like a heat‑haze hallucination - lush, uncanny, and thrumming with a love that refuses to stay in the ground. It’s 1957, Día de los Muertos, and the opera drops us into a marigold‑drenched cemetery where the living coax their dead back for one brief visit. Diego Rivera, worn thin by grief and a stalled brush, isn’t there for tradition; he’s there to beg the universe for one more moment with Frida. His plea slices through the veil, catching the ear of an unassuming flower seller who promptly sheds her disguise to reveal Catrina, the regal, razor‑sharp Keeper of the Dead - and the only force powerful enough to answer him.

Deep in the shadowed sweep of Mictlán, Frida pushes back against the summons with the same fierce spark that once lit every brushstroke. Death has finally granted her the relief life never did - no shattered spine, no emotional whiplash, no Diego-shaped storm at her heels - and she has zero interest in reopening the wounds she fought so hard to leave behind.

“So much pain!” she cries again and again, swearing at the start of the production that she will never return to the world of the living - or to her love, Rivera - because of it.

But the underworld is anything but still - teeming with spirits who are playful, meddling, and aching for their own brief return. Among them is Leonardo, a young actor whose flair for drama and easy artistic kinship start to chip away at Frida’s resolve. As Catrina assembles the souls cleared for their 24‑hour crossing, Frida reluctantly lets herself be wrapped once more in the hues, textures, and contradictions of her earthly self. Bound by strict rules - no touching the living, no overstaying the day - she steps toward the world she swore off, setting the stage for a reunion as volatile as it is inevitable.

But she is urged by those on both sides of the afterlife to visit with Diego because spirits on both sides of the veil are ALSO missing her presence, her vibrant, dynamic and powerful personality and essence in a dark landscape of blacks and greys. Rivera and her family and friends on both sides of the veil would give anything to have her back with them to color and ignite their universe - even if only for a day.

And although Frida really does want to see Diego again, she is stopped by the memory of the torment she suffered emotionally in his arms and even more so the pain she suffered in her body from the horrific trolley accident that crippled her.

Ana Maria Martinez as Catrina, Alfredo Daza as Diego and Daniela Mack as Frida. 

Many times in the show, Frida sings about her extreme unrelenting physical pain. Kahlo’s paintings - often filled with blood, surgical imagery, and unfiltered grief - also gave voice to the extreme physical agony she endured throughout her chronically ill life. Frida endured surgery after surgery, yet none brought the relief she so desperately needed.

In the end, she chooses to return for her art - to see the colors again, the radiant “colors” she sings of in her paintings and in her lovingly adorned home. Kahlo also descends back into her pain‑ridden earthly body to answer Rivera’s desperate daily pleas - his prayers to her and to God to return and save him from a life emptied of inspiration, a life made unbearably lonely without her.

Kahlo and Diego had a tumultuous relationship marked by marital affairs on both sides, though Diego’s affair with Frida’s own sister caused their divorce. But their love was eternal and they remarried, and we’re together until Frida’s death 10 years later.

This production makes clear that although Diego Rivera was the more famous artist in their lifetime - the towering figure whose reputation often eclipsed Frida Kahlo’s - he relied on her completely, both for artistic inspiration and for the very shape of his life. Rivera even said that his greatest wish was to have his ashes buried with hers.

Finally, a production that honors a female artist not only for her public achievements but for her full humanity - one that is unabashedly in love with Frida herself, not just her legacy.

One of the production’s loveliest moments is a tableau where Kahlo’s most famous paintings step off the canvas and onto the stage. I only found myself wishing for projections - of the actors in their vivid recreations or of the paintings themselves - because the costumes and scenic artistry were so intricate and stunning that not everyone in the house could fully take them in. By then, the audience was aching to see her art come alive.

The company of El último sueño de Frida y Diego.

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is currently running at Lyric Opera House, performed entirely in Spanish with the full vocal score intact. English captions are projected overhead throughout, making the story and its emotional undercurrents easy to follow even if you don’t speak the language.

Directed by Lorena Maza with Roberto Kalb conducting, Lyric’s production fields a powerhouse ensemble, led by mezzo‑soprano Daniela Mack, who returns to the house with a Frida that’s all fire, fragility, and fiercely guarded autonomy. Opposite her, baritone Alfredo Daza makes a striking Lyric debut as Diego - his voice carrying the weight of a man haunted by the art he can’t finish and the woman he can’t release. Countertenor Key’mon W. Murrah, in a radiant Lyric debut, infuses Leonardo with a buoyant theatrical spark that lifts the energy of every scene entered. Meanwhile, Ana María Martínez turns Catrina into a study in imperious grace - her soprano gliding through the score with the kind of effortless authority that makes the boundary between worlds feel like something she can open and close at will.

Musically, the evening’s standout moments come through sweeping duets and emotionally charged arias - Frida’s defiant refusals, Diego’s grief‑soaked pleas, and shimmering ensemble passages that blur the line between the living and the dead. Gabriela Lena Frank’s score leans into lush orchestral colors, letting voices ride waves of percussion, strings, and folkloric textures that feel both ancient and startlingly alive, while the live orchestra - under Roberto Kalb’s precise, fiery baton - does far more than accompany, animating the realm around the singers and giving Mictlán its pulse, the cemetery its glow, and the lovers’ reunion its aching gravity.

Visually, El último sueño de Frida y Diego is a sensory feast - an opera that doesn’t just tell a story but paints one stroke by stroke right in front of you. The stage erupts in the saturated hues of Mexican folklore: cascades of marigolds, candlelit altars, and sweeping bands of cobalt and crimson that echo Rivera’s murals and the raw intimacy of Frida’s self‑portraits. The opening cemetery glows like a living ofrenda, its petals and lanterns shimmering in a soft, uncanny haze that makes the border between worlds feel thin, permeable, almost eager to be crossed.

Once the action plunges into Mictlán, the production morphs into a surreal, shadow‑rich dreamscape - floating fabrics drifting like lost souls or the hem of a woman’s skirt lifted by the wind, skeletal silhouettes stalking the edges of the frame, and sculptural lighting carving the darkness into something at once playful and faintly menacing. Spirits flash in and out like animated brushstrokes, their movement and costuming turning the underworld into a kinetic mural of the afterlife. And when Frida finally steps back into her earthly colors, the entire stage snaps into focus as a living canvas - bold, mythic, and charged with the emotional current of two artists whose love refuses to stay still.

El último sueño de Frida y Diego is being performed at Lyric Opera House through April 4^th. For tickets and/or more show information, click here.

Highly Recommended. 

Upcoming Performances:

March

• Mar 21 • 7:30 p.m.
• Mar 24 • 7:00 p.m.
• Mar 26 • 7:00 p.m.
• Mar 29 • 2:00 p.m.

April

• Apr 1 • 2:00 p.m.
• Apr 4 • 2:00 p.m.

Running Time: Approx. 2h 15m (one intermission)

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

The Oscars might be over, but this “Best Actress” is just getting started. Welcome to the weird world of the Grelley Duvall Show, or Alex Grelle. His unique approach to cabaret has amassed quite a fanbase over the years. Suffice it to say, there’s nothing else quite like it. In two acts, Grelle and his team blend his favorite female performances with highly choreographed musical numbers set to toe-tappin’ hits performed by a live band. 

Directed by Kasey Foster, “Best Actress” tells the origin story of the Grelley Duvall Show and what inspired a young Alex Grelle and his creative partner Jesse Morgan Young. Their obsessive knowledge of pop culture as seen through the lens of queer millennials is unmatched. They throw anything from a given day on cable TV in the 1990s into the blender and it’s up to the audience to keep up. The irreverent humor, costumes, and slickly produced video segments add up to an evening of hilarious deep cuts and surprise cameos.

To be honest, not all experimental cabaret style theatre is good. Rest assured Best Actress is not that. Rather it’s a 2-hour musical extravaganza with solid gold choreography by Erin Kilmurray and Kasey Alfonso and a kick-ass band led by (and featuring the vocals of) Aunt Kelly. Alex Grelle is a certified triple threat: he can sing, he can dance and he can kick. The team he’s assembled for this production has made something really special for anyone really, but especially for the pop culture obsessed, vintage shopping community.

Joining Grelle onstage is a powerhouse ensemble - Kara Brody, Madigan Burke, Lolly Extract, Darling Shear, Patrick Stengle, and Mary Williamson - plus a handful of puppets that feel like characters in their own right. And make no mistake: Grelle isn’t the only one throwing kicks. This cast matches his energy beat for beat, putting on quite a show. Again, Killmurray and Alfonso’s choreography is killer.

Grelley Duvall Best Actress is one of those shows it’s almost best to not know much about going in. It’s also one of those shows that should just run open-ended for a while, because once you see it, you’ll be trying to explain to people for weeks what exactly it was. 

Through April 12 at the Chopin Theatre. 1543 W Division St. 773-278-1500

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

“I just want to be entertained. Isn’t that the point?” asks the narrator of The Drowsy Chaperone. And if that indeed is the point, Theo Ubique’s rendition hit the bullseye.

This fun production follows a neurotic musical theatre fan (played by Steve McDonagh) who puts on his favorite record and talks about its fictional history. Thanks to Theo’s inventive seating – a front row made of sofas – the audience feels as if they’re actually in his living too, getting an intimate evening full of laughs as he and the rest of the cast break the fourth wall – even entering and exiting through closet.

The show-within-a-show follows a famous star, her fiancé, and the kooky cast of characters who try to help or hurt the impending nuptials for their own reasons. The result is a musical which never takes itself seriously, as it pokes fun at Broadway shows and troupes.

Everyone turns in a polished performance with each artist getting their moment to shine, whether it’s in a tap-dancing number (expertly accomplished by Trey Pluntnicki and Kevin Chlapecka), a silly vaudeville routine (Jenny Rudnick does enough spit takes to lose count), or a ballad about bunnies – yes, bunnies (sung by Kelsey MacDonald with all the heart and sincerity it needed).

As the “Man in the Chair,” McDonagh anchors the show in reality, but each performer holds the reigns of these larger-than-life characters with precision. Darian Goulding, embodies the Latin lover, Aldolpho, with inspired hilarity from his subtle gestures to that elevated accent. Jimmy Hogan and Chase Wheaton-Werle also stood out as gangsters posing as pastry chefs. Their playful banter and cohesion as a team elevated their numbers and helped sell the silly side plot. Colette Todd, who played the titular character, the Drowsy Chaperone herself, delivered a powerhouse tune with the perfect balance of comedy and chops.

From start to finish, it was clear that the actors were having fun, and their joy was certainly contagious. Directing this production is L. Walter Stearns, and his love of this show was clear in the care in which he handled the material, perhaps because directing The Drowsy Chaperone was a dream come true. In 2004, Stearns had the opportunity to attend an early reading of musical with Sutton Foster, who went on to star in the Broadway cast.

Written by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison (music and lyrics) with a book by Bob Martin and Don McKellar, The Drowsy Chaperone is not a deep musical, and it isn’t meant to be. Instead, it’s a reminder that comedy brings connection, and sometimes it’s okay to just want to be entertained.

The Drowsy Chaperone runs through April 19 at Theo Ubique Cabaret Theatre. For tickets and/or more information, click here.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Comedy Dance Chicago is bringing their family-friendly show to The Second City! (Fun fact: this group was born out of a Second City Training Center class back in 2014). The show is a high-energy laugh-riot for ages 5 to 95. Comedy Dance Chicago's joyful mashup of sketch comedy, physical humor, music, and dance is sure to have you (and your kids and their grandparents) smiling, laughing, and bopping in your seats! These dancin' fools bring relatable situations to life... anything from the importance of hugs to a good old-fashioned staring contest. And who knows, you might even find yourself on stage! Don't miss this joy-filled experience, perfect for anyone in need of a laughter boost.

People often ask "What is Comedy Dance?" Here's what audiences say:

     "It's one of the funniest, most enjoyable hours you'll spend on a Friday night."
-Chicago Reader

     "My face hurts from smiling!" & "That was so joyful!"

     ""We had SO much fun and Olivia giggled her little head off the whole time."
            -Blair (parent)

Comedy Dance Chicago presents HAPPY DANCE, Saturdays March 21, April 4, April 18, May 2, May 16, May 30 at 2:00pm at The Second City in the e.t.c Theater (230 W. North Ave., Piper's Alley, Chicago, IL). Show runs 60 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $35 for adults and $29 for kids.

Notable credits include: "8-BITS" and "Oh, the Mundanity!" at The iO Theater; Toronto Sketch Comedy Festival, Charlotte's Queen City Comedy Experience; San Francisco Sketchfest; Laugh Out Loud Schaumburg; I AM Fest at House of Blues; Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival; Chicago Women's Funny Fest, Stevenson High School Odyssey Festival; among others. 

About Comedy Dance Chicago

Comedy Dance Chicago. A different kind of comedy show. A different kind of dance show. Unique entertainment for Chicago and beyond. But... what is comedy dance?! In Layman's terms: they dance, you laugh. Still confused? You'll just have to see it.

Comedy Dance Chicago has been delighting and entertaining audiences for over 10 years.  They are a turnkey option for performing arts venues, K-12 schools, colleges and universities, and corporate events looking to add joy to their next event. Company members bring a range of comedy and dance styles to the show and have trained with the Second City Training Center, iO Chicago, American Theatre Conservatory, Accademia dell'Arte, among others. Having performed at the Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival (Stage 773), iO Chicago, Dance Chicago (The Athenaeum Theatre), Woodstock Opera House, the Association of Applied and Therapeutic Humor Conference, and (that one time) at the House of Blues, Comedy Dance Chicago is thrilled to share laughs and spread the love of comedy dance to the rest of the US. 

The Joffrey Ballet has completed a major refresh of its Chicago-based home, The Joffrey Tower (10 E. Randolph Street), featuring interiors by Rubiostudio, and vivid environmental graphics by acclaimed artist & designer Bob Faust, renowned for crafting work with typography at its core, and showcasing visually-stunning examples of Concrete Poetry, courtesy of the national Poetry Foundation, also based in Chicago.  Together, this interdisciplinary collaboration of art, design, architecture, dance, and poetry aims to re-imagine Joffrey Tower as both a home for ballet and a living work of art; creating an environment as inspiring and dynamic as the Company itself.

Under the direction of Joffrey President and CEO Greg Cameron, Joffrey leadership began re-thinking the environment of The Joffrey Tower post-COVID, aiming to create an integrated campus within the Tower’s four floors to strengthen engagement between the Company Artists, its Grainger Academy of The Joffrey Ballet students, Community Engagement students, and administrative personnel. Key elements of the resulting $2.5 million restoration, funded by generous Joffrey supporters, include the creation of an industry-leading Health and Wellness center and the installation of new Harlequin Wood Sprung Floors. The project also expanded the Tower’s Anne L. Kaplan Costume Shop, the Grainger Academy lobby, and administrative facilities, adding meeting rooms and workspaces.

“To support their work on stage, it is of the utmost importance that our Company Artists and students are taken care of off stage, so we sought for Joffrey Tower’s surroundings to be mindful of both the artists’ physical and mental wellbeing.  A great deal of attention was paid to providing leading-edge fitness equipment and spa facilities in our expansive new Health and Wellness Center, along with offering a variety of comfortable and vibrant spaces for our artists to both individually renew and to congregate for camaraderie,” offered Cameron.

To carry out this first renovation since the Tower opened in 2008, the Company enlisted architect (and Joffrey Board Director) Elva Rubio and Corporate Concepts Inc. to facilitate the interior architecture. Rubio, founder of Chicago-based Rubiostudio, has over 30 years of experience in various practice fields, including urban design, interior design, design education, communications design strategy, and the built environment. 

“My firm clearly understood the assignment put forth by the Joffrey Board: to design a practical and functional floor plan that brings the administrative and artistic functions together, enabling a great exchange of energy and ideas. Given my 20 years as a supporter of the Joffrey, it has been an honor to help deliver a space that serves all the Company’s needs, and I’d like to think our design has created a ‘wonderful chaos’ of interactivity,” said Rubio.

Upon completion of the structural foundation, and with over 6,000 sq. ft. of wall space as his canvas, Faust then dramatically embellished walls throughout Joffrey Tower with his signature “Wallworks,” larger-than-life kaleidoscopically re-mixed photographs. Seeking to interpret themes of movement, the origin photos – now remixed in sizes up to 50 x 400 feet – ranged in subject from Joffrey rehearsal and performance shots to behind-the-scenes costumes and scenic props.

“Working closely with Elva and her team, the ‘Wallworks’ installation for the Joffrey is unique in that she made the decision early on to design the space, knowing there would be art activations throughout. Many of the usual design details were omitted in exchange for clean white space. I sourced imagery, not usually celebrated but no less critical to performance making, for its details, colors, and textures to create ever-evolving and ‘moving’ patterns across these key walls. Visitors will encounter fragments of costumes, props, backstage mechanicals, and even former advertising remixed into contemporary patterns to bring a definable visual identity to Joffrey Tower,” added Faust.

And, in furthering the Joffrey’s commitment to Chicago artists and culture, Faust’s colorful wall installations are accompanied by inspirational lines of poetry, designed as site-specific Concrete Poems, works that are as much a piece of visual art as they are poems.  Curated as part of a new collaboration between the Joffrey and the Chicago-based Poetry Foundation, incorporated into the environment are excerpts of work by six local poets: Alfonso Carrara, Tarfia Faizullah, Angela Jackson, José Olivarez, Anne Stevenson, and the former (and inaugural) Poet Laureate of Chicago avery r. young.  

The Joffrey Ballet concludes its 2025-2026 70^th Anniversary Season with the highly anticipated Chicago Premiere of Yuri Possokhov’s Eugene Onegin, a richly layered and deeply human exploration of love, loss, and redemption inspired by Alexander Pushkin’s poetic novel. From the acclaimed creative team behind Anna Karenina, Eugene Onegin—a co-production with San Francisco Ballet—features an original score by the award-winning composer, performer, and conductor Ilya Demutsky and an immersive set design that plunges audiences into the fragility of the human heart. Eugene Onegin is presented for ten performances only at the historic Lyric Opera House, 20 North Upper Wacker Drive in downtown Chicago, from June 4 to 14, 2026.

ABOUT THE JOFFREY BALLET
The Joffrey Ballet is one of the premier dance companies in the world today, with a reputation for boundary-breaking performances for 70 years. The Joffrey repertoire is an extensive collection of all-time classics, modern masterpieces, and original works.

Founded in 1956 by pioneers Robert Joffrey and Gerald Arpino, the Joffrey remains dedicated to artistic expression, innovation, and first-rate education and engagement programming. The Joffrey Ballet continues to thrive under The Mary B. Galvin Artistic Director Ashley Wheater MBE and President and CEO Greg Cameron.

The Joffrey Ballet is grateful for the support of its 2025–2026 70^th Anniversary Season Sponsors: The Abbott Fund, Alphawood Foundation Chicago, Daniel and Pamella DeVos Foundation, Gallagher, The Florian Fund, Anne L. Kaplan, and Robert and Penelope Steiner Family Foundation. Live Music Sponsors Sandy and Roger Deromedi, Sage Foundation, and The Marina and Arnold Tatar Fund for Live Music. The Joffrey also acknowledges our Season Partners: ATHLETICO and Chicago Athletic Clubs.

For more information on The Joffrey Ballet and its programs, visit joffrey.org. Connect with the Joffrey on Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn.

Created in 1904, Giacomo Puccini’s Madama Butterfly has become one of the world’s greatest and most popular operas.  New York’s Metropolitan Opera alone had performed it 902 times prior to the beginning of its 2023-24 season.  Renowned for his gifts for melody, Puccini’s musical component is ravishingly beautiful.  His manner of intermixing cultural references into his orchestration also makes it exquisitely complex.  Enhanced with a gripping story about the power of trust and the fragility of love, Madama Butterfly qualifies as an irrefutable masterpiece. Throughout its existence though, the opera has also been an artistic triumph with issues.

An adaptation of a one-act play written in 1900, which itself was based on a short story by an American author, John Luther Long two years earlier, it’s been criticized as being a flawed fantasy.  One created by white men about the essence of another culture.  In this case, Japan.  In Madama Butterfly, an American, Lt. B. F. Pinkerton, arrives in the island country and soon begins a quest for love.  A love that he never plans to be lasting.  Once he returns state side, he’ll re-enter the mainstream and marry traditionally.

Since its origin, issues of perception and portrayal have always haunted Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.  He composed it in partnership with Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica who wrote the text or libretto.  For most of the opera’s existence, the way Japanese culture and its people were projected robbed them of dimension and ultimately diminished their humanity.  In both early productions of the opera and in virtually all that followed, Japanese men saw their virility erased while Japanese women watched their deference be reduced to an exaggerated docility.  As intrinsically lovely Madama Butterfly is as a creative jewel, for the Japanese people and many others of color, it has also been deeply problematic.

For Matthew Ozawa, Director and Chief Artistic Officer of the Lyric Opera of Chicago, it was as well.  As a Japanese-American director of operatic works, his relationship with Puccini’s masterpiece has been fraught.   He knew intrinsically as a director he could never present it in a conventional way.  If he were ever to take on the challenge of staging the piece, he would do it through more enlightened eyes.  The current production of Madama Butterfly he directs at the Lyric, running through April 12^th, shows how spectacular a 122-year-old classic can look and feel with a total makeover by a gifted artisan.

Ozawa’s Madama Butterfly, co-produced by the Cincinnati Opera, Pittsburg Opera, Detroit Opera and the Utah Opera, dismantles the old format and completely rebuilds it in a contemporary context.  The overhaul was so comprehensive, keeping the original orchestration and libretto unaltered and intact was a condition for greenlighting his vision.   

The Company of Madama Butterfly.

Like many men of his generation, Ozawa loved playing video games growing up.  It wasn’t a leap for him to envision Madama Butterfly taking on the features of a machine generated video game offering a portal to an alternate reality.  Pinkerton (tenor Evan LeRoy Johnson) would travel to Japan through his headset and begin a journey that would lead to the devastating consequences we all know will follow.

But first, like any talented leader, Ozawa needed to assemble a team to bring his concept to fruition.  Based on opening night’s performance at the Lyric, a better dream team probably doesn’t exist.  Recruiting all females as his key collaborators, who were either Japanese or Japanese-American, cultural accuracy and agency would no longer be a concern.  Each of them a heavy hitter in her respective craft, the composite experience they created was so remarkable it could easily be considered revelatory.  The superb impact of Kimie Nishikawa’s set designs and Yuki Nakase Link’s lighting talents made on the production’s visual potency and dynamism can’t be overstated. 

A muted background would suddenly blaze in dramatic color and fill with subtly ornate splendor when Pinkerton donned the goggles that would transport him to Japan. There, Maiko Matsushima’s costume designs bowled you away with their texture, imagination, sophistication and beauty.

Even when we first finally meet Cio-Cio-San, Butterfly, played by Karah Son, we’re visited with the unexpected.  She’s as small and delicate as butterflies are, but in her words and carriage you sense the steel in her spine.  At 15, she may have become a geisha to support herself, but she’s clearly proud of the fact that she’s also “well-bred”.   That inner dignity is an ever-present element of her character. 

Son has played this crucial character in houses around the globe; in her native Korea, Warsaw, Berlin, Bologna, Los Angeles and San Francisco just to list a few.  This production marks her Lyric debut.  She knows this part.  From the excellence of her soprano Saturday night, and the flawlessness of her acting abilities, she is this part.   

Johnson, a wonderful tenor who’s also making his debut at the Lyric, makes a compelling Pinkerton.  He doesn’t quite comprehend the import of his words when Sharpless (Zachary Nelson) tells him to “Be Careful, she trusts you”, until it’s too late.  Finally realizing what that trust has cost releases his humanity.  But it can’t stop the payment deception exacts.

In the final scene, where only pathos is expected, this presentation all but blinds you with the complex beauty of real life through the fiction of a story.  Ozawa’s brilliant directing, Son’s gifts as a marvelous actress/vocalist and Puccini’s stunning score converge to cause the soul to quake.  

Puccini’s Madama Butterfly now truly soars.

Madama Butterfly

Through April 12, 2026

Lyric Opera of Chicago

20 N. Wacker Drive

Chicago, IL  60606

For more information and tickets:   https://www.lyricopera.org

Highly Recommended

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

White Rooster arrives at Lookingglass Theatre with the kind of wild, genre‑bending confidence that reminds you why this ensemble has always been one of Chicago’s most inventive storytellers. Ensemble member Matthew C. Yee - doubling as writer and director - conjures a darkly funny, legend-steeped ghost story that feels mischievously modern in this world‑premiere production. What begins as a family tale rooted in early‑1900s China unfurls into a surreal, music‑laced journey through a spirit-ridden American town of gold prospectors, where the living and the dead negotiate unfinished business with equal parts tenderness and absurdity.

That sense of slipping between worlds is echoed the moment you enter the space. For two gripping hours, the audience is submerged into a mysterious, rickety mining town - red light seeping through the floorboards as white, flowing curtains above and below the attic sensually breathe with every spectral draft. A mine entrance sits just below the stage; a shadowy passage characters slip into when needed to dig deeply for gold - and climb back out only if they are fortunate. 

The theatre is arranged in a bold, innovative configuration that feels unmistakably Lookingglass, and once the lights go down, our surroundings tilt sideways. White Rooster summons a realm of folklore and restless spirits in a spellbound theatrical storm. There isn’t a bad seat in the intimate Lookingglass house.

Yee’s setting brilliantly blends Chinese mythology with timeworn Americana, woven together through Lookingglass’ trademark physicality and vivid visual artistry. Lookingglass builds a set that’s equal parts dusty ghost town and drifting dreamscape, all weathered wood, shifting platforms, and shadow‑hungry corners. Nothing stays still for long. Cloth walls slide softly across the room, lighting tricks the eye into seeing motion, and the entire environment reacts to the characters’ emotional temperature - as if the town itself is leaning in to listen.

The tone in White Rooster swings delightfully between eerie and, at times, hilarious – a fiancé who won’t stay dead, a sister who won’t stay buried, and a rooster whose presence is as oddly ominous as it is absurd. The stage is set for a journey that feels truly singular, a ride unlike anything else audiences will encounter.

Karen Aldridge in Lookingglass' White Rooster. Photo by Justin Barbin.

The story centers on Min (finely played by Sunnie Eraso), a young woman desperate to outrun her past, only to discover that the past travels fast - especially when it’s carrying old curses, stubborn spirits, and grief that refuses to stay buried. As the spirit world starts calling to her, we’re left wondering whether she’ll remain among the living or cross over to the dead.

Min stands at the center of White Rooster like a live wire - restless and, at the same time, determined. I feel that through her, the story becomes something of a tug‑of‑war between who we were raised to be and who we’re trying desperately to become. And every time Min thinks she’s found solid ground, the environment around her shifts - sometimes literally - reminding her that souls from the past don’t just haunt; they negotiate, bargain, and occasionally throw a tantrum in grand fashion.

Maria (fiercely played by Karen Aldridge) and John (vibrantly inhabited by Mark Montgomery) are Min’s parents and June (Noelle Oh – bravo!) her sister. Together they orbit Min with the gravitational pull of family - comforting one moment, complicating everything the next. Maria brings the ancestral weight, the traditions and expectations that shape the supernatural rules of this world – and she can tell a mean ghost story.

Reilly Oh is outstanding as Pong, a mythic wildcard who brings humor, mystery, and a touch of the uncanny. Pong is the character who reminds you that in this universe, what lies beyond the veil isn’t just a threat - it’s a personality, a mood, a powerful force with its own agenda. He and Min develop real, and complicated, feelings for each other, until an unexpected twist shifts the story’s course and ushers the white rooster into a central role.

Through it all, Pong’s parents Judy (Louise Lamson) and Hao (Daniel Lee Smith) are a strong support system for both Min and their son. Their performances, full of humor and tenderness, add texture and tension - the sort of familial presence that renders grief both intimate and unwieldy. In the meantime, June, Min’s ethereal sister residing in the attic, expands the emotional landscape. She gives Min someone who reflects the stakes of staying connected even when everything inside her screams to run. Together, they form a constellation of women whose histories overlap, collide, and echo through the dust of this otherworldly settlement. And in a twist that complicates everything, June’s heart belongs to the version of Pong that no longer exists. Blink and you’ll miss something; the play keeps unfolding in unexpected ways.

Fang, a medicine man and Wu are played by Elliot Esquivel through April 5^th and Nik Kmiecik April 8^th-26^th. The two slip between identities with the fluidity of spirits who’ve long stopped caring about the boundary between the living and the dead. They capture the play’s obsession with inheritance - what we cling to, what we hide away, and what keeps clawing back to the surface no matter how deeply it’s buried. In the process, Esquivel scores a generous share of genuine laugh‑out‑loud moments.

Together, this ensemble of characters creates an atmosphere that’s sinister, hilarious, and deeply human, the kind of emotional tapestry that Lookingglass loves to unravel right in front of you. Though Yee’s approach is thematic rather than didactic, he offers no crystal‑clear moral - instead, June, Min’s spectral sister, delivers the closest thing to one: a deep, aching hunger for something she can’t find, especially heard in the way she screams “I’m hungry! I’m hungry!” It’s a hunger shared by every ghost drifting through this world or the next.

(from left) Noelle Oh, Reilly Oh, Sunnie Eraso in White Rooster at Lookingglass Theatre. Photo by Juston Barbin.

Ghost stories flare to life throughout the play by various characters - crisp, vivid, and wickedly staged - sending me right back to those childhood nights when one good scare made you latch onto the nearest friend. And, like a haunted house, the set and effects amplify it all, bringing this shadow-touched world to life with real ingenuity. Layered with White Rooster’s puppetry, which moves like a shared heartbeat - one force sculpting the landscape, the other lending its phantoms their physical form - the result feels kinetic in the eeriest way.

Yes, the puppetry slips right into this dimension, never as a gimmick but as the show’s beating heart of paranormal logic. From shadow‑puppeted silhouettes rippling across illuminated draperies to Dave and his scene‑stealing pet pig to the white rooster that becomes its own mythic force, the blend of object manipulation and visual animation is an imaginative jolt that feels handcrafted and otherworldly at the same time. Together, the set and puppets create a realm that feels porous and alive, the kind of roguish, immersive ecosystem where even the furniture seems menacingly capable of waking up. 

This haunted domain comes to life through the combined minds of Natsu Onoda Power (scenery), Mara Blumenfeld (costumes), Hannah Wien (lighting), Justin Cavazos (sound and score), Amanda Herrmann (props), and Caitlin McLeod (puppets). Their contributions braid together - darkness blooming, objects murmuring, fabrics holding memory - until the world feels less crafted than conjured. The result is a creation that’s tactile, mischievous and emotionally grounded even as it spirals into folklore‑fueled madness. Lookingglass completely immerses us in the supernatural.

Says Artistic Director Kasey Foster on Yee’s offering, “White Rooster has been a thrilling ride from its very first conception in 2020. Matt chooses unique stories to tell, entirely original and fresh, and in his debut role as Director at Lookingglass, he has brought that same originality and "cool" to the staging and design of White Rooster.”

And ‘cool’ is right, with cast members trading off on electric guitar - distortion blazing and ominous percussion driving the suspense. The show’s mix of humor and heartbreak, along with its inventive staging, makes it feel unmistakably like a Lookingglass premiere: collaborative, imaginative, and rooted in personal storytelling.

During the opening night festivities, I chatted briefly with co‑founder and board member David Schwimmer, who was clearly thrilled to discuss the theatre’s refreshed, reimagined space. Lookingglass Theatre’s recent renovation marks a striking reinvention of its public presence. The historic Pumping Station now opens directly onto Michigan Avenue, leading into a bright, flexible lobby that doubles as a café, gathering space, and creative hub. Modular seating, projection surfaces, and expanded rehearsal and education areas turn the venue into an all‑day destination, while warm touches - from celestial‑inspired terrazzo floors to an amber “lantern” box office - give the space its signature glow. More than a facelift, the redesign reshapes how Lookingglass engages its community, creating a welcoming, versatile home for its imaginative spirit.

In the end, in this recently renovated theatre and with this world premiere, White Rooster heralds Matthew C. Yee as a rising playwright‑director with a gift for weaving myth, humor, and heartbreak into something wholly new.

Highly recommended.

White Rooster runs at Lookingglass through April 26, 2026, with performances most Wednesdays through Saturdays at 7:30 p.m. and select matinees at 2:00 p.m. on Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Tickets through the Lookingglass box office start at $33, while Hot Tix lists discounted seats in the $51–$62 range, and select Lookingglass Class events offer pay‑what‑you‑can options. The run also features several special performances, including Folklore Day on March 22 at 2:00 p.m., a mask‑required show on March 25 at 7:30 p.m., open captioning on April 3 at 7:30 p.m., and AAPI Night on April 9 at 7:30 p.m. For tickets and/or more information, click here.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

King Odysseus returns home to Ithaca after twenty years’ absence: ten years’ fighting the Trojan War (it takes time to build a big enough wooden horse), followed by a ten-year journey during which everything that could go wrong does go wrong: think rush-hour traffic on the Kennedy under construction. When he finally arrives, Odysseus finds yet another complication: in his absence a hundred men have undertaken to lay claim to his throne, actually taking up residence in Odysseus’ palace, scarfing down his harvests, seducing his servants, and harassing his wife.

Penelope has made every effort to discourage the putative suitors, her most recent gambit being a challenge to string Odysseus’ mighty bow, then use it to shoot an arrow through a line of a dozen axe handles. That’s pretty serious and, unsurprisingly, none of the opportunists manages. Everyone is amazed therefore when a stranger (Odysseus disguised as a beggar) nails it. The disappointed contenders aren’t happy about this, and are further aggrieved when the ‘beggar’ throws off his rags, identifies himself, and advises the intruders to hit the road.

Odysseus, legitimately vexed at the situation, answers their disgruntlement with violence and all hundred freeloaders are … well, the proper verb is in question, as it’s unclear whether Odysseus righteously executes or viciously murders them. This is the issue we explore in TRIAL OF ODYSSEUS: is Odysseus a champion, heroically defending his title, his home, and his family? Or is he a villain, goaded by jealous rage into a frenzy of unwonted slaughter?

TRIAL OF ODYSSEUS was … what to call it? to be honest it was not truly theater. TRIAL OF ODYSSEUS was presented as an actual trial, with Antonio M Romanucci and Daisy Ayllón of Romanucci & Blandin LLC prosecuting and Patrick M. Collins and Tinos Diamantatos of King & Spalding LLP arguing for the defense. A panel of four judges (Georgia M Alexakis, Sara L Ellis, Jeffrey G Chrones and Anthony C. Kyrikopoulos) and twelve jurors examined and cross-examined both the witness Phimeus (Leonardo Sfondouris) and Odysseus, played by Christos Vasilopoulos.

The final decision, however, was ours. Each audience member was provided with their choice of two tokens, blue for guilty and white for innocent. At the close of examination these tokens were collected and their count served as the verdict: Odysseus was found Not Guilty., I suspect that those voting Guilty did so from the viewpoint of twenty-first century law. I can’t believe anyone in the Bronze Age, roughly 1200 BCE, would not fully sympathize with Odysseus’ reaction, however grisly.

I’m totally ignorant of judicial matters, and someone better acquainted with legal procedure might have found problems with how the trial was portrayed, but I thought it was as credible as it was entertaining. For one, it certainly reflected the delay encountered in our modern magisterial system, as the event under arbitration occurred more than 3,000 years ago. A real trial for first-degree murder would probably incorporate less humor, but the Court had no difficulty drawing parallels across the three-millennium time difference; many of these comments were quite amusing and were certainly appreciated by the audience.

TRIAL OF ODYSSEUS was instructive, engaging, and just plain fun! The bad news is that it was a single production; there will be no further performances. But keep your eye on the National Hellenic Museum, as they offer regular events and exhibitions.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.