Items filtered by date: November 2007

It’s Christmas 1183, and King Henry II has gathered his family together at his court in Chinon, France, with hopes of settling once and for all the future legacy of the House of Plantagenets by naming one of his sons as successor to the throne.

So, Henry’s three sons, who are all vying to be named king, Richard Lionheart, his eldest surviving son, Geoffrey, his middle son, John, his youngest son (and Henry’s favorite), along with Henry’s mistress, Alais, who is also betrothed to his son Richard, and his estranged wife, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who has been released from prison for the occasion, gather together for a family reunion of sorts. Add in an appearance from the King of France, Philip, whose sister just happens to be the king’s aforementioned mistress, and you have the makings for a truly volatile get-together.

As Eleanor quipped, “Are we hanging the holly, or hanging each other?” And you thought your family holiday gatherings were fraught with tension!

It is against this backdrop of family intrigue, scheming, and naked hostility that “The Lion in Winter,” a fictionalized account of these historic events, is set. The play, written by Highland Park’s own James Goldman, debuted on Broadway in 1966, earning Rosemary Harris a Tony Award for her depiction of Eleanor, and later inspired the Oscar-winning film, starring Peter O’Toole as Henry, and Katherine Hepburn as Eleanor.

I came expecting a serious melodrama centered on the complex interpersonal relationships of Henry’s tattered family, and so was pleasantly surprised to find myself laughing along with the rest of the audience at the sarcastic jabs, verbal taunting, and what in the skilled hands of Director and Resident Artist Ron OJ Parson, was the almost comically inept plotting by the three sons. Despite a play whose main source of action is based on dialogue, I found the performance fast paced and was completely drawn into what was happening on the stage. You didn’t want to miss a word of the verbal potshots being landed right and left between those on stage.

It was the opening night for the Court Theatre’s 2023-2024 season, which now in its 69^th season, has built a firm foundation on reimagining the classics for a modern audience. It was my first time visiting the Tony-award winning theatre, and I will return. What struck my husband and I was the sense of community and camaraderie among the theatergoers. Clearly, the audience was filled with many of the cast’s family members and well-wishers, but the buzz of anticipation among the audience before the curtain came up reminded me of attending my daughter’s high school musical performances, where everyone knew each other. That certainly seemed to be the case here, as greetings were exchanged between rows and sections. We were even greeted warmly by our row-mates, something I have not experienced at other theatres, and it made for a family-like atmosphere in this intimate setting.

From start to finish, the performance was captivating; each aspect working in harmony toward the end goal. The set design, under the direction of Linda Buchanan, was sparse, but effective. The play moved seamlessly from banquet hall to bedroom to dungeon with the mere addition of a chair, a table, a bed. There was little to distract us from the main focus of the drama – the verbal fireworks and emotional interplay between Henry and Eleanor.

Both actors bring a clear understanding of their characters to the performance. John Hoogenakker, a veteran of the Court Theatre, brings Henry’s very personal struggle to remain relevant and stay in control of his kingdom to life through his understated, yet powerful performance. At one point, we witness Henry’s rage and absolute desire to win at all costs against his wife, Eleanor, yet we also are privy to the tender moments as he swears his love and allegiance to Alais, his mistress. There’s also a beautiful scene between Henry and Eleanor toward the end of the second act, where they recall their first meeting and the strong bond of love that once existed between them that was truly moving in its tenderness and depth of emotions.

Rebecca Spence, in her debut performance at the Court, plays Eleanor as a strong, confidant woman, with an intelligent and acerbic wit, who is as determined as Henry to win the day and anoint her own favorite, Richard, to the throne. Yet, Spence also allows us to see Eleanor’s true inner desire, which is to be loved -- by her son, Richard, by Alais, who she had helped raise in the English court, but most of all, by Henry, for whom she has never stopped loving. It’s a masterful performance by Spence, and while her Eleanor made me squirm at her decidedly unmotherly moments, I also felt empathy for her as the spurned, older woman whose time has passed by and who no longer can command Henry’s love.

The three sons are skillfully played as well with Shane Kenyon as the warrior, Richard Lionheart, Brandon Miller as Geoffrey, the quintessential middle child, who continually asks, “And what about Geoffrey?”  and Kenneth La’Ron Hamilton, as the dim-witted inept younger son, John, whose has only one card to play – his father’s affection. The three scheme and change alliances so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the changing teams. At one point, in a hilarious scene, all three end up hiding in Philip’s bedroom, listening as the King of France betrays them all – including Richard’s love for him.

The ensemble is rounded out with a solid performance from Netta Walker as Henry’s mistress, Alais, who brings to the role a tenderness and devotion to Henry that serves to counterbalance the relentless infighting and backbiting among her lover’s family.  I admit I was puzzled at first by the portrayal of Philip, King of France, by Anthony Baldasare, because his character seemed weak and inconsequential against the stronger more dominant characters onstage, but the scene in which he outmaneuvers Henry’s three sons and Henry himself displayed a strength of character and that Philip is as accomplished a schemer as the others.  

 The play ends much as it began, with no resolution at hand. Eleanor must return to prison, and the three sons continue to bicker and fight over who will ascend to the throne.  Yet, in the closing moments, as Henry and Eleanor climb the stairs, arm-in-arm, we sense that they will live to fight for another day, motivated as much by their hate, as by their love.

The family intrigue and infighting charged by greed and ambition that underscores the storyline of “The Lion in Winter” may not be for everyone this holiday season, but its honest, sometimes tender, sometimes humorous, portrayal of life is a performance worth seeing.

“The Lion in Winter” plays at the Court Theatre from Nov. 11 through Dec. 3.

Based on a book by two authors and giving playwriting credit to three authors, "The Lifespan of a Fact" speaks in a notably singular voice. Now in its Chicago premiere at TimeLine Theatre, the play takes a celebrated freelance writer, his editor at an esteemed magazine, and a newbie factchecker through a weekend clash over an essay. As the trio speeds towards a Monday morning deadline to get copy to a printing press in Kankakee, IL, they wrestle with the difference between fact and truth.

It is a fact that in 2002, a 16-year-old leaped to his death from the Stratosphere Tower in Las Vegas. In response, John D’Agata wrote an essay and Jim Fingal, hired to check the facts, did just that until the piece came apart at the seams. That led to a book about their process, The Lifespan of a Fact, and then playwrights Jeremey Kareken, David Murrell and Gordon Farrell fashioned a 90-minute drama by the same title that opened on Broadway in 2018.

Here in a Chicago, Michelle Moe directs PJ Powers as John who insists he is an essayist, not a journalist; Alex Benito Rodriguez as Jim, the recent Harvard graduate who challenges John’s loose relationship with facts; and Juliet Hart as Emily, the pragmatic editor trying to avoid lawsuits. As the publishing deadline approaches, all three actors cling to their viewpoints while imbuing their characters with a generous amount of charm.

A script with such complex authorship might have been a muddle but it is not. "The Lifespan of a Fact" is sharp, focused and funny. Objecting to John’s use of the phrase “traffic jam,” Jim draws a diagram of the number of cars that John claimed to be at an intersection. Later John describes the numerically precise young man as “poison to the creative process.” What the script does not do, however, is go beyond its consideration of media ethics and into its characters’ interior lives.

This makes it hard to connect with them emotionally. Briefly, though, the script edges into vulnerability with John, currently living in his late mother’s Las Vegas home. Its fusty, dated, floral décor seems miles from the Vegas Strip. It’s a house for which John bought an armchair with dimensions that didn’t match the catalog description at all points – and which, therefore, was tough for his mother to navigate with her walker. It’s also a house from which she was transported to a hospital by ambulance, her time of death no more exact than the armchair measurements.

John reveals that his mother had volunteered for a suicide hotline and that, after her passing, he worked a hotline shift, taking calls from people anguishing in Las Vegas’ dark corners. For a moment, the tone shifts from intellectual debate to deep feelings for a mother who tried to help others. Emotions, John hints, motivated him to seek the truth, not the facts, about the 16-year-old who threw himself off the Stratosphere Tower.

Had the play brought its characters to this level of authenticity, the loss of a young life might have felt truly tragic. It might have brought us closer to its public and personal meaning, and the conflict between the people onstage might have been far more disturbing. "The Lifespan of a Fact" is playing through December 23 at TimeLine Theatre. 

There are two moments I love most when I’ve seen productions of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical.

First, the audience usually contains a fair number of people who grew up with Ms. King’s songs as the soundtrack to their younger years. And when those songs start being performed during the show, the years since those youthful days disappear and folks start singing along, tapping along, smiling along. The room lightens and brightens somehow.

The second moment happens at intermission. Many of those same people who’d just been transported to their youths declare, “I didn’t know she wrote that song” or “She wrote that song?”

To me, those are two of Carole King’s superpowers—and the reason she’s always been the perfect and most deserving subject of a Broadway jukebox musical. She’s not only the soundtrack to millions of adolescences, to happier days, to young love, to better times (I’ve made the case before that she’s the American Lennon and McCartney, all in one package), but she did it (and still does it, per those surprised comments at intermission) on the sly.

And that—both King’s genius, and the path that genius took to being recognized—is the magic of the current production of Beautiful at the Marriott Theatre, directed by Jessica Fisch.

First off, the production has a wonderful Carole King. Kaitlyn Davis certainly knows the role, having played King in productions both nationally and regionally. But it’s not just that Davis plays Carole King. She really becomes Carole King. I’m a big fan of Ms. King, and Davis’ portrayal—throughout King’s career—is spot-on. Like King, Davis is an accomplished pianist, accompanying herself throughout the show—while also nailing the timbre and tone of King’s voice; seriously, this isn’t a theater person approximating a songwriter’s voice, it’s someone with a warm singer/songwriter’s voice who’s also got Broadway chops.

And Davis does more than just sound like Carole King. She looks like her. As King, she transforms throughout the show, as King ages and lives her life—going from a 16-year-old girl in Brooklyn to a wife and mother who also happens to live at the top of the Billboard charts. And she has real chemistry with Andrew Mueller, who plays husband and writing partner Gerry Goffin. Mueller’s Goffin, Janet Ulrich Brooks’ Genie Klein (Carole’s mother), and Lawrence Grimm’s record producing Don Kirshner (who could’ve easily been overplayed as just a stereotypical music biz exec, but who Grimm gives some nice humanity) all connect emotionally with Davis and make this more than just a jukebox, but a biography.

But, like every Marriott production I’ve seen, the rest of the cast is what takes this show to a whole other level. Stacked with talented actors, the cast transports us back to a certain time and place both sonically and visually. Erica Stephan, always a pro in any productions she’s in, is mid-century elegance as rival songwriter and friend, Cynthia Weil. Weil’s partner in music and love, Barry Mann, provides the show’s comic relief, but Justin Albinder does more than just get laughs—his musical numbers are among the show’s highlights—especially his duet with Stephan on “Walking in the Rain” and his solo electric performance of what would become an Animals hit, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place.”

And that right there is what I was talking about up at the top…

Everyone knows that song. Or, when it comes on oldies radio or a commercial, they remember that they once knew that song. But folks don’t often realize that that song, and so many other hit songs from that era, didn’t just magically appear on vinyl or on the radio waves. No, people wrote those songs. And that’s what this show explores—making people of Mann and Weil and Goffin and, especially, King.

But it then, again thanks to the Marriott production’s wonderful ensemble, puts those songs back into their natural habitat, as hit songs on the charts of a particular era. Songs performed by girl groups and vocal groups and people other than songwriters grinding—albeit beautifully—at an old upright piano.

The group who really brings the King/Goffin and Weil/Mann compositions to life throughout the show is the production's Drifters—Christian Denzel Bufford, Naiqui Macabroad, Yasir Muhammad, and Juwon Tyrel Perry. Each of The Drifters provide lead vocals when it’s his turn, but they all also act as a musical time machine, with their smooth 60s dance moves (choreographed by Christopher Windom), their stunningly coordinated outfits, and their beautifully blended vocal harmonies. These four turn what are great songs into hits.

And so do the rest of the ensemble. Daryn Whitney Harrell stuns the audience (and, spoiler alert, a heartbroken King) with her “One Fine Day.” Ariana Burks does the same with Mann and Weil’s “Uptown.” We see a song go from good idea to great piece of art when that same songwriting duo’s “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” goes from Mann plunking around on it himself to Adam LaSalle and Ben Mayne as The Righteous Brothers making it one of the biggest hits ever. And near the end, this comes full circle, as Melanie Brezill, Alexis J. Roston, and Alina Taber provide the soulful backing vocals the audience knows and expects on a showstopping version of Goffin and King’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.”

And while Kaitlyn Davis’ Carole King reclaims that song and makes it King’s own, just as she makes this role her own, it is also thanks to the entire cast and crew of Marriott’s production of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical—running now through December 31—that until the end of the year audiences will be transported back to their younger years. And that—the ability to bend time, to break hearts, and to buoy spirits, all through song—shows the beautiful brilliance of Carole King.

For so many children of the ‘80s, the revisiting and repurposing of our childhoods’ intellectual and emotional property is comforting. Maybe I’m more cynical, but so many of pop culture’s attempts to cash in on my nostalgia don’t do much for me. And so, when Tim Burton’s beloved tale of a recently deceased married couple and their debauched and equally dead ghostly exterminator became a Broadway musical, I was unsure about yet another attempt to take my fond memories and put them on the stage.

All that to say, I went into the Auditorium Theatre for Broadway on Chicago’s current production of Beetlejuice the Musical. The Musical.The Musical. a skeptic. And I came out smiling like I haven’t smiled in years.

For real, this is the most enjoyable production I’ve seen since before the pandemic.

It began with the set, which won me over immediately. I’ve found that shows put on in the Auditorium face the challenge of living up to such a large, looming, living house as Adler and Sullivan’s 19^th-century masterpiece. Sometimes it can overshadow shows. Sometimes it can swallow them up. Sometimes it’s just too much, itself. Not in this case. The set, designed by David Korins, already faced the challenge of living up to the zany and iconic look of the film, straight from inside Tim Burton’s head. But the set does live up to Burton’s vision—from the BETELGEUSE sign and spooky lighting—designed by Kenneth Posner—that greets you to the ever-changing innards of the soon-to-be-haunted house that hosts the show, as do the costumes (by William Ivey Long), the projections (by Peter Nigrini), and especially the puppets (by Michael Curry). This production not only recreates the brilliance of Burton’s movie, but it also recreates the BIGNESS of it. This Beetlejuice is a real spectacle, as it ought to be.

The music, too, of this 21^st-century reimagining of 20^th-century classic totally works. Going in, I knew the songs would be good, as my daughters have played the original Broadway soundtrack around the house since it came out in 2018. With words and music by Eddie Perfect, these are really good songs. And the orchestra, produced and supervised by Matt Stine and Kris Kukul and directed by Andy Grobengieser and Julia Sunay, is really tight throughout, something as a musician myself I notice and appreciate.

Yes, if the wonderful scenic and sonic experience I had at Beetlejuice was all I had to talk about, it still might rank up there with the shows I’ve most enjoyed. But I haven’t even gotten to the show’s cast yet. And—as they would be filling roles first played by none other than Michael Keaton, Catherine O’Hara, Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, and Winona Ryder—that was my main area of concern. Could anyone live up to those names and those performances?

This cast does.

Justin Collette takes on the title role with ghoulish glee. While Collette nails the gravelly voice of the original, he doesn’t try to perfectly recreate the grubbiness of Keaton’s spectral chiseler. Collette’s Beetlejuice is a bit more modern, a bit more fun—more carnival barker or social media attention hound than used car salesman—while every bit as irreverent and foul-mouthed (and actually Rated R to the 1988 PG-rated poltergeist). And Collette can sing. He’s on all night long—all over the stage, interacting with the audience like a standup comic, dancing with the ensemble, shaking a leg, breaking off an arm, evading a sandworm, holding a minute-long note—without breaking a sweat. I was out of breath just watching him, but Collette proved himself a real pro.

Also, a real pro—in her professional debut—is Isabella Esler as poor little broken-hearted gothic girl, Lydia Deetz. Now, again, I’m a 1980s kid. And Winona Ryder will always be everything to me—especially as the original Lydia. In fact, in the clips I’d seen of other performances from other productions of Beetlejuice, Lydia was the one who could never live up to the original. But Esler does that. She not only keeps up with an ever-changing set and never-tiring ensemble, but she also leads them. Confident, coordinated, and with a face so expressive it seems to pop right off the Auditorium’s giant stage and right into the seats, Esler was every bit the star of the show as Beetlejuice. And like Collette, Esler can also really sing—always finding another gear and a higher or more emotionally compelling note—sing like someone who’s been doing this for decades.

The rest of this cast, too, are professionals, or even better than the great professionals I’ve come to expect in such productions. Baldwin and Davis were (and still are) reliable, benignly attractive icons in the film. But as recently deceased husband and wife onstage, Megan McGinnis and Will Burton play up the boring and benign, which only highlights how extraordinarily talented the two are. They sing, they dance, they act as ensemble side pieces when needed, but carry whole scenes themselves.

While those two expand on the film’s characteristics, the two other principal characters are much different, and for the better in this case. The book—by Scott Brown and Anthony King—takes license throughout, even referring to the fact that this isn’t the Beetlejuice many old fans like me might be expecting. Because of the big plot changes, the roles of Lydia’s parents completely change. Instead of sleezy Jeffrey Jones’ standard 80s sleaze he brought to this or other film classics, Jesse Sharp’s Charles Deetz is someone you can—or come to—root for. And as Catherine O’Hara (always the perfect film mom from that era) is inimitable, the show doesn’t even try. Kate Marilley’s Delia Deetz is a completely different character than O’Hara’s, and Marilley is a complete hoot—maybe the most fun physical comedian on a stage that’s full of them during this production.

So, yes, this production, wonderfully directed by Alex Timbers, not only won over this old, pessimistic grump (and completely charmed the audience, regardless of age), it wowed me. From the sights to the sounds to the stars on the Auditorium Theatre stage, Broadway in Chicago’s current production of Beetlejuice—running now through November 19—is an event you do not want to miss.

The Yellow Rose Theatre is one of Chicago’s newer venues, having launched in 2020 during Covid, with a company that demonstrates a passion for their work. Located at The Vault, an entertainment space at 607 W. Fulton, it is just a couple blocks east of the trendy Fulton Market District, in the restored Fulton Jefferson Building. An unusual split-level design that lends itself to conventional and immersive theater. 

Yellow Rose numbers 10 ensemble members, and an equal number of guest actors and playwrights, including Francis Brady, whose “Justicia” is nearing the end of its run. Tickets include access to an open bar and finger food, and audience members may mingle and gnosh before each performance and during intermissions—giving the shows a unique flair and sense of communality with the productions.(We saw "TV Land" there in May.)

Directed by Kieran O’Connor, Brady’s “Justicia,” while a bit uneven, has the heart of a solid play. A courtroom drama, it centers on the travails of a small town litigator Pappa (Rick Yacobnis) whose daughter (Katherine Wetterman) has left her own successful practice in Chicago to join his struggling firm—struggling because he takes on underdog cases regardless of the client’s ability to pay. He has relied on a line of credit from the local bank where the loan officer has a heart and has kept him afloat.

The first act opens in a courtroom hearing presided over by a Judge (Jorge Salas) as the plaintiff Ron (Joseph Arvo Levander) argues that he was wrongfully discharged and demands as a remedy that he be reinstated. The employer’s defense counsel (Madeline Diego) offers a modest cash settlement, but her client doesn’t want Ron back, deeming him no longer able to handle the jackhammer used in his work.

That summary is not difficult to extract from the action, but the presentation of this story was hampered by a number of things, beginning with the lack of a set, which caused the judge to sit below and look up at the lawyers arguing the case.

Pappa laces his arguments with Shakespere quotes, which might be okay but seem largely unrelated to the matters at hand. And for a public immersed in courtroom procedurals on streaming channels, the informality and departure from expected court protocols works against the believability. Lots of exposition and character building takes place in subsequent scenes, with the appearance of the daughter’s budding love-interest (Sophia Vitello), and father-daughter talks. But the first act is rather a muddle.

The second act puts the play on a more solid footing, opening with a new, young Bank Officer (Joe Bushell) who is all business as Poppa arrives to plead for an extension on the line of credit. The Bank Officer parries handily Poppa’s arguments that the bank should continue to fund this “practice with a heart.”

Bushell’s performance is the most solid of the cast, he’s a real pro and redeems the script somehow, suggesting the writing is a reach for the other performers, or that Brady is good at writing bank officer characters.

Lavender plays Ron very well, but is given little to work with, fated to repeat “I want my job back” endlessly. Levander’s voice and action convey the anguish of a late middle aged worker made redundant. He finally says “I want to work,” and “I want a paycheck”— in other words, be a useful and productive citizen. Brady could give us, and the character, more to say about his anguish.

Pappa is going through that same generational challenge as his daughter works to straighten out the firm’s finances, and takes on Jim's case to rescue it after Pappa, in an ill-advised move, has Ron demonstrate his ability with the jackhammer before the judge. (Unfortunately he drops it.)

So if you’re game to see it, “Justicia” runs November 9 and 11 at Yellow Rose Theatre. I’m going back to the venue to see The Yellow Rose’s “Thank God It’s Monday” or “T.G.I.M.” running November 10 and 11, a series of comic shorts in an immersive show. Both shows include eats and drinks. Tickets are at yellowrosetheatre.com 

We all have tough days at work, but when your job is in the Oval Office, a bad day at work could be trouble for the entire country. In Steppenwolf’s regional premiere of ‘POTUS or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive’ by Selina Fillinger, an all-star female cast brings comedy and hijinks to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Steppenwolf Artistic director Audrey Francis directs this new play hot off its recent Broadway run with a cast of familiar Steppenwolf favorites. The chemistry between these seven performers is worth the admission price alone. Not to mention Selina Fillinger’s hilariously biting script. If you’re a fan of HBO’s ‘VEEP’, you’ll love these stressed out, foul-mouthed, political badasses.

Sandra Marquez plays Harriet, the chief of staff for a Trump-like president. Her day is unsettled after the president publicly refers to his wife in derogatory terms. On damage control is press secretary Jean (Karen Rodriguez), and tightly-wound aid Stephanie (Caroline Neff). Not only do they have to spin the narrative, but they also have to wrangle zany first lady, Margaret (Karen Aldridge). Take all of this and add in the president’s surprise pregnant girlfriend Dusty (Chloe Baldwin) and his pardon-seeking, ex-con sister Bernadette (Meighan Gerachis), and you’ve got yourself a first-class mess.  

Borrowing elements from traditional farce comedy, ‘POTUS’ is a whacky, madcap satire of just an average day at the White House. Though Fillinger likely wrote this play during the Trump administration, there’s a lot of universal and fair criticism that ultimately begs the question, couldn’t a woman do this job better?

After White House journalist Chris (Celeste M. Cooper) accidentally injures the president, all hell breaks loose. Even though most of the satire of the president is done so in reference to Trump, the ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ theme in the second act underscores how much of our political machine is done by staffers rather than politicians themselves. It also points to the grizzly specter of age that hangs over many of our most influential Washington leaders.

It's rare to hear so many audience members audibly snap and respond with vocal enthusiasm, but the combination of strong casting, great script and near perfect direction make this a show that immediately resonates with people. While its themes are overtly feminist, there’s something for everyone. It’s a workplace comedy after all, and many of us know trouble of working in a chaotic environment.

As another presidential election year quickly approaches, plays like ‘POTUS’ ask us to demand more of our elected officials. Within a slapstick comedy, Fillinger poses some deep questions, specifically, “who’s running this show?” In her play it seems like nobody is really driving the car, so much as they’re just making sure it doesn’t catch on fire. When an administration just moves from controversy to the next, it makes you wonder is any progress being made?

Through December 10 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650

*Extended through December 17th

It’s hard to find words to describe DEEPLY ROOTED DANCE THEATRE’s performance. Phenomenal …  wondrous … magnificent … incredible – all these and more apply but even all together they’re insufficient to the task.

DEEPLY ROOTED DANCE THEATRE, a Chicago-based dance company, has been expressing the transformative power of art through dance education and performance since 1996. In their own words, Deeply Rooted Dance ‘reimagines and diversifies the aesthetics of contemporary dance by uniting modern, classical, American, and African American traditions in dance and storytelling’. That last word, storytelling, is uniquely cogent. Friday night in the Auditorium Theatre every dance told its own story within a program that formed an artistic digest of Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s history.

The first chapter was Junto [translation “Together], choreographed in 1990 by Kevin Iega Jeff.  Junto was comprised of three episodes: a duet with Rebekah Kuczma and Mekeba Malik, a quartet of Emani Drake and Ahmad Hill, Nyemah Stuart and Sam Ogunde, and a second duet with Alyssa MacCullum and Louis Pearson.  Costume Designer Victoria Carot expressed Pat Metheny’s jubilant music in vivid primary colors: each pair of dancers wore leotards of radiant blue, red, yellow, or verdant green. Sarah Lackner was Lighting Designer for this and every piece, and was masterful, including in some numbers of various images projected against the back of the stage. Stage Manager Gwenne Godwin, with Assistant Razor Wintercastle, molded all components into an exultant whole.

The revival of 53 Inhale, choreographed by Gary Abbott in 2009, recounted Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s middle years, expressing Abbott’s ‘heartfelt tribute to the artists in my life’. Cherae Grimes, Joshua L. Ishmon, Mekeba Malik, Sam Ogunde, Taylor Ramos, and Nyemah Stuart performed in costumes designed by Victoria Carot.

NOTE: The Aud Theatre had a program kerfuffle, and I had no program to refer to and make notes on until Intermission; apologies in advance for any errors.

Vespers, a perennial favorite, was choreographed in 1986 by Ulysses Dove; he also designed the original costumes, redesigned by Lea Umberger. The dance began in a pas de deux with Emani Drake and a straightback chair; gradually she was joined by Taylor Ramos, Alyssa MacCullom, Heather Cagle, Rebekha Kuczma, and Nyemah Stuart. Mikel Rouse’s “Quorum” provided an electronic percussive score that displayed the dancers’ lithe and dynamic elegance. Gravity-defying leaps and the interrelationships and energies between the six women combined beautifully.

This was Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s company premiere of Mama Rose, a solo performance by Emani Drake to the music of Archi Shepp / Jasper Van’t Hof. Victoria Carot designed the beautifully austere black costume. Choreographer Keith Lee dedicated this work to New York dance icon Thelma Hill. Emani Drake’s brilliance is, naturally, most gloriously appreciated in solo performances, but I’m just as enthralled by her ability to integrate with other dancers without eclipsing them – like Cassie in A Chorus Line.

A pause followed Mama Rose, giving the stage crew time to carefully sweep the floor so the finale could safely be performed barefooted. Deeply Rooted often performs barefoot, a striking feature one doesn’t commonly see in professional dance, for the obvious reason that a dancer’s feet must be as cherished as a pianist’s hands and a singer’s throat. I experienced the absence of footwear as a powerful statement for the final chapter in this chronicle of Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre.

The finale was a World Premiere of the entire 30 minutes of Madonna Anno Domini, choreographed by the company’s Artistic Director Nicole Clarke-Springer. Costumes, an ‘inspiration from Men Ca Acnem’ were stylized street clothes, eloquently drab. The soundtrack was unique, as much spoken as musical, began with excerpts from President Barak Obama’s 2008 victory speech in Grant Park and Aretha Franklin singing The Long and Winding Road. Culoe de Son and Alev Lenz were followed by Sinead O’Connor, with a rich narration running throughout, one phrase of which stays with me: “take my ex-cannibal’s kiss and make a revolution”. Madonna Anno Domini was an anthem to 200 painful and triumphant years of struggle for racial equality, and specifically three generations of civil rights work in Clarke-Springer’s family history. Madonna Anno Domini was about persistence and about community, about tyranny and leadership, and the complex aftermath of all that empowerment.

The audience is a vital part of any performance, and never more so than with Deeply Rooted Dance. I’m not given many opportunities to be, as a white woman, in the minority. In a crowd. As always it was both compelling and effectual, but as a reviewer it was challenging. The Auditorium Theatre was packed, yet within the throng there was a powerful atmosphere of kinship; a kinship that did not include me: the stranger at a family reunion, writing a review from the outside looking in. I mention it to put my views in context.

It seemed that every dancer – certainly every one of the principals – had a squadron of family and friends in the audience. They applauded for every brief solo or pas de deux, never disruptive, just enough to herald their specific and loving support. And after the final curtain the dancers beckoned everyone – Artistic Director, Rehearsal Director, Executive Director, Choreographers and Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all – onstage for ovations, flowers, and hugs.

Family. Community.

Eloquent.

November 3^rd’s was a single-night performance, but I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you attend DEEPLY ROTTED DANCE THEATRE at the first opportunity.

The witch is back, Jen Silverman’s ‘Witch’ that is. Since first being commissioned by Writer’s Theatre back in 2018, Jen Silverman’s take on Jacobean theatre has become a somewhat popular selection for regional theaters. The Artistic Home Ensemble brings this play back to Chicago in a revival directed by Devon Carson going on now at The Den.

What continues to be striking about this play is its exploration of hopelessness. ‘Witch’ is about an ostracized woman living in the 1600s who the townspeople have decided (without basis) is a witch. Her miserably lonely life is spiced up when the devil himself comes to town and begins meddling in the lives of the villagers. Some are more easily tempted than others, but the supposed witch, Elizabeth Sawyer (Kristin Collins), is harder for the devil to convince. Besides, what can anyone offer someone who has lost hope for a better future?

The devil played with fiendish fun by Julian Hester finds himself enamored with skeptical Elizabeth Sawyer who is also drawn to him. They spend long nights discussing their world views and within their conversations, Jen Silverman peppers in some humorous, but unsettling monologs about the human condition. Kristin Collins as Elizabeth has a great way of shifting between comedic relief and heart-rending vulnerability. Her character all the while pleading, “can things ever really get better?”

As the devil and Elizabeth get to know each other, the devil also inserts himself into the lives of the richest family in town. His gentle suggestion sets in motion a bitter rivalry that plays out with classic dramatic irony.

Silverman’s script is wise in its sharp tongue and makes a statement on the general apathy many feel every day. In her version, the devil himself has hopes and dreams, but outcasts like Elizabeth have long lost hope that her neighbors can ever evolve past their pettiness.

Like Arthur Miller’s ‘The Crucible’, this play holds a Puritanical mirror to our own time, but unlike John Proctor, Elizabeth doesn’t have altruistic intentions. She may be the protagonist, but she’s not your standard heroine. Silverman’s point in comparing our two eras is to show that people haven’t gotten any wiser. People are still inherently selfish and highly subject to influence.

‘Witch’ is well-acted and well-styled. For a play with such a dark core, there’s a lot of comedy here and this cast really plays that up. Kristin Collins brings a Molly Shannon quality to the lonely Elizabeth that makes her plight far less depressing than it sounds. Hogan’s chemistry with Julian Hester is fun to watch.

More than anything, this play remains as timeless in 2018 as in 2023, because while some political and societal things have gotten better, some have inevitably gotten worse. There will always be cynics and optimists duking it out and perhaps the easiest place to be is somewhere in the middle.

Through December 3^rd at The Artistic Home Ensemble at The Den. 1331 N Milwaukee. 773-697-3830.

"The Night of the Hunter" is not a feel-good play, but it is a very good one, exceedingly well performed and produced. Playing at City Lit Theatre through December 3 it was adapted for the stage by Shawna Tucker from the novel of the same name by Davis Grubb.

It is based on the true story of Harry Powers, a serial killer hanged in 1932 in Clarksburg, WV. 

John Harper (Alex Albrecht), driven to despair in the Great Depression, impulsively robs a bank, killing two people. He stumbles home and gives the $10,000 he stole (an exorbitant sum in 1932) to his nine year old son John and little Pearl, who’s not yet four. Before surrendering himself to the police he extracts from young John a pledge to always protect both his little sister and the money, cunningly hidden inside Pearl’s favorite dolly.

Harper’s cellmate in Moundsville Penitentiary is Powers (Bryan Breau), a con man who murders widows once he’s reaped their savings. Unable to winkle the secret from Harper before he’s hanged, Powers is eventually released, and promptly heads for Harper's tiny Appalachian hometown to try his luck with the widow.

Kendal Romero and Bryan Breau in "Night of the Hunter" at City Lit Theatre.

The struggling young widow Willa (Kendal Romero) is waiting tables at the cafe – the hub for town gossip – and speculation on “Where did he hide the money?” has become a town obsession. Willa swears her husband never told her, but most don’t believe her, especially Powers, and he proceeds to charm her, along with the rest of the town. Bryan Breau is indeed tantalizing as Preacher; one wonders, with café owners Icey (Sheila Willis) and Ben (Alex Albrecht) at Willa’s hesitation to accept his proposal.

Mary Margaret McCormack is full-grown and taller than Pearl’s ‘elder’ brother John (Jacqui Touchet), yet she plays the role of Pearl so credibly that one sees not the actor but the little girl. McCormack eloquently depicts the turmoil and distress of a little bitty girl burdened with far too big a secret, especially as, unlike John, Pearl is enchanted with her "new daddy." But she trusts her big brother, even when she’s sure John is wrong.

Jacqui Touchet’s John was just as persuasive: a youngster poised at the transition from childhood into manhood, forced too early into the role of "man of the house," only to be challenged by a man John neither likes nor trusts. Touchet gave an authentic picture of a boy trying to protect his mother and little sister from a man that everyone insists is a good man, a Man of God; a “Preacher.”

Sheila Willis was brilliant as Icey, a scold and a quidnunc with the classic heart of gold and generally good intuition … except about Preacher. Other townsfolk – Ruby, Miz Cunningham and Birdie – were variously played by Rich Cotovsky and Simmery Branch.

I was impressed by Kendal Romero’s interpretation of Willa as an ineffectual woman whose instinct to refuse Preacher capitulates under peer pressure, only to be verified on their wedding night, when Preacher declares their union will be platonic. Evidently he’s not quite ruthless enough to bed a woman he intends to defraud and then kill – what a guy, huh?

Willa is naturally disheartened by his rejection, but under his high-falutin’ pretexts and vindications (not neglecting to mention an Apple from a certain Tree), her disappointment and chagrin mutate into shame at her own depravity. She seeks to purge herself by active participation in the Preacher’s tent revivals where her testimonies, a savory amalgam of titillation and self-loathing, garner huge collections. But it's still not enough for Preacher; he’s haunted by the image of that $10,000.

Director Brian Pastor divided the action into multiple brief vignettes separated by commentary from the Narrator Shawna Tucker, who also wrote the stage adaptation. Set Designer Jeremiah Barr built a very simple set, ably lit by Lighting Designer Liz Cooper, whose raised platform created multiple levels and facilitated rapid transitions using only a couple of benches and a café table. The apparel chosen by Costume Designer Rachel S Parent effectively illustrated each character: ‘accidental’ glimpses of Pearl’s little-girl underpanties complemented McCormack’s portrayal of the child, and dropping Willa’s hemline below that of other townswomen clinched her irresolute persona.

I’ve seen the work of many violence choreographers and Paul Chakrin’s was top shelf, and Stage Manager Ayla Sweet choreographed the swift scene changes expertly. The Depression-era Appalachian accents were adroitly piloted by Dialects Coach Carrie Hardin.

“Put someone inside of a box and cut them in half, people think it’s magic. They think it’s a special box. But, tear up a dollar and restore it right under their nose, or look into their mind and read their thoughts, or make something magical happen in their very own hands…. That is an experience they will never forget. – Ed Watkins

The Magic Parlour presented by Goodman Theatre & Petterino’s Restaurant is an absolute tour de force of mind-bending entertainment that left the audience in awe and wonderment. From start to finish, the performance was a seamless blend of astonishing sleight of hand, uncanny mentalism and captivating showmanship.

The showman of this production is Dennis Watkins, a third-generation magician, actor and entertainer. His critically- acclaimed show The Magic Parlour is currently running in the opulent lower-level of the iconic Petterino’s Restaurant on the corner of Dearborn and Randolph.

Dennis Watkins mastery of card manipulation was nothing short of extraordinary. With lightning-fast dexterity and precision, he effortlessly controlled the deck, making cards appear and disappear in ways defying logic. Every move was executed flawlessly, leaving even the most skeptical (me) observers scratching their heads in amazement.

What truly set this performance apart, however, was the incorporation of mentalism. Watkins demonstrated an uncanny ability to read minds, predict choices and even influence the thoughts of volunteers from the audience. The mind-boggling feats left the crowd gasping in disbelief. As a volunteer, I tried my best to stump Magician/Mentalist Dennis Watkins to no avail. He guessed with precision, I might add, and it blew my mind.

The production values were also noteworthy. The lighting and sound design were expertly calibrated to enhance the overall experience, ensuring every subtle move and gesture was visible in this intimate venue.

The cocktail menu is a delightful highlight, showcasing specially curated drinks tailored for the occasion. Additionally, a complimentary drink (which includes options like beer, wine cocktails or soft drinks) is included in the price of the ticket, adding an extra touch of hospitality to the experience.

With a VIP admission, after the show you will be escorted to a private space where you will sit with Chicago’s top magician, Dennis Watkins, for another half hour of magic and a question-and-answer session. He doesn’t give out his secrets, but the up-close magic will have you asking lots of questions.

Whether you’re a die-hard magic fan or a casual observer, this show is guaranteed to leave you spellbound and eager for more. Don’t miss the opportunity to witness this exceptional magician in action – it’s an experience you won’t soon forget.

Where: 50 W. Randolph Chicago, Illinois 60601
Info: www.themagicparlourchicago.com
Tickets $85.00 - VIP - $115.00