Items filtered by date: November 2007

Beloved children’s author Roald Dahl’s timeless story of the quirky and mysterious candy-maker looking for his heir apparent comes to life in an energetic and magical performance in the Theatre for Young Audiences’ musical adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory now on stage at the Marriott Theatre in Lincolnshire.

The 70-minute-long performance is a wonderful mix of old and new. Older members of the audience appreciated the familiar tunes from the 1971 film starring Gene Wilder, such as the iconic “The Candy Man,” “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket,” and “Pure Imagination” while the younger audience was captivated with the “Queen of Pop” (and next “It Girl”), Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee’s all-things techno obsession, and the very spoiled and demanding antics of Veruca Salt.

Upon entering the theatre, with the centerstage bathed in cool purple lighting and musical tributes featuring candy playing in the background, the audience is immediately transported to another place and time, where “pure imagination” reigns. The magic continues as the show opens with a flash news report from “Cherry Sunday” (Megan Long) about the famed candy-maker’s search for a suitable replacement to take over his workshop.

A delightful chorus of Oompa-Loompas, bedecked in colorful multi-patterned coats, jaunty bowler hats, and oversized sunglasses, appear in every aisle, allowing the young audience to feel part of the show, as they introduce us to the main man himself. Willy Wonka, wonderfully played by George Keating, brings just the right amount of quirkiness, charm, and empathy to his character.

The story continues as Mr. Wonka announces a worldwide contest, hiding five golden tickets in his chocolate bars. The lucky “finders” will be invited to visit his famed factory and be eligible for the grand prize. We meet young Charlie Bucket, played by the very talented Kai Edgar, who lives for Willy Wonka chocolate bars and dreams about winning a ticket. But his family is so poor that they can only afford to buy Charlie one candy bar on his birthday.

Charlie shares his dreams for helping his family and writes a letter to Mr. Wonka, telling him about the many wonderful candy confections he would invent for each family member, then sends it sailing out into the world, knowing there is little chance that he would ever win.

And, as the four golden tickets are quickly won by an assortment of spoiled, ill-mannered kids from around the world – the sausage-consuming Augustus Gloop (Elias Totleben), the foot-stomping demanding Veruca Salt (Elin Joy Seiler), the gum-chewing social-media queen Violet Beauregarde (Avelyn Lena Choi), and the techno-obsessed Mike Teavee (Gordon Henry Heisler) -- Charlie’s hopes dim. And when he, at last, does receive a Wonka bar, alas, no golden ticket. Charlie is distraught.

Yet, the kindly candy-story shopkeeper, who is unbeknownst to Charlie is Mr. Wonka himself, drops a dollar bill, and with it, Charlie buys the very last Wonka bar in the world. To his amazement, Charlie wins the last golden ticket. The audience broke into delighted applause as Charlie and his grandfather cavort around the stage in celebration.

Under the skillful direction of Amber Mak, who also choreographed the show, the magical world of Willy Wonka’s mysterious chocolate factory comes to life through a combination of artful staging, colorful costumes, and confectionary props that looks almost good enough to eat. Throw in some bubbles and the clever use of large lighting panels that surround the stage and enhance the action on stage, and voilà – your imagination takes you right into the very heart of Wonka’s enchanted workshop.

The audience squealed in part dismay, part approval, as one by one the obnoxious cadre of children, brilliantly played by Totleben, Seiler, Choi, and Heisler, were eliminated from the competition because they crossed the line and broke the rules. And yes, thanks to an ingenious costume design, the gum-chomping Violet Beauregarde, does turn into a blueberry to the wonder of the crowd.

Finally, Charlie and his grandfather are the only ones left, and Mr. Wonka invites them into his sacred workshop where all the delicious designs are born. Leaving his book of creations behind, with a warning not to look inside it, Mr. Wonka and the grandfather go off to sign some papers for awarding the grand prize. As Charlie walks toward the forbidden book, the audience yelled at him to stop, but of course, he cannot help himself and opens the book.

When he discovered there were empty pages in the notebook, Charlie begins to sing again of his own dreams and visions for confectionary creations. When Mr. Wonka returns, rather than banishing Charlie from the factory as he did the other children for disobeying his rules, he tells Charlie that he indeed has won the grand prize because of his good heart and his pure imagination. Charlie is now the next “Candy Man” and inherits the factory.

As the young crowd applauded its approval and left the theatre thoroughly satisfied and entertained, the words to “The Candy Man” came back to me, “Who can take tomorrow and dip it in a dream?” The Candy Man can, and for one magical hour, the accomplished cast of the Marriott’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory did as well.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Theatre for Young Audiences is running through March 28 at the Marriott Theatre, located at 10 Marriott Drive in Lincolnshire. Performances take place on most Wednesdays through Sundays at 10 am with select 12:30 pm performances. Visit www.marriotttheatre.com or call 847.634.0200 for the exact schedule, as show times and dates may vary.

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“The story of these characters has already begun.”

When you enter the Factory Theater space for Kubrickian, you will notice that the actors are already on stage. Lights are fully up, and the three actors are moving about the stage. One is stretching, another is pacing, and another is doing a mix of the two - even throwing in some light jogging. It’s clear that the three actors are in their own world, and we are simply here to observe.

Director AJ Schwartz warns us of this soft start in the program, and so it should not be a surprise. You might find that the choice is clever for a few reasons. On one level, Zack Peercy’s play takes place in a world that is meant to feel unfamiliar. Watching the actors move about for unclear reasons and without words appropriately sets us up for what we are about to see.

On another level, perhaps Schwartz’s choice gets at the root of what Kubrickian is about. Peercy’s play is about a lot of things. There is isolation and fear. Grief and loss. Even passion and hope. However, at its core, one might argue that this story is about the relationships between the men on stage.  Schwartz sets up a window into who these characters are to each other. As Schwartz notes in the program, their story begins before we arrive. We may not necessarily understand how they got there, but perhaps that’s not the point. We as an audience receive the gift of witnessing their relationships in the present – a brief window into who they are and how they grow before they continue on well after we have left.

Peercy’s world premiere takes place in an unknown white space in which three men find themselves trapped – Chris (Taylor Mercado Owen), Danny (Rio Soliz Ragazzone), and Howard (Ben Auxier). Scenic Designer Josh Philoon appropriately creates a world that feels ambiguous and unknown. Without any clear escape from their situation, Danny and Chris have no choice but to turn to conversation for entertainment. Over the course of the story, the discussions become more intimate, and Danny and Chris realize they may have more in common than they had originally thought.

Schwartz’s ensemble is strong. Peercy’s play is quite the undertaking for all involved. Auxier as Howard moves through the play without sound or motion – simply sitting in the back as the action happens around him. Considering the chaos that ensues around him, that is no small thing, and you might find that Auxier continues to catch your eye as you wonder when there might be a shift and he finally reacts.

Because Howard does not speak, most of this play exists as a two-hander between Danny and Chris – a challenge that Ragazzone and Owen tackle with grace. We quickly learn that Chris has a deep love for Stanley Kubrick films – a genre with which Danny unfortunately has little experience. While this creates an obstacle for much of the beginning, we hit a key moment where Danny encourages Chris to share the details of The Shining. As Chris begins to open up, something shifts in their dynamic. Peercy cleverly unlocks a very specific moment in a relationship where we witness the other’s passion for the first time. As Chris shares what he finds so inspiring about Kubrick’s work, Danny starts to see him in a whole new way. Ragazzone and Owen bring a beautiful authenticity to the scene. In this pressure-cooker of a world, they create a relationship that you want to see succeed. Something to offer a small semblance of hope when it’s unclear what their fate might bring.

The stellar performances and thought-provoking script alone make Kubrickian a play worth seeing. If you are one for a puzzle, then Peercy’s story is certainly a fit for you.

RECOMMENDED

Run Time: 90 minutes without intermission

Kubrickian runs through March 15, 2026 at the Factory Theater – 1623 W. Howard Street. For tickets and information, see the Factory Theater website.

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I love when I’m surprised by a writer I assume is new to the scene, only to discover she has been honing her craft for years, quietly building a body of work the rest of us somehow missed. I love it even more when that discovery feels like striking gold. Such is the case with Kristen Adele Calhoun. A superior writer—assured, funny, emotionally and culturally precise—whose name, until now, had somehow eluded me. With Black Cypress Bayou, now receiving an unbelievable production at Definition Theatre, Calhoun announces herself (at least to Chicago audiences) as a major voice worthy of far more attention than she has received.

Under the smart, lively direction of Ericka Ratcliff, this production hums with comic electricity and emotional undercurrent. Ratcliff clearly trusts the text, allowing its humor to bloom organically while never losing sight of the deeper currents flowing beneath the laughter. The result is a staging that feels both buoyant and grounded—like the bayou itself, shimmering on the surface while concealing depth below.

The play centers on the Manifold women, and Ratcliff has assembled a quartet of actresses whose distinct comedic styles interlock beautifully. Michelle Renee Bester’s Ladybird Manifold anchors the evening with sharp timing and a steadiness that suggests stern resolve and steel. Bester understands that the funniest lines land best when rooted in truth.

Rita Wicks, as RaeMeeka Manifold-Baler, nearly steals the show with a performance that is riotously funny without tipping into excess. Her physical comedy is precise, her reactions razor-sharp. She seems to ride the rhythm of Calhoun’s language like a seasoned jazz musician, finding unexpected grace notes in throwaway lines. The audience’s laughter often arrives in waves when she’s onstage.

RJW Mays brings Vernita Manifold to life with a grounded warmth that balances the more explosive personalities around her. There is a generosity in Mays’ work—a listening quality—that allows scenes to breathe. Meanwhile, Jyreika Guest’s Taysha Hunter offers a refreshing contrast: contemporary, alert, and emotionally transparent. Guest navigates the character’s shifting loyalties and vulnerabilities with admirable nuance.

What makes this ensemble particularly thrilling is that each performer operates in a different comedic key, yet Ratcliff orchestrates them into harmony. The tonal blend—broad, dry, wry, heartfelt—shouldn’t work as seamlessly as it does. But here, it absolutely does.

In a production centering women both onstage and behind the scenes, there is an undeniable sense of cohesion and purpose. Scenic designer Alyssa Mohn, lighting designer Conchita Avitia, and sound designer Willow James conjure a fishing wharf deep in the bayou that feels at once literal and slightly mystical. Weathered wood textures, humid washes of light, and the subtle lapping of unseen water create a world that breathes. The environment is not mere backdrop; it is an active presence.

The costumes further ground the characters in time, economic reality, and personality. Fabric choices, silhouettes, and wear patterns quietly communicate history. We understand who these women are before they speak.

Ratcliff has described Calhoun as “tragically under produced.” After seeing Black Cypress Bayou, that phrase lands with force. If the rest of Calhoun’s catalog carries even half the wit, structural confidence, and emotional intelligence on display here, then Chicago theatres—and American theatres more broadly—have some catching up to do. Calhoun’s other plays, including works that explore Black Southern life, intergenerational memory, and the elasticity of family bonds, reportedly continue her signature blend of humor and haunting. One leaves this production not only satisfied, but curious—eager to track down everything else she has written.

Definition Theatre has given this play the gift every writer deserves: a production that listens, that elevates, that celebrates. Black Cypress Bayou is not simply entertaining, it is invigorating. It reminds us that discovery is one of theatre’s great pleasures. And sometimes, the most thrilling “new” voice is one who has been waiting patiently for us to catch up.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: through March 15th

Where: Definition Theatre@55th, 1160 E. 55^th Street., Chicago, Il.

Running time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets: Start at $25

312-469-0390

definitiontheatre.org

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Marking 70 years of bold, expressive movement, American Icons from The Joffrey Ballet shines as a vibrant salute to the choreographers who shaped American ballet and helped define the company’s enduring legacy. Presented at the stunning Lyric Opera House in the heart of downtown Chicago, the program unfolds under the leadership of The Mary B. Galvin Artistic Director Ashley Wheater, MBE, and President & CEO Greg Cameron. With live accompaniment by members of the Lyric Opera Orchestra, the evening feels grand from the very first note.

Act 1 opens with Kettentanz, choreographed by Gerald Arpino, set to music by Johann Strauss Sr. and Johann Mayer. The curtain rises on a large, beautiful tree center stage, instantly setting a tone of elegance and celebration. The women are dressed in flowing pastel dresses that move effortlessly with each turn, while the men match them with buoyant, precise footwork. The live orchestra, including the delicate, beautiful sound of a harp, adds warmth and richness to the entire act. The dancers are often grouped in pairs, completely in sync, creating a sense of harmony and lightness. The overall feeling is joyful and fresh, almost like welcoming spring. While the choreography feels simple and not overly complex, it works in its favor, allowing the dancers’ technique and musicality to shine. One standout is Hyuma Kiyosawa from Nagano, Japan. He moves with sharp yet graceful precision and a swiftness that immediately draws the eye. His energy radiates across the stage, and when he finishes his time in the spotlight, the audience erupts in applause even as the performance continues. Throughout the act, many dancers take turns in short solos, duets, and pairings, with the men effortlessly lifting the women as they glide through the Viennese-inspired choreography.

After a brief 15- minute intermission, Act 2 shifts dramatically in tone with Secular Games by Martha Graham, set to music by Robert Starer. The curtain rises to reveal six male dancers, shirtless, barefoot, and wearing tights, a striking visual that immediately changes the atmosphere. A woman seated behind me audibly gasps “whoa,” and the audience seems just as captivated. The set includes three ropes, rounded seats, and a ball that the men toss between them. The ball cleverly shifts the audience’s focus, highlighting each dancer in turn as they show off both strength and control. The stage feels almost like a gymnastics practice space, and the opening section carries an intense, competitive energy, as though the dancers are vying for attention and dominance. Each man impresses with powerful movements, one even executes a cartwheel, blending athleticism with artistry.

Eventually, the female dancers enter in leotards of varying colors, adding contrast and balance to the stage. The first duet feels deeply emotional, conveying closeness and intimacy through challenging lifts and seamless transitions. As the act unfolds, the choreography becomes more dynamic and layered, with multiple interactions happening across the stage at once. There is an underlying story of desire and rivalry, a male dancer drawn away from one female partner toward another, competition bubbling beneath the surface. It feels as though everyone is dancing to impress, to attract, to win. One standout here is Lindy Mesmer from Blacksburg, Virginia. She moves with grace and strength, especially during lifts where she holds extended poses high in the air with remarkable control. Her presence feels both powerful and poised, capturing the tension and emotion of the piece.

Act 3 transitions into Postcards, choreographed by Robert Joffrey, set to music by Erik Satie. The mood softens immediately. A male and female dancer, dressed in white, the woman in a flowing white dress, begin a tender duet. Anais Bueno from Córdoba, Mexico and Stefan Gonçalvez from São Paulo, Brazil glide across the stage with a slow, romantic energy. An opera singer enters and begins singing live, a beautiful and fitting addition given the Lyric Opera setting. The dance feels intimate, emotional, and filled with love. Their movements are smooth and connected, almost as if they are breathing in unison. It is a quiet, reflective moment in the evening that allows the audience to pause and feel.

After a second intermission, Act 4 brings the final piece, Voluntaries by Glen Tetley, set to music by Francis Poulenc. The curtain rises to a striking image: a giant white sphere speckled with color dominates the background, echoing the tones of the dancers’ costumes. Victoria Jaiani and Dylan Gutierrez begin the pas de deux in silence, moving without music in a way that immediately captivates. Suddenly, the organ erupts with a dramatic sound reminiscent of Phantom of the Opera, filling the theater with an almost eerie intensity. The duet is fluid and daring, their bodies contorting and intertwining with precision and trust. There is something celestial about the staging, the moonlike sphere, the unusual music, the almost otherworldly costuming. As more dancers join in a pas de trois and multiple couples take the stage, the choreography grows expansive and technically demanding, filled with lifts, flips, and sweeping transitions. While the opening moments are mesmerizing, some sections with the larger groups feel slightly repetitive. Still, the athleticism and difficulty of the choreography are undeniable. The piece ends as it begins, returning to the single couple in silence, bringing the evening full circle.

Overall, the two-hour program moves quickly, each act distinct in tone and style, giving the audience just enough time with each choreographer’s vision. The talent within The Joffrey Ballet is truly remarkable, from the precision of classical pairings to the raw athleticism of modern movement. American Icons is a colorful, dramatic, and thoroughly entertaining night at the theater.

Performances run February 19 through March 1, 2026, at the Lyric Opera House, 20 N. Wacker Drive, Chicago. Showtimes include 7:30 p.m. evening performances (Thursday through Saturday) and 2:00 p.m. matinees on select Saturdays and Sundays. Tickets are available through joffrey.org or directly at the Lyric Opera House box office. For anyone looking for an evening filled with live music, emotional storytelling, and truly impressive dancers, this is a performance well worth seeing.

For more information, click here.

What do you do when something in life, an unforeseen occurrence, challenges what you thought was one of your most deeply held beliefs?  What direction do you take if adhering to your convictions could mean sacrificing something exceedingly dear to you?  Do you follow your moral compass or choose the personally expedient? These are the kinds of questions that drive Admissions, Joshua Harmon’s brilliant and piercing 2018 play fresh in its run at Citadel Theatre Company in Lake Forest.  Teasing out the answers to this dilemma makes for some of the best theater you’ll likely find anywhere in the metropolitan area right now.

It takes shape in a place where most of us have little knowledge, an elite private high school on the east coast. This one is named Hillcrest.  Sherri Rosen-Mason (Susie Steinmeyer) has been the Admissions director there for years and throughout her tenure; promoting diversity in the student body has been as much a passion for her as it is a mission.  Every incremental percentage increase in minority enrollment is met with euphoric elation.

Sherri’s husband, Bill (Tim Walsh) leads the school as its headmaster. They have a son, Charlie (Justin Jarzombek), who’s finishing his senior year there.  Highly successful and proudly liberal, Sherri and her husband are more than aware of their privilege in society and are anxious for others with fewer advantages to share in the bounty they enjoy.

The timeframe is just a mere ten years ago when, despite its many vocal detractors, diversity was increasingly the law of the land and becoming enshrined in our institutions.  Because it doesn’t impact them directly or personally, many Americans still respond ambivalently toward the change and view it simply as a manifestation of cultural evolution.  Much like Roberta (Elaine Carlson), Sherri’s Development officer who designs the school’s promotional materials.  She tolerates it or may even support diversity as a principle; but it has no real bearing on her own life.

Aptly directed by Beth Wolf, that perceptual imbalance between Sherri and Roberta provide the foundation for frequent incisive and wonderfully humorous scenes that take place whenever the two women sit down to review the promotional catalogs being sent to prospective students. Roberta doesn’t really understand why she must include more pictures of Black students in the recruitment material.   When Sherri asks her why a Black student would want to come to a school if they didn’t see anybody who looks like them in that school’s brochures, Roberta invariably gives a dismayed pout before moving into defensive dismissiveness.  Echoing the kind of language you’d expect of a person who never felt the drag of race as a weight, her outlook on the subject could easily be thought cavalier.   Full of genteel spunk, and propelled by the boldness of Joshua Harmon’s writing, Carlson in her role of Roberta is as illuminating as a powerful lighthouse.  Exposing this rarely viewed profile of a recessed but likely prevalent national mindset makes her character boundlessly fascinating.  And Carlson fills it with laudatory panache.

Something very similar happens when we learn more about Sherri’s son, Charlie.  Elite private high schools, wherever they’re located, know their purpose.  To help pave the way to assured success.  Excelling in academics, sports and his sundry other interests, Charlie appears destined for a life very similar to his parents.   Both he and his best friend, Perry, the bi-racial son of a professor at the school who’s also a super-achiever, have their eyes on Yale.

Although very close in their achievements, Charlie edges out Perry ever so slightly overall.  But it’s Perry, a person we never see on stage, who’ll get to claim the bulldog, Handsome Dan, as his school mascot next Fall.  Charlie receives a beautifully crafted rejection letter. That’s when the stuff of the nightly news becomes real for the Mason family.  

It’s not unusual for disappointment to induce rage. In a Homeric monologue, one that’s as eloquent as it is tremendously edifying, Charlie unleashes the hurt and angst of a generation who feel as if they’ve been placed on an altar of sacrifice.  A generation of white boys and young men who believe their futures are being used to pay for the past misdeeds of a nation.  Jarzombek delivers it splendidly, pushing it deftly down into the souls of a rapt audience and receiving an immediate and enthusiastic ovation for his efforts.

Just as compelling is its counterpoint, embodied in Ginnie, Perry’s white mom.  Hers is another voice seldom heard on the dramatic stage, that of white woman raising a black child.  Played with lovely craftsmanship by Tina Shelly, she’s angered as well as hurt when she gleans people she considers her friends, people who know her son’s abilities, believe the primary reason Perry was accepted into Yale is his color.   

One of the wonderful things about exceptional writing is that you know not to expect conventional, easily anticipated endings. And there certainly isn’t anything like that here.  It’s the way things resolve that you luxuriate in.  Like the way Charlie rises and demands an equal voice in shaping his future.  And then see where that takes him. Or how Ginnie rejects equanimity to embrace passion and stands her ground; never vacillating in her defense and championing the primacy of her family.  Shedding giddy to proudly wrap herself in armor. 

As delightful as the rest of the cast, Steinmeyer as Sherri and Walsh as her stalwart other half gleamed like fine gems as played a married couple who knew how to push and challenge each other with both true force and real respect.  What they don’t do is also very telling.  Which makes Admissions the kind of story your mind might return to when you find yourself, someone you know or even a country, thrashing through a moral conundrum.

Admissions

Through March 15, 2026

Citadel Theatre Company

300 S. Waukegan Road

Lake Forest, IL   60045

For more information and tickets:  https://www.citadeltheatre.org/admissions

Highly Recommended

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

“Hamnet,” a stage play adapted by Lolita Chakrabati (known for Life of PI and Red Velvet), and directed by Erica Whyman is in its U.S. debut at Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier. This production originated and performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company for its U.S. tour, has generated a lot of excitement, heightened further by the many Oscar nominations for a film by the same title, though it is a very different adaptation of the same book.

Both were drawn from Maggie O’Farrell’s best-selling novel “Hamnet: A Novel of the Plague” speculating on the life of William Shakespeare and his wife and family. The story line delves into the family life of the couple, the first act devoted to William and Agne’s birth families and their love affair and eventual marriage.

The second half revolves around their children, and traces Shakespeare’s ascendancy into the upper echelons of English theater. He draws the attention of the queen, is celebrated on the stage in London for his prolific stage works and his published poetry.

We meet actors Burbage and Kempe. Bert Seymour and Nigel Barrett, who play other roles too, are excellent as the real historic actors who were the definitive contemporary interpreters of Shakespeare’s scripts on stage. (Chicagoans who saw “The Book of Will"  had a thorough introduction in that rendering of the development of the First Folio in the years following Shakespeare’s death.)

At “Hamnet” on Navy Pier, though, there are a few problems with the production that detract from the interesting story. Like “Shakespeare in Love,” which generated a fictional hypothesis about a love affair that inspired the Bard to pen “Romeo and Juliet,” in “Hamnet” it is the death of Shakespeare’s son, Hamnet, that is posited to have fed the emotional plane of “Hamlet.” And that is an intriguing theory, drawn from the book.

Saffron Dey as Judith and Ajani Cabey as Hamnet

“Hamnet” dutifully recounts the marriage of Agnes (she is generally known to us as Anne but historically she was Agnes) and William, she 26 and pregnant, and he just 18. The first child Susanna (Ave Hinds-Jones) was born a few months later, and a few years hence twins—Judith (Saffron Day) and Hamnet (Ajani Cabey)— sprang forth. Historically Hamnet died in 1596; four years later “Hamlet” hits the stage.

The book and play adjust this time frame, to have Shakespeare at work on the debut of “Hamlet” as his son contracts an illness and dies. That’s reasonable creative license, especially in the interest of drama. (Harper's Magazine offers an excellent contrast of the history as it's adapted for "Hamnet.") And the performances are quite excellent. Agnes (Kemi-Bo Jacobs) gives us an intense performance of a character devised to explain her genius husband’s attraction, and perhaps his inspiration by her. William (Rory Alexander is excellent throughout), though the script forces an unlikely maturity at just 18 as he coaches and counsels Agnes toward their marital fate.

What was jarring was the fact that all the actors wear microphones, with a uniformity of volume set by the mixing board, presumably, that is unnatural, especially for Shakespeare. The unfortunate effect was an echo chamber, in Chicago Shakespeare's handsome The Yard which simulates the interior of the original Globe. Also two screens at either side of the stage provided subtitles, which are quickly explained by the diversity of English dialects used by the actors. Some would be unintelligible to American ears without them—but I found myself reading, at the expense of watching the action center stage. Perhaps supratitles as used in opera would have been better.

And it’s probably necessary to comment on the incidental and transitional music, composed by Oğuz Kaplangi. Some pieces were quite lovely, evocations of the late 16th century. But fast-paced scene change music, sometimes with a Latin beat, was overbearing, and the percussion especially excessive. Was it compensating for the slow pace of what was on stage?

And for a play about Shakespeare, why did we hear so little from the subject's original work? The excellence of “Shakespeare in Love” was the celebration and display of many slices from his actual writing that advanced the case for its explanation of the origins of “Romeo & Juliet.” In this Royal Shakespeare company’s “Hamnet,” we’re given just a tiny bit at the end, as Agnes witnesses the play for the first time, a scene meant to tie up and resolve all the loose ends. They loved this in London’s West End, but in Chicago it's just not enough. See if you agree. “Hamnet” runs through March 8 at Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier.

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

There is something almost perversely apt about staging Miss Julie inside a birdcage.

Under the direction of Gabrielle Randle-Bent, August Strindberg’s most celebrated chamber play, Miss Julie—an autopsy of class warfare disguised as seduction—arrives at Court Theatre in a production as conceptually bold as it is frustratingly self-defeating. Scenic designer John Culbert places the entire action within a giant birdcage veiled in scrim. The metaphor is unmistakable: these three characters are trapped—by class, by gender, by desire, by the invisible architecture of hierarchy. Within this enclosure they circle one another warily, predator and prey trading positions until collision becomes combustion.

And yet, the scrim that literalizes Strindberg’s thesis also undermines the very essence of chamber drama.

Chamber plays depend on proximity. They require that we see the flicker of doubt before it becomes cruelty, the calculation before it becomes command. The scrim, however gauzy, creates a barrier. We are not fully privy to the faces or the minute mental machinations of the actors. Instead of sitting in the kitchen with them, breathing the same charged air, we observe as though through glass. The concept imprisons not only the characters but the audience.

Still, the performances press fiercely against those confines.

Mi Kang’s Miss Julie is volatile and wounded, her aristocratic arrogance masking a desperate hunger for annihilation. She plays Julie not as a naïve romantic but as a woman testing the edges of her own destruction. Kelvin Roston Jr.’s Jean is taut with ambition. His Jean calculates even while seducing; every flirtation carries the weight of social ascent. The push and pull between Kang and Roston Jr. has genuine danger, their exchanges tightening like wire.

Rebecca Spence’s Kristine, meanwhile, anchors the production with moral steadiness. Kristine is the quiet witness to the carnage—a woman whose survival depends on understanding the rules rather than challenging them.

Kelvin Roston Jr. and Mi Kang in Miss Julie at Court Theatre.

The uncredited score becomes an unexpected fourth character. It begins with what sounds like a restrained string quartet—orderly, almost classical—before devolving into ear-piercing, disconnected, harsh chords. The progression feels deliberate: a descent into madness mirroring Julie’s psychological unraveling. It is invasive, unsettling, and impossible to ignore.

Raquel Adorno’s costumes subtly delineate class distinctions without ostentation. Fabric and silhouette do the quiet work of social architecture. No detail feels accidental.

This may well be Strindberg’s season in Chicago. Across town, Steppenwolf Theatre Company is mounting The Dance of Death, another of the playwright’s bruising dissections of intimacy and entrapment. That two major companies are wrestling simultaneously with Strindberg’s merciless worldview suggests a cultural appetite for dramas in which love is war and escape is illusion.

Court Theatre’s Miss Julie, guided by Gabrielle Randle-Bent’s disciplined direction, understands that these characters are caged long before the lights rise. The tragedy is that the scrim—meant to emphasize their confinement—keeps us from fully experiencing the suffocating intimacy that makes the play detonate. Strindberg wrote this as chamber music for three instruments. When we cannot quite see the musicians’ fingers on the strings, some of the music is inevitably lost.

Even so, the production lingers. Like the final discordant notes of its score, it vibrates with unease long after the cage goes dark.

RECOMMENDED

When: through March 8th

Where: Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis Ave.

Running time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets: $60 - $90.00 Student, Group and military discounts available

773-753-4472

www.courttheatre.org

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

Paramount Theatre’s staging of Dear Evan Hansen brings fresh dimension to the Tony‑winning contemporary musical. Under Jessica Fisch’s direction, the story follows Evan, an anxious, isolated teenager whose therapist‑assigned letters to himself inadvertently spark a misunderstanding with the Murphy family - one that grows into a lie swelling far beyond them and eventually into a community‑wide phenomenon. What begins as a desperate attempt to feel seen evolves into a moral knot that forces Evan - and everyone around him - to confront grief, loneliness, and the universal hunger for connection.

The Murphys are drawn into Evan’s story with a fragile mix of hope and heartbreak, briefly finding in him an echo of the son they lost. His presence momentarily pulls their shattered family together, even as the truth threatens to reopen long‑buried wounds. The family’s grief feels immediate, Evan’s anxiety is rendered with nuance, and the show’s viral‑culture elements land with a more human, grounded weight.

While the video projections are deployed with striking precision that greatly assist in the storytelling, Fisch’s staging ultimately leans into the intimacy at the core of the piece. Rather than echoing the Broadway production’s digital spectacle, Paramount foregrounds character, relationships, and the rawness of teenage interior life.

The score - including “Waving Through a Window,” the very powerful and moving “You Will Be Found,” and “For Forever” - lands with the kind of vocal power and clarity that Paramount’s acoustics tend to amplify beautifully. The production highlights the contrast between the soaring, hopeful music and the messy, complicated truth underneath Evan’s choices.

Overall, Paramount’s Dear Evan Hansen becomes less a story about the internet and more a story about the quiet ache of wanting to matter. It’s intimate, empathetic, and emotionally direct - the kind of staging that makes the show feel newly personal.

“Dear Evan Hansen explores the boxes we put ourselves in: the emotional, the metaphorical, and the digital ones we post, like and share,” says Jessica Fisch, making her Paramount Theatre directorial debut with the Chicago Regional Premiere of the Tony Award-winning musical. It features (from left) Devin DeSantis as Larry Murphy, Elaine Watson as Alana, Bri Sudia as Cynthia Murphy, Pablo David Laucerica as Jared and Isabel Kaegi as Zoe.

The cast is exceptional - let’s take a moment to celebrate each of them.

Paramount Theatre’s Dear Evan Hansen finds its emotional center in Cody Combs, whose Evan is tender, tightly wound, and achingly human. Combs, in his Paramount debut, captures Evan’s anxious spirals and fragile hopes with remarkable clarity, pairing superb acting with vocal work that feels both raw and crystalline, grounding the entire production in authenticity. His performance never slips into caricature; instead, he shapes a portrait of a young man straining to breathe in a world that feels unbearably loud.

Evan's mother Heide Hansen is played by Megan McGinnis who brings a beautifully layered warmth to the role. Her scenes with Combs pulse with a lived‑in tension  - the kind of love that’s fierce, imperfect, and stretched thin. McGinnis’s voice carries both exhaustion and devotion, making Heidi’s arc one of the production’s most affecting threads.

As Zoe Murphy, Isabel Kaegi delivers a performance full of quiet strength and emotional transparency. She sidesteps the trope of the unreachable girl, giving Zoe a grounded, searching presence. Her chemistry with Combs feels gentle and believable, especially in the moments when her grief and Evan’s longing quietly intersect.

Jake DiMaggio Lopez makes a striking impression as Connor Murphy, balancing volatility with a haunting vulnerability. We really feel for him. His presence lingers long after he leaves the stage, shaping the show’s emotional landscape in ways that feel honest rather than sensational. Taking on the role of gamer and Evan’s “family friend” Jared Kleinman, Pablo David Laucerica brings sharp comedic timing and unexpected warmth to. His dry wit consistently lands, yet he still reveals the softer insecurities beneath the sarcasm.

Bri Sudia and Devin DeSantis anchor the Murphy household with sharply etched, deeply felt performances. Sudia’s vocally impressive Cynthia Murphy is all open‑hearted ache - a mother clinging to hope with both hands - while DeSantis’s Larry carries a quieter, more guarded grief. Together, they create a portrait of a family fractured not by a single tragedy, but by years of unspoken pain.

Rounding out this wonderful cast, Elaine Watson brings crisp intelligence and real emotional nuance to Alana Beck, capturing her need to matter with disarming sincerity and seeming confidence. She becomes a quiet mirror to Evan - another teen outrunning her own loneliness in a very different way.

This cast moves with remarkable cohesion. Every scene feels interconnected, every emotional beat supported by the ensemble’s shared sense of truth. Combs’s Evan doesn’t exist in isolation; he’s shaped by McGinnis’s tenderness, Kaegi’s resilience, Lopez’s lingering shadow, and the layered grief Sudia and DeSantis bring to the Murphy household. In fact, every character is beautifully shaped. Their performances lock into one another like facets of the same story, creating a production that feels cohesive, intimate, and deeply human.

For a story centered on so‑called “losers,” this production proves itself a winner in every sense. And though the subject matter is heavy, there’s plenty of levity and genuine laugh‑out‑loud moments to keep the balance just right.

With a book by Steven Levenson and music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, the musical premiered at Arena Stage in Washington, D.C. in July 2015. Since then, it has traveled nationally and internationally - and now Chicago‑area audiences get to experience it in one of the region’s most beautiful venues, the Paramount Theatre.

Highly recommended.

Dear Evan Hansen is being performed at downtown Aurora’s Paramount Theatre through March 22^nd. For tickets and/or show information, visit https://paramountaurora.com/events/dear-evan-hansen/.

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

I like theatre that’s deep, thoughtful, angsty. There’s much to be said for a play providing undemanding escape, but I prefer to challenge my mind, to make me think. And THE LOWER DEPTHS, as adapted by Grayson Kennedy for Gwydion Theatre Company, certainly did that. Don’t see this alone – you’ll want to talk about it afterward. And do not forget to take your Prozac!

The play is the second in Gwydion Theatre's "Season of Class", exploring classism in society. THE LOWER DEPTHS, written in 1902, explores themes of truth vs. illusion, hope vs. despair, through characters like a thief, a prostitute, and an alcoholic actor in a dreary flophouse on the Volga. The central conflict emerges with the arrival of a mysterious tramp who offers hope through stories and advice. However, hope cannot long survive the lodgers’ perpetually bewailing their travails and vicissitudes.

I was initially anxious about how such a large cast (13!) could operate in the confined space of Chopin Theatre. I personally love Chicago’s singular streetfront theatres, boasting perhaps 50 seats and 200-300 square feet of stage space. See, I like to be immersed in the players’ pheromone cloud, perhaps even bespattered with various bodily fluids.

Y’know, reading back over that, it doesn’t sound very inviting, but trust me on this. And trust Chicago as well – Gwydion is oner of the myriad smaller companies that showcase the multitude of superlative actors in this town. In decades of attending these storefront venues I’ve seen plays I didn’t like, I’ve been critical of some production decisions, but very seldom are the actors themselves disappointing. We are very fortunate here in Chicago. I only wish I could believe these professionals are earning paychecks commensurate with their skill.

Where was I? Oh yes, big cast; and I find myself unable to single out the players of individual characters. I always try in these reviews to praise each actor on their individual performance but between their sheer numbers and the peculiarities of Russian names I can but name the cast and beg the actors’ forgiveness:

Alex Levy (Vaska Pepel); Katherine Schwartz (Vasilisa Karpovna); Matt Mitchell (Mikahil Kostilyoff); Brynn Aaronson (Natasha Karpovna); Tommy Thams (Andrei Mitritch Kleshtch); Hannah Freund (Anna Kleshtch); Christopher Meister (Abram Medviedeff);Bryan Breau (The Baron); Evan Bradford (The Actor); John Nicholson (Satine); Howard Raik (Luka); Maddie Hillock (Kvashnya); Abraham Deitz-Green (Alyoshka); Maya Moreau (Swing); Grayson Kennedy  (Swing).

If I’m totally honest (and I owe this stellar troupe that much), even as it was playing, I couldn’t keep track of which character was who. To my relief, this did not interfere with my appreciation of the play and the performances, as it is actually in keeping with the theme of the play. THE LOWER DEPTHS tends to undermine the individuality of the characters: they are emulsified into a slurry of Poor People, faceless and nameless. In this THE LOWER DEPTHS mirrors the attitudes of our Administration: they’re po’ folks, not actual people with real needs and feelings.

Adapted by Maxim Gorky, he was more interested in the characters than in creating a formal plot. There’s no linear sense to the situations portrayed – a woman is dying; the landlord is heartless; everyone’s having an affair with someone – but these are only separate instances in their overall wretchedness. Tellingly, none of them acknowledge any kinship in their tribulations; no one ever says, ‘yeah, I know what that’s like’ or ‘something like that happened to me once’. Thus, while society depersonalizes them, each isolates themself within the siloes of their personal experiences.

Luka, an elderly tramp, arrives with a philosophy of consolation and a better life. Reactions to this message - this theme of harsh truth versus the comforting lie - pervades the play and divides the inhabitants into opposing camps of the hopeful and the realists. Most of them choose to deceive themselves rather than acknowledge the bleak reality of their condition, leading inevitably to violence and death.

Oi! I’m supposed to be encouraging you to see this play, but you’d need to be, like me, a real angst enthusiast to be attracted by my description! But if you do like exploring the depths of desolation; the frequency of forlornness; the drama of dreariness … then THE LOWER DEPTHS is the play for you!

The production team included its artistic directors Tommy Thams and Grayson Kennedy and was drawn largely from Gwidion company members. Scenic Designer Hayley Wellenfeldt and Morgan Kinglsey created a monochromatic and versatile set with Lighting Designer Sam Bessler effectively defining scenes and characters. Costume Designers Cindy Moon and Grace Weir differentiated the subtle differences between, say, the actor and the Baron. Sound Designer Rick Reid sourced authentic Russian period music while Stage Manager Katie Espinoza pulled it all together and put it out there fluidly.

The Lower Depths is the first time in Russian literature that society’s outcasts took center stage in a drama. In claiming importance and humanity for a class that Gorky described as “ex-people” and “creatures who were once men,” he moved Russian drama into the political and social arena that would lead to revolution. May that purpose prevail in our own trying times!

THE LOWER DEPTHS plays at Chopin Theatre through February 28 - https://chopintheatre.com/.

RECOMMENDED

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

Paramount Theatre’s long-running smash hit musical Million Dollar Quartet has wrapped its winter break, and is rebooting to rock downtown Aurora’s Stolp Island Theatre for three more months, March 4-May 31, 2026.

Repeat audiences know, and newcomers really should experience, this new, limited engagement of Paramount’s critically acclaimed, immersive Million Dollar Quartet. Both the theater and the show were custom built to create an intimate, jukebox musical experience like none before, inventively staged inside a replica of the original Sun Records studio in Memphis.

It was there, on December 4, 1956, where Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins famously came together to record one of the most historic jam sessions in rock ‘n’ roll history. In Paramount’s Sun Records, the musical delivers incredible, up-close live performances of some of the best songs in rock ‘n’ roll history, including “Blue Suede Shoes,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” “I Walk the Line,” “Hound Dog” and “Great Balls of Fire.”

Paramount’s production returns with its original Jerry Lee Lewis, Garrett Forrestal, still leaping off his piano since MDQ inaugurated Stolp Island Theatre in June 2024. Veteran rockabilly player Matt McClure returns as Carl Perkins. Also back are Corey McKinney as Elvis Presley and Michael Potter as Johnny Cash, breaking hearts and walking the line respectively since last summer. Connor Green is new to the cast, stepping in as Sun Studios founder Sam Phillips. Paramount’s original Dyanne, show stopper Madison Palmer, and Maeghan Looney as Marion, are both returning for the extension, along with Brandon Pollard as Fluke, and Roy James Brown as Brother Jay, through Mar 22, when Jake Saleh returns as Brother Jay. 

Don’t miss Paramount’s radically unique restaging of one of the most popular jukebox musicals of all time. Dean Richards, WGN-TV/AM, said it was “like stepping into Sun Records where one special night took place." Chris Jones, Chicago Tribune, called it “another example of how much the success of the nonprofit, audience-focused Paramount has transformed the center of Aurora into a live entertainment destination.”

Paramount’s Stolp Island Theatre is located at 5 E. Downer Place, Suite G, in downtown Aurora, with several restaurants and easy, affordable parking just a short walk away.

Paramount’s new, limited engagement of Million Dollar Quartet reopens March 4 and runs through May 31. Performance times are Wednesday at
1:30 p.m. and 7 p.m., Thursday at 7 p.m., Friday at 7 p.m., Saturday at 2 p.m. and 7 p.m., and Sunday at 1 p.m. and 5:30 p.m.

All seats are $76 when purchased in person. Additional fees apply for phone and online orders. For tickets and information, visitParamountAurora.com, call (630) 896-6666, or stop by the Paramount Theatre box office, 23 E. Galena Blvd., Monday–Saturday, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., and until show time on show days. 

Million Dollar Quartet inaugurated Paramount’s new Stolp Island Theatre with much fanfare in July 2024. The production was extended three times due to popular demand, running for more than a year and a half prior to this spring 2026 extension.

Chalk this success up to being a production that delivers on all fronts. As soon as audiences step into the lobby, they find themselves outside the legendary Sun Records recording studio in Memphis, Tennessee, where they can step up to the Taylor’s Good Food concession stand for affordable snacks and beverages, view displays about the history of the play and take selfies astride a vintage-style motorcycle.

Paramount’s directors Jim Corti and Creg Sclavi worked with a “million dollar” production team to create a truly a one-of-a-kind live musical experience, stocked with amazing talent, an incredibly detailed, environmental set, and the amazing production values audiences expect from Paramount.

The production team includes Kory Danielson, music director; Jeffrey D. Kmiec, scenic designer; Matt Guthier, costume designer; Greg Hofmann, lighting designer; Adam Rosenthal, sound designer; Mike Tutaj, projections designer; Katie Cordts, wig, hair and makeup designer; and Jonathan Berg-Einhorn, properties designer. Rebecca J. Lister is stage manager and Emily Hanlon is assistant stage manager. Understudies are Roy James Brown (principal Brother Jay to start, understudy when Jake Saleh returns in late March), Brian Grey (Johnny Cash, Sam Phillips), Michael Kurowski (Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley), Drew Mitchell (Fluke), Ben Smallwood (Carl Perkins) and Kyle Wells (Brother Jay). The book is by Colin Escott and Floyd Mutrux. Original concept and direction by Floyd Mutrix.

Verano, a leading cannabis company that operates Zen Leaf dispensaries in Aurora and across Chicagoland, is Venue Sponsor for Stolp Island Theatre. Old National Bank is Marquee Sponsor for Million Dollar Quartet.