Items filtered by date: November 2007

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.

An Ibsen play on a cold winter’s evening just feels right. Marti Lyons delivers a stylish (and concise) production of “Hedda Gabler” at Remy Bumppo. With an impressive cast of Remy Bumppo ensemble and new faces, this 100-minute version gets right to the point.

Among the countless translations and adaptations of “Hedda Gabler” that have been written, Christopher Shinn’s version makes a bold, modern statement. Taken from a literal adaptation by Anne-Charlotte Hanes Harvey, this telling dispenses with Ibsen’s ambiguity almost entirely. Classic melodramas tend to run long and in this day and age, audiences easily grow frustrated with overly long plays laden with innuendo. Shinn’s version is structured in a way that modern audiences will take more from. While the Shinn script may not have been a success on Broadway in 2009 (even with Mary Louise Parker), Marti Lyons’ revival strikes the right balance with it.

Ensemble member Annabel Armour as Aunt Tesman has the first lines and immediately sets the tone of the new Tesman home, a vibe that’s somewhere between charming and unsettling. Armour captures something both aspirational and pitiful about the character in her reliably masterful way. In this telling, Hedda, who is played by Aurora Real de Asua, is feral, almost manic. Her short temper is always shown through smiling teeth and far-off looks. Hedda here is more certain of feeling trapped in a bad marriage. It’s less of a revelation and more of a palpable sense of dread. The only female character that seems to threaten Hedda is Thea Elvsted played by Gloria Imseih Petrelli, whose raw vulnerability is a counter to Hedda’s rampant cruelty.

Greg Matthew Anderson plays the blackmailing judge Brack with such dastardly charm, it’s almost hard to see what Hedda objects to. In the same way Thea is the counter of Hedda, Ejlert Lovborg (Felipe Carrasco) is the helplessly vulnerable of the two men. Carrasco’s performance is also that of a condemned man. In other scripts, this acceptance comes at a more laborious price. Here his conflict with conventional society feels urgent from the start.

Remy Bumppo brings a lot of humor to “Hedda Gabler”. Hedda’s one-liners have always been amusing, in the same mean-spiritedness of an Albee play. Linda Gillum brings a lot of physical comedy as Berte, the Tesman’s quirky maid. Shinn’s script has a sharp sense of wit, even if the somewhat frank sexual metaphors seem closer to 2026 than 1891.

Along with a more forwardly grown-up script, Kotryna Hilko and Joe Schermoly’s costumes and sets are bathed in a moody purple and when paired with Christopher Kriz' electrifying incidental music brings on the feeling of an impending storm.

“Hedda Gabler” is a divisive play. You can either see her as a victim or a spoiled villain. Shinn makes that decision for you, in at-times clunky divulgences. This particular version might not find you quibbling over the character’s true wants or intentions. Instead, Shinn is cutting away the excess so audiences can focus on the powerful statement Ibsen was making before most women knew true autonomy.

Through March 8 at Remy Bumppo at Theatre Wit. 1229 W Belmont Ave. 773-975-8150

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

Holiday is a play written by Philip Barry in 1928 before the tragic stock market crash of 1929.  It has been made into two movies, most notably in 1938 starring Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. This adaptation, artfully authored by Richard Greenberg, has brought a case study in the class system and its relationship with money and assets is not only thought-provoking but clever.  The use of modern idioms mixed with classic patter delivery of movies of the thirties and forties keeps the audience rapt awaiting the next joke or witticism to land.  The direction by Robert Falls is a translation of reticence and underlying suppressed emotion of a family possessing generational wealth on the upper east side of New York City. Falls delivers Greenberg’s words in a manner so true that the piece has a voyeuristic tone.

The play opens in the main modernized parlor of a Manhattan mansion so beautifully appointed that audible gasps could be heard throughout the audience. The scenic design by Walt Spangler is so spot on in depicting “Old Money” right down to the mallard decoys on the mantel that it transports everyone into the Seton family fortunes.  Lighting designer Amith Chandrashaker’s work baths the Seton family like a beautifully seated family portrait.  When the curtains are parted to allow daylight to seep into the parlor, it makes one question what time they arrived at the theatre.  It is in this opening scene that we meet the Seton family and guests.  Julia Seton (played by Molly Griggs) the compliant entitled daughter and her new beau, Johnny Case played with great range by Luigi Sottile. Linda Seton, the defiant sibling seeking to change the world and identify with the residents and children of Red Hook played with just the right mixture of outrage and vulnerability by Bryce Gangel and Ned Seton (Wesley Taylor), the youngest namesake brother who has failed to measure up. And, the scion of the fortune, Edward Seton played with steely reserve by Jordan Lage who ensures “the equilibrium of the house is not disrupted” as one scene tells us.

The story unfolds as Julia is besotted with Johnny Case, a new beau met in a “spa”, and we watch her try to mold him into a man to join the family business after first making his own millions. Case ended up in the “spa” through an intervention by friends who realized he was working himself to misery. Being around the family and relations of Julia Johnny begins to reexamine his life’s purpose and path.  With a healthy dose of sarcasm from Linda and Ned we see wealth and privilege scoffed at as much as it is valued and revered by Julia.  Johnny is a ping pong ball in the family’s game of emotions and parlayed witticisms. We travel in time through a season of proposal and an engagement announcement to other reasons to celebrate. We visit the childhood traumas of a mother dying young of cancer with her dreams of being a prima ballerina dashed by Edward Seton and his insistence on the importance of an heir. Each child is a character study in the privilege and travails of the very wealthy.  Johnny Case, who is first viewed as a pawn in their family games goes through his own evolution and the realism of wealth, money and power. Wesley Taylor is the standout of a well guided and directed ensemble.  He plays Ned with such mirth, hilarity and tragic pain that one moment he has you laughing and the next on the verge of tears. Every scene he is in becomes pivotal.

The other unexpected “star” of this show is the scenic design and transition.  One moment you are in the parlor and then next act transported to the childhood nursery/playroom of memories styled by their mother.  It hardly seems possible but in almost a magical fable like scene change we end up in the parlor.  It’s a feat rarely seen on stage and every member of the design and stage management team needs to be aware that their contribution to this piece is pivotal, both literally and figuratively. The scenic design alone is a reason not to miss this show but go for the laughs and beautiful line delivery such as “Alexa stop the joy”.  Modern, relatable and beautifully delivered.

There’s nothing not to love about Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn but Robert Fall’s direction of these talents honor this beautifully written adaptation which is a mini-Holiday for anyone who attends.

HOLIDAY, now playing at the Goodman’s Albert Theatre in Chicago through March 1, 2026.

https://www.goodmantheatre.org for ticket and performance time information.

Mary Beth Euker is a founding director of Cricket Theatre Company in Lake Zurich, Illinois, has appeared in shows at Devonshire Theatre in Skokie and Woodstock Opera House and directs in Lake Zurich at various schools and for Cricket.

*UPDATE - Extended through March 8th

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

If you can imagine “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf” being played for laughs, you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s in store at Steppenwolf Theatre's production of “The Dance of Death.” Written in Swedish by August Strindberg in 1900, the remarkably comical show is loaded with laughs in Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s 2012 version presented here. Directed by Yasen Peyankov with truly wonderful scenic design by Collette Pollard, it is thoroughly enjoyable 125 years after its debut.

The action is set at a military installation on a Nordic island. We learn the island is a short ferry ride away from Copenhagen, but its exact location isn’t named. Here the military officer and his wife live alienated from their military colleagues, their servants, even from their children, subsumed as they are in a 25-year marital war between each other. 

Jeff Perry and Cliff Chamberlain

Steppenwolf’s production opens powerfully in a silent tableau: the soaring interior of a massive, tapering round granite tower more than three stories tall. With rows of arched windows across the second and third levels, the military fortification widens as it descends to a great drawing room on the main floor that runs the full width of the stage.

A late middle-aged officer in military garb sits stage left—the Captain (Jeff Perry). Gradually our attention is drawn to the figure of a woman, Alice (Kathryn Erbe) hair swirling up in piles Edwardian style, wearing a high-collared long sleeved dress, her full skirt grazing the floor. She stands contemplatively in silhouette against the lingering evening light, framed by a gothic French doorway.

This scene, so reminiscent of an Ingmar Bergman film, grounds us in the Nordic setting, but as soon as the characters Captain and Alice open their mouths, we encounter the casual American English that Irish playwright Conor McPherson has chosen for his scintillating version of Strindberg’s battle of the sexes.

Jeff Perry and Kathryn Erbe

Perry in particular shows his comedic chops, and Perry and Erbe together display that special stage mastery we associate with Steppenwolf. It was so fresh and funny that I set about reading Strindberg’s 1900 original. There I found that McPherson tracks it very closely. But oh how he sharpens the humor, heightens the dramatic line, and injects the venomous choreography that marks this couple’s intimacy. Dark it is, yes, but light also, and just plain funny. 

In the run up to their silver wedding anniversary, Alice and Captain express openly the regret they have over being shackled to each other. They charge each other with having dashed their dreams. Add to that another combustible—a difference in age and vitality. The Captain’s health is clearly unstable, while the younger Alice pants for emancipation by any means. Soon enough a third character arrives—the much younger Kurt (Cliff Chamberlain)—with whom both have a history.

Not having seen this pair for 15 years, Kurt arrives on assignment to the island on which this tower is situated. So we get to see in real time how Alice and the Captain each work their wiles on Kurt to lure him to their respective sides in the marital discord. In the course of this, Alice and the Captain are both revealed to be manipulative, unapologetic liars. At first the Captain seems to bond with Kurt, though its really more of an effort to manipulate him for allegiance. Soon enough Alice is ahead in the battle for Kurt’s affections. This is not really a love triangle, but much more an unstable atom ready to explode.

Alice claims to long for the Captain’s death—or a divorce or other legal means—to set herself free. With Kurt soon under her spell, Alice initiates communications with the Captain’s superiors that could see the Captain relieved of his command, and perhaps incarcerated. As that moment of truth arrives, the infatuation with Kurt withers, and we find the Captain and Alice really are in love, and love to hate each other. It’s at least part of what has made this marriage work!

Without question, McPherson improves on Strindberg, not only making the play accessible to audiences over a century later, but turning it into something immensely more entertaining. Humor is a fragile thing, and comedy is all in the timing of the delivery—the pauses, the quick breaks, the fast retort. McPherson has deftly heightened the impact of the core of Strindberg’s work, finding the key to the characters and dynamics much of which honestly I could not see in the original.

Early in a run, the director is still getting a bit of that timing nailed down, so by the time you see it it will be even funnier. But as it was, there are many, many moments that are over the top funny. Perry and Erbe are masterful in their deliveries, kind of shock and awe hilarious at moments. Chamberlain gives a full-throated energy to his performance as his character Kurt is driven to distraction when he finds himself sucked into the toxicity of the relationship.

“The Dance of Death” runs through March 22, 2026 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago, and comes highly recommended.

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

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As a longtime comedy fan, seeing a show at Second City has been on my bucket list for years, so when the opportunity to attend Black and Highly Flavored came up, I jumped at it. That excitement, however, was paired with some hesitation: I questioned whether I was the right person to review a show rooted in experiences I do not personally share. By the end of the night, after laughing until I cried, those concerns were completely put to rest.

At a time when diversity in comedy too often comes at the expense of BIPOC performers rather than celebrating their lived experiences, Black and Highly Flavored stands out as a rare gem. Now in its fourth year as Second City’s Black Excellence Revue, the show is a sharp and joyful two-act performance that blends sketch comedy, improv, music, and dance to uplift Black artists while remaining accessible, engaging, and enjoyable – and even relatable – for everyone in the audience.

Jam-packed from start to finish, this comedy show includes upwards of 20 sketches, ranging in length from a few minutes to as short as 15 seconds. The content of the skits is just as wide-ranging, pulling from everything from 70s laugh-track sitcoms to ChatGPT, and from John Steinbeck to Janet Jackson. With such varied material, it’s inevitable that not every joke lands with every audience member; however, the lightning-fast pacing of the show means that even if a joke doesn’t land for you, the show has already moved on to its next laugh.

Not only are the scripted parts of the show hilarious, but it also features improvisation at many points throughout the night. Black and Highly Flavored is particularly smart about how and where improv is incorporated, utilizing the famously divisive style of comedy to connect with the audience through tailored, rapid-fire one-liners, maintaining the polish of the longer, scripted skits.

Under the direction of Julia Morales, the six-person cast is stellar, and each actor truly brought their own distinct charm to the show. Tyler Vanduvall delivers off-the-charts physical comedy to the stage, throwing himself – sometimes literally – into every role, human or not. Kimberly Michelle Vaughn wears her heart on her sleeve on stage, exuding talent and joy, as she sings, dances, and laughs like no one is watching. Lauren Walker’s characterization is unmatched, making every one of her (many, many) roles just as animated and memorable as the last. EJ Cameron engages with the audience like no other, skyrocketing the intimacy of the show through his charisma alone. Jillian Banks is spunky and larger-than-life, adding both laughs and layers to any scene she’s in. Last, but certainly not least, is Jason Tolliver: the improv king of the night. Tolliver is sharply funny – and he knows it – allowing his genuine self-amusement to shine through on stage, making you laugh first at the joke, and then again at his reaction to himself.

Although not technically complicated, Black and Highly Flavored’s production was incredibly well planned and curated. Every lighting cue, sound effect, prop, and costume felt perfectly curated to the skit without overwhelming the show. The use of screens on stage was balanced well to be additive, rather than taking away from the joys of real-life theatre by being overbearing. The production from start to end was incredibly well-paced, void of any painful transitions or dead moments. This is undoubtedly a team effort but could not have been accomplished without Music Director and live musical performer Cesar Romero, who both beautifully and comedically underscored the whole evening. Add to that an in-your-seat food and drink menu, and Second City’s UP Comedy Club might just have it all!

Black and Highly Flavored is running at Second City’s UP Comedy Club on Thursdays and Fridays through March 20th. Tickets are available at www.secondcity.com/shows/chicago/the-second-city-black-excellence-revue-chi.