Items filtered by date: November 2007

A tragic Shakespearian tale of Romeo and Juliet set to the music of a Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev is brought to Chicago Harris theatre by The National Ballet Theatre of Odessa (Ukraine).

 A ballet in two acts, it starts out rather slow. Dancers are mostly standing around, and a sense of a theatre, rather than ballet, is conveyed. This low energy feel is not helped by the dull uniform-like color palette of the costumes and unexciting set decorations [of predominantly burgundy]. Luckily, the first scene features multiple quarrels between the servants, which escalate to a brawl, bringing some much-needed energy to the stage. We get our first look at lovely Juliet, who is most certainly the star of the show. 

Choreographed by Michael Lavrovsky, overall, Odessa’s Romeo and Juliet has a very traditional feel, full of reliable dance moves but not too many thrills for the Chicago Harris Theatre’s spoiled audience. Regardless, it does have some nice parts, all of them seemingly saved for the Second Act.

Alas, Act Two has a lot more sparkle. Events are set in motion, the pace is picked up and, to our delight, we get another major infusion of Romeo’s friend, red-headed Mercutio (danced by Nikolay Vorivodin), who is unquestionably the liveliest dancer of the troupe and, frankly, one of its most memorable. His spirited energy lights up every scene he’s in, and that’s a really good thing for this sleepy production. In his last performance he dances out a sword fight, churning out acrobatic- inspired moves, while remaining playfully graceful. Farewell, Mercutio, we’ll miss you.  

Odessa’s National Ballet Theatre features some very fine performers in Romeo and Juliet. Olga Vorobiova, who dances the part of Juliet, is absolutely outstanding. A world class ballerina, she is gracefully fluid and highly expressive. Her partner Stanislav Skrynnik (Romeo) is a very capable dancer, perfectly executing his role in the ballet as a support for Vorobiova during the couple’s love scenes. One of the most impressive scenes in the ballet is Romeo and Juliet last embrace; it’s absolutely gorgeous. Ahh, Romeo and Juliet, fused together in an expression of love and devotion; it brings tears to one’s eyes.

Encounter, running tonight through January 25, is the product of Collaboraction Theater’s role as Theater in Residence at Kennedy-King College. It takes place in the lovely and modern wood-paneled theater space at Kennedy-King’s campus at 63rd and Halsted Street.

It is sometimes said that theater is a community having a conversation with itself, and for many of us folks outside the Southside Englewood community, Encounter: Being, Becoming provides a golden moment to hear and to see that conversation.

The cast features both high profile stars and rising actors from across Chicago stages, films and television. First up opening night was Leida “Lady Sol” Garcia, who is the choreographer that brought Chicago’s hip-hop dance steps and performers to global stars like Madonna and Missy Elliot.

Her compelling and lively autobiographic performance, Lady Sol’s Dance Diary, Vol. 1., is directed by Sandra written and performed by Leida "Lady Sol" Garcia and directed by Sandra Delgado. Tracing her time from protege of Lauryn Hill whom she met while promoting the Fugees for Columbia Records. series of vignettes from Garcia’s life, with supporting dancers Cari Bermudez and Sydney Jackson, traces her brushes with fame, and her encounter with mental illness.

Another big name is Sir Taylor, who shares his life story in Inspire: Breath Life, starting from growing up in Cabrini-Green and the struggles he faced and overcame. Taylor became a founding member of the Jesse White Tumblers, which led him to compete as an Olympic gymnast for the U.S., and brought him around the world. A stop in Africa put Sir Taylor in touch with his roots and set him on path to community activist, mentor and leader of The Example Setters. The drumming scenes set in Africa were particularly dynamic, and Sir Taylor is a powerful presence on stage.

The Becoming program includes four original works by Chicago dramatists, which are captivating stories you will want to hear (I’m heading back to see them too):

Englewood: A Love Story, directed by Reginald Edmund, is a love letter to the past, present and future of Englewood, a blend of history and true stories from actual residents in the community.

Lift Every Voice: Written by G. Riley Mills and Willie Round, and directed by Rory Jobst. When a racist Snapchat makes its way around a high school its students are left to grapple with their own history, biases and privilege in order to maintain their relationships.

F.O.P., Written by Miranda Gonzalez and directed by Juan Castenada, after the birth of their child, two Chicago police officers and partners, Josh and Lala, are the victims of racial harassment at the hands of their fellow officers.

SANKOFA, written by Antwon Funches, directed by Tatyana Chante, it is set in the 19th century American South, and follows the climactic escape of an enslaved mother and daughter.

Encounter is curated through a combination of open and invited submissions from emerging and established artists throughout the city. Every performance is followed by a Crucial Conversation where the audience is welcomed to share their thoughts and lived experiences as they connect with the work. While the goal series serves to engage the Chicago community in discussion on issues of equity and inclusion, incite knowledge and grow empathy that leads to action and lasting change – the experience is far more fun, and a wonderful display of performance passion at a place many Chicagoans might overlook. Learn more and buy tickets at Collaboration/Encounter.com https://www.collaboraction.org/encounter

So, I went into Once on This Island, currently playing at the Cadillac Palace Theatre, knowing nothing of the show at all. Nothing. The above title, I took that from one of the songs that’s still stuck in my head — “Some Girls,” sung beautifully in this production by Tyler Hardwick’s Daniel.

But it’s the sentiment of that song, that some girls (or some things, like Broadway musicals, perhaps) are extraordinary, special, better than the status quo. As this production began, I wouldn’t have guess that it would take its place in the really good shows I’ve seen, or the really good ones I’ve had the privilege to review. But you know what? By the end of the show, it had.

You see (and my 16-year-old daughter, a theater geek in her own right, agreed with me as soon as the houselights went on), this show’s a grower. Before it began, the set held promise — audience members seated on either side of the stage itself, various sand and detritus hinting at the Caribbean island setting to come, what seemed to be cast members milling about.

But, just as 2018’s Auditorium Theatre touring production of The Color Purple found a stripped-down production overwhelmed by a cavernous locale, this production at first seemed to be swallowed up by the size of the Cadillac. The set was spread out over the stage, sure, but the sound was muddled and devoured by the site. This problem seemed to get better as the show went on — I’m not sure if my ears just adjusted or if the cast did the adjusting.

Or maybe it’s that, as I said, the show’s a grower. Because the cast and the songs they sang seemed to get better as it went on. A show that had my daughter’s head nodding to stay awake at first later found it nodding along to the story and the tunes. This being a one-act performance, the lack of an intermission worked wonders, not allowing the booze-and-bathroom break to kill the slow-building momentum. And build it did.

The story’s your standard girl-meets-boy-but-stuff-gets-in-the-way sort of plot that Disney’s mined for decades. And this story would totally fit into the Disney Princess pantheon if Disney’s ever looking to head to the Caribbean for anything other than Johnny Depp in a pirate getup. Told as the story (to a young cast member and the audience members seated on the stage’s edges) of an orphaned and impoverished island girl (Ti Moune played by Courtnee Carter) who falls in love with a rich boy (the afore-mentioned Daniel, played by the talented Hardwick), the best parts go to the supernatural characters who populate the fairy tale.

Kyle Ramar Freeman lords over the stage whenever he’s on it as Asaka, Mother of the Earth. Jahmaul Bakare isn’t far behind with his water god. Just as the land of Oz’s Glinda is overshadowed by the cool costumes and witchcraft of her more wicked counterparts, Cassondra James’ love goddess Erzulie isn’t as much fun as the other deities, though James’ voice and presence make up for what her character lacks. But throughout the show, I was enchanted by the fourth god, Papa Ge, the demon of death. The actress who played Papa Ge was done up all ratty and punk-rock, but her physicality and beauty and presence were evident, not to mention her musical chops. Only afterward did I look in the playbill and learn that this Papa Ge’s played by Tamyra Gray, my all-time favorite television singing competition entrant (she was on the very first season of American Idol, back when Kelly Clarkson won, back before my teenage date for this show was even born). Needless to say, even if she’s playing a hellish harvester of souls, Tamyra’s still got my heart!

And, it seemed, by the end of the show, the cast and the story they told and the songs that they sang had won over the hearts of the audience, too. The songs had gotten better, the sound had settled down, and the actors and singers had warmed up and settled in, giving the Cadillac Palace’s audience a good time, which I’m sure they’ll keep on doing in this production Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty’s Once on This Island, playing now through February 2.

Not often drawn to live orchestral music, Undertale LIVE was an exception. Fifth House Ensemble and AWR Music produced the world premier of this remarkable presentation January 11 at the ornate 700-seat Studebaker Theater. Similar to a movie shown with live orchestra accompanying, Undertale LIVE is a 90-minute performance by the 12-piece ensemble played below a screen on which a playthrough of the game was shown. The performance was flawless.

Released in 2015, Undertale looks for all the world like a primitive,16-bit generic fantasy video game, styled in the design of games released in the 1980s. But that look and the apparent simplicity are deceiving, and its intoxicating emotional depths have won it millions of fans.

Undertale, the game was developed by Toby Fox, who is also a self-taught musician. Its score, which was inspired by classic role-playing games, has won a number of awards, and critics say it is key to the game’s success.

For Undertale LIVE, Fox and Fifth House Ensemble artistic director Dan Visconti elaborated on the original game’s largely digital and technically constrained soundtrack. Adapted for a 12 piece orchestra for this performance, it featured new arrangements with percussion and electronics by music director Eric Roth with Chris Opperman. Featuring piano, bassoon, base, cello, violin, viola, flute, bassoon, drums, french horn, piccolo, and clarinet, along with the more primitive digital sounds of the game, the music stylistically combines thematic moments of caring with a quirky sense of humor. The musicians, wearing the game's signature Red Heart and whose backs were to the screen, played with a fervor that suggested they, too, were lovers of Undertale.

Exploring a secret world of monsters and adventure, Undertale the game is unique among role playing games, since it gives players the option to spare monsters - who have names like Metaton and Asriel - rather than just "kill everything." This gentler affect encourages players to empathize with those most unlike themselves. The game’s story and outcome are based entirely on the player’s choices.

In faithfulness to the game, the Undertale LIVE concert version gives the audience the opportunity to choose as well. Using their cellphones, the audience texts in a vote at eight or more points on whether to “Fight” or offer “Mercy.” A chipper “thanks for voting, human” is returned each time to your phone.

The group experience is one thing that makes Undertale LIVE so winning (though it is most engaging for its gamer fans ). As the various non-player characters from the game appear on the screen, the audience cheered in welcome. But it is the music that works for someone naïve to the game world.

"For me, part of the charm of classic ‘video game music,’ with its simple-sounding instruments and strong melodies, is that it leaves a space for the listener's imagination,” says Fox. “The simplicity becomes a blank canvas from which people can draw out more complicated or colorful arrangements.” Fox say he wanted a "more eclectic combination of instruments than a typical concert, so I believe it will be a really memorable experience in all respects.” Following last weekends two performances, a touring production of the concert is in the works by Fifth House Ensemble. https://undertalelive.com/

In the action in the game and in Undertale LIVE onstage, the player kills monsters to gain EXP and LV in order to progress. As we delve deeper into Undertale's plot we begin to realize that it's an analysis of what gamers take to be basic truths in games, and what anyone might recognize as a basic truth in life. Both become more challenging if we attempt them with the conventional game mindset of “kill or be killed.” (as is expressed by the NPC "Flowey" in the first few minutes of the game). Undertale becomes more rewarding for players who approach it in a more cooperative way.

While the nuance of the Undertale game plot is harder to pick up if you haven't been steeped in the culture of video games, the core message is something anyone can appreciate: regardless of how they may look, the “other” isn't inherently bad, even though our preconceptions may tell us so. If we take the time to try and understand them, they may surprise us and become some of our favorite people. In a fantasy world full of monsters, it is a human message that is perceivable by all. 

On stage in Undertale LIVE, fans get to share their personal experience of the game with newcomers in the wider world. through an interactive show, high quality production, and a beautifully orchestrated score. Underale LIVE is a fantastic show for gamers, for people interested in musical innovation, and for anyone who enjoys an enriching live performance. Learn more at https://undertalelive.com/

With their usual care and commitment, Black Button Eyes Productions is introducing ‘Whisper House’, a musical ghost story about loss, love and not giving up, to Chicago. The premise is promising. A young boy loses his Airman father in the Pacific during WWII, a loss that his mother cannot handle. He is sent to live with his aunt Lily in a lighthouse in Maine that she tends with the assistance of a Japanese immigrant who somehow got stranded there on his way to find his future. There’s a law-and-order sheriff who may have feelings for Lily. Or not. And there are the tunefully malignant and omnipresent ghosts, who frequently opine that everyone would be better off dead. The pedigree of the musical is impressive, with music and lyrics by Duncan Sheik of Spring Awakening fame and book and additional lyrics by Kyle Jarrow (‘Spongebob Squarepants Musical’). Unfortunately, the plot is predictable, the music bland, and the ghostly sirens quickly grow tiresome—why they want everyone to be miserable or dead is not entirely clear. It is thanks to director Ed Rutherford’s well-paced and elegant staging, and the sincerity of the talented cast, that ‘Whisper House’ is an engaging and ultimately moving love story. Though the resolution, when it comes, is wholly anticipated (except for those Ghosts, whose denouement surprises even them, as the lyrics acknowledge), it is surprisingly affecting. ‘Whisper House’ as a musical is a mess—it feels incomplete and prosaic, like the suspended ambitions of its characters—but the strong Black Button Eyes ensemble reveals the heart that no doubt drew them to this imperfect rumination on the need for love and the ways that humans push it away.

Most of the problems with ‘Whisper House’ stem from the musical’s transparently thin plot and mostly forgettable (with the occasional catchy hook) score. The trite lyrics channel pop psychology via Edward Gorey. The narrative conveniently brings together characters who are bound to mistrust one another: Christopher is sent to the last place on Earth he wants to be to live with an aunt he never met after the death of his father in a firefight with Japanese pilots. A Japanese caretaker helps Lily with household chores she cannot easily do (because of her limp), as well as offering companionship. Also looking in periodically is Charles, a flag-waving law enforcement officer. Christopher is immediately distrustful of Yasuhiro and the rabidly nationalistic Charles is just looking for a reason to get rid of him. Lily is haunted both literally and figuratively by the memory of a yacht that sank 20 years earlier, leading her to mistrust herself even when her instincts are sound. The stage is set for a claustrophobic clash of characters and cultures. And then, there are the ghosts of two stylish drowning victims. It’s hard to tell whether the creators wanted the ghosts to serve as metaphors for the living characters’ hurtful instincts or as actual characters. To the credit of director Ed Rutherford and his team of collaborators, he is able to keep a hold on the humanity of the characters and the genuine good will of the plot to deliver a slight, but entertainingly moving yarn. Rutherford could have done more to flesh out purpose and through-line for the ghostly narrators, and, despite a valiant effort by the design team, the smallish stage makes it difficult to portray multiple locations, including the ocean and an adjoining lighthouse, while also accommodating an onstage backing band. However, the care that was invested in the staging ultimately pays off. Set designer Nikolaj Sorensen focuses on the kitchen of the lighthouse and keeps the space open enough to convey the other locations, albeit with efficient but clunky scene changes (which the occasionally corporeal and accommodating ghosts incorporate into Derek Van Barham’s 1920’s-inspired choreography). With the addition of the color-saturated lighting design of Liz Cooper, nifty period props by Adrian Hadlock, and creaky-spooky sound effects by Robert Hornbostel, the design team effectively creates the gloomy, desolate backdrop the story requires. Costume designer Rachel M. Sypniewski further adds to the effect, with simple, drab costumes for the humans who have no one to dress for (except for the Sheriff, whose uniform is his mask) and stylish Jazz Age formal wear for the ghosts, though, in keeping with their tragic fate, they dress in funereal white and black. Much credit also goes to musical director/conductor/musician Micky York and the other members of the six-piece ensemble, who create a spectrum of musical backdrops for the narrative and generally maintain the right balance with the vocals—not easy in a space of this size and configuration.

At the outset, we are introduced to the characters that in the ghosts believe would be better off dead. The guilt-ridden Christopher wants to care for his mother as he promised but is instead sent to stay with his father’s estranged sister. Leo Spiegel impressively captures Christopher’s grief, outrage and sense of powerlessness, though he does seem to take the omnipresence of ghosts in the lighthouse too much in stride (if ghosts told me I should be afraid, I would take their advice). Kate Nawrocki is the show’s anchor as Christopher’s aunt, who requests that he avoid addressing her as Ma’am or Aunt, insisting on Miss Lily. Pragmatic to the point of being cold, Nawrocki’s Lily nevertheless allows a sly sense of humor and genuine compassion to temper her bone-dry delivery. The growing connection between Spiegel’s needy and impudent Christopher and Nawrocki’s equally needy and uncompromising Lily is a high point in the show. Also living on the lighthouse property is Yasuhiro, who has forged a quiet but strong camaraderie with Lily. It is clear from the start that Lily and Yasuhiro share a bond, but misgivings about their different backgrounds, coupled with ghostly interference and the implementation of Executive Order 9066, keep them from acknowledging this. Karmann Bajuyo fortunately sidesteps the potential for melodrama in his character, offering a quietly self-deprecating and warmly humorous portrayal that provides a softer counterpoint to the flinty Lily. As Charles, the local sheriff who fully embraces the jingoistic and xenophobic patriotism that characterized some of America’s home front response to WWII, T.J. Anderson is cast against type. Lacking the hulking physical presence that one would expect of this stereotypical bully, Anderson tries to create a more complex character than the writing can support, coming across as a nice guy hiding behind toxic attitudes and braggadocio. This attempt at depth throws too much light on the two-dimensional writing and makes one wish for a more conventional bad guy. Anderson’s Charles also is no match for either Lily or Yasuhiro, which means he must rely solely on his badge and gun to intimidate (which violence designer Brendan Hutt wisely acknowledges when Charles’ racism inevitably—and unnecessarily—leads to violence). Mikaela Sullivan and Kevin Webb, as the waterlogged victims of 20-year-old shipwreck, play their roles with macabre relish. They have the voices and musical acumen to move easily through the various pop genres of the score, and beguilingly address both audience and the living characters they torment. Despite thoroughly enjoyable performances, one is still left wondering exactly what these two ghosts need or want (the reason given for their presence does not adequately explain their behavior): revenge? connection? company? all of the above? With these questions left unanswered, it can be occasionally frustrating to watch the spirits alternately charm, comfort, frighten, and belittle the living, often magnifying their most self-destructive musings.

This ghost story would be better off without its ghosts (despite charming and tuneful portrayals by Mikaela Sullivan and Kevin Webb), who mostly meddle in the living characters’ lives by amplifying their fears, misjudgments and self-doubts. They don’t need ghosts to do that for them. And, as much of the musical portion of the musical belongs to the ghostly interlopers, the predictable but ultimately moving story of a family thrown together by blood and circumstance is nearly drowned out by synth-pop hauntings. The balance is so off that it seems touch and go whether the excellent ensemble—with Kate Nawrocki, Karmann Bayuyo and Leo Spiegel as reluctant allies who need to learn trust at its heart—can land the emotional cargo. They do, and there is no denying that this is a good time for a reminder that compassion, and love can heal both a wounded heart and a wounded world. ‘Whisper House’ is decidedly not great theater, but as a musical curiosity it is mostly innocuous and entertaining, and Ed Rutherford’s cast ensures surely propels the plot to a satisfying and emotional conclusion, though a true resolution does not materialize. 

‘Whisper House’ runs through February 15 at the Athenaeum Theatre, 2936 N. Southport Avenue, Chicago. Tickets are available at athenaeumtheatre.org, by calling (773)935-6875 or in person at the Athenaeum Theatre Box Office.

*Now extended through February 16th due to popular demand

“Lenny Bruce was the defender of all people. Notorious from his belief that people give words power. It’s not the words itself, but the intention,” says playwright and performer Ronnie Marmo in the show’s playbill - A Note from the Playwright titled “Why Lenny Bruce? Why Now?”

‘I’m not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce’ should be one of the hottest shows in Chicago this Fall. Coming hot off a sold-out Los Angeles run, the story of one of the most controversial, yet influential comedians, Lenny Bruce, comes to the Royal George Cabaret Theatre. Directed by legendary actor Joe Mantegna and produced by Lenny Bruce’s daughter, Kitty Bruce, we get a production that is hard-hitting, hilarious and flat out ballsy.

Ronnie Marmo as Lenny Bruce is a powerful force to be reckoned with and his deliciously vivid script couldn’t be performed any better. I’d be hard-pressed to say which is more impressive, Marmo’s dark, daring and funny script or his acting prowess as the controversial 1960’s comic. Let’s just say the two fit perfectly together to give audience members a thrill ride that doesn’t let you go.

‘I’m not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce’ puts Bruce onstage in a stand-up atmosphere where he delivers intimate stories that shaped his life and beliefs – some tragic, some humorous and some heartwarming. He was close to his mother, revered his life love Honey and loved his daughter to no end. He was often arrested for his words. He fought drug addiction – and lost. Marmo as Bruce also becomes the vessel for the fearless and outspoken comedian who tells it like he sees it, often using obscenities and rants about the same topics that are touchy in today’s world – fifty years later – such as racism, government aid, religion, the criminal justice system, gender inequality, etc., etc., but probably most of all censorship. An unwavering advocate for the First Amendment, Bruce vehemently preaches the dangers of losing the right to free speech, often musing the crowd with stories of arrests and harassment by authorities for simply saying words not everyone wanted to hear.

“I disapprove of what you say, but will defend to the death your right to say it.” Evelyn Beatrice Hall (a.k.a. S. G. Tallentyre) wrote in 1906’s The Friends of Voltaire. This quote epitomized Bruce’s beliefs.

Since Bruce, many comedians have followed in his footsteps, often citing him as their greatest influence, such as Richard Pryor, George Carlin and more recently Sarah Silverman and Bill Maher, the latter very outspoken about the censorship put in place by tech communication giants Twitter and YouTube. It is without doubt, Lenny Bruce would cringe at what has been happening over the past few years where some comedians are not allowed to perform on certain college campuses or where “disagreeing” is often quickly labeled a hate incitement and therefore censored no matter your political stance, religious views or assessments on life. Silence opinions - delete instead of discuss.

The perception of recent fragility wafting in the air where people get overly offended at very little or seemingly nothing these days (words over intention) has been a huge talking point for comedians like Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock and David Chapelle (to name a very small few) to the point some might wonder if someone like Bruce could have survived today’s social climate. But, as a betting man, I’m sure Lenny Bruce would still be knocking down walls and fighting to his last breath to exercise the right of free speech.

Ronnie Marmo’s play has come at just the right time at its relevancy in today’s world couldn’t be timelier. Marmo makes his point on the importance of free speech to perfection in this powerful production while also delivering an engaging, inside look at someone who changed the landscape for comedy as we knew it.

Comedy great Richard Lewis says of Marmo’s performance, “Lenny’s life pours out of him,” while Kitty Bruce goes a step further by calling it, “The best portrayal of my father I have ever seen. Brilliant.”

Compelling, inspiring and thought-provoking, ‘I’m not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce’ is highly recommended.

‘I’m not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce’ is being performed at the Royal George Cabaret Theatre through December 1st. For more information visit LennyBruceOnStage.com.

*Extended through February 16th 2020

Dance Nation is the story of a school dance team of thirteen-year-olds. The concept may seem to have dubious appeal, but Dance Nation quickly sinks its teeth into our attention with its opening scene.

Director and choreographer Lee Sunday Evans has put the students in sailor suits, and they rigidly perform a very well-rehearsed but uninspired tap dance number, moving just awkwardly enough through its limited steps and gestures to reveal that they are adolescents.

With that admirable bit of stagecraft by director Evans, the script by Clare Barron comes to life, firmly establishing the players (the actors range in age from their 20s to 60-something) as a believable band of pre-pubescent girls, with one like-aged boy, Luke. Kudos to these actors.

The play itself is strong, compelling enough to merit a Drama Desk Ensemble Award and an Obie Awards Special Citation this year. And it was a Pulitzer finalist. 

Anyone who has been involved with competitive middle school regional, state and national  competitions – soccer, Little League, debate team, what have you – will recognize the frenzied energy that students and faculty put toward winning. In the case of Dance Nation, the strangely imagined choreography and dance storylines are developed and directed by the dance team leader, Teacher Pat (Tim Hopper). 

The dynamic emotional lives of these students is the heart of the play. Audrey Francis is Vanessa; Caroline Neff is Zuzu; Karen Rodriguez plays Amina; Ariana Burkes is Sofia; Adithi Chandrashekar is Connie; Ellen Maddow is Maeve; and Shanesia Davis is Ashlee. Torrey Hansen is Luke. It’s a hoot to see these actors of all ages capture the physical style and the angst of these adolescents. And they do it so well!

Barron gives us, in Teacher Pat, something familiar: a bit of a tyrant, who is as at once capricious, manipulative and authoritarian. Teacher Pat is not imaginative perhaps, but he is filled with conviction and certainty in his beliefs.

Teacher Pat comes and goes on stage. Most of the time is focused on the student interactions. But when he is there, sometimes it's quite harmful, as when he tries to dissuade Zuzu from quitting the dance team telling her that she will ruin her chances of ever pursuing dance again.

We also see the appearance of some of the mothers of the students, who Barron captures perfectly in these fleeting scenes. Some mothers are amazingly nurturant, wise, supportive, while one in particular - Zuzu's mother - has an unhealthy and neurotic emotional enmeshment with her daughter. 

Teacher Pat drives the students forward for the upcoming national competition in Tampa, that they will win in dramatic stages through two smaller regional competitions before getting to the nationals. Aiming to get them fired up about the dance show he will soon reveal, Teacher Pat turns it on:

“Let’s give them something to tell them there is a revolution coming out of Liverpool Indiana!” he says. (Hopper delivers the line so perfectly, appending Indiana after just a beat.) The show that will spark this revolution is overwrought and cockamamie.  

The students struggle through insecurities, personal issues, and the competitive challenges - but are generally bonded as a mutually supportive group. Barron also affords those flashes in scenes in which we can see laid out before us the promise of a young person who is destined to achieve great things in life. 

Dance Nation runs through February 2, 2020 at Steppenwolf Theatre. Don't miss it!

Touring illusion show of five ‘Champions of Magic’ is playing at the Harris Theater for Music and Dance in Chicago, and it is a spectacle to behold. A well-rounded performance, it includes a duo act of British grand illusionists Richard Young and Sam Strange, British mentalist Alex McAleer, American close up magician Kayla Drescher, and Mexican-born escape artist Fernando Velasco. 

Opening the first act is Alex McAleer, who is as charming as he is capable of effortlessly guess your deepest secrets (or at least the name of your childhood friend). Mindreading is one of the most fascinating kinds of magic, as it doesn’t require any props and relies solely on manipulation techniques such as psychics and hypnotists use. I haven’t a clue how he does it, but still spend some time watching him very closely, which, of course, proves a waste of time, because McAleer is a very gifted mentalist and a remarkable showman. 

Kayla Drescher is a cheerful close-up magic performer, who has won multiple awards, including the Society of American Magician’s Presidential Citation and being voted “Magician of the Year”. Her cards act is very intimate, perhaps too intimate for such a large Theater. Though well executed, the cameraman’s presence just a few feet away (in order to project her act on the big screen for the audience to see) feels just a bit distracting. Drescher really shines when engaging the audience members, volunteering someone up on stage with an unassuming charm and then wowing the audience with her brand of [card] magic.

The most spectacular act belongs to Young and Strange. The comedic duo has gotten many tricks up their sleeves: some new, some old. Watching their performance took me back to my childhood, to when circus came to town and everyone went to see a famous illusionist. I was delighted to watch some of my old favorites, like, an assistant being cut in half and then put back together again. I mean, common, it’s a classic and should never go away! But Young and Strange dazzle with many of their original acts as well; they’re highly entertaining performers. 

‘Champions of Magic’ would not be complete without an impressive young escape artist Fernando Velasco’s act; at just 21 years old he is already the world’s youngest to perform magic’s most dangerous illusion, the Houdini Water Torture Cell. Though it’s slightly less spectacular due to the fact that the glass water chamber had become covered with fabric slightly too long, it’s nevertheless very well done. Velasco is a fearless performer, and undoubtedly has a bright future.

Overall, ‘Champions of Magic’ is a wonderful magic show featuring all of the stage magic’s various fields – recommended!

Through December 29th at Harris Theater for Music and Dance.

Epic tragedy shapes a society. For Chicagoans, there were the Great Fire of 1871 (300 dead, 100,000 homeless), and the 1915 SS Eastland sinking (844 died). Less remembered is the Iroquois Theater, which burned to the ground in 1903. The conflagration killed 602 people, and changed fire safety practices in theaters everywhere.
Just over a month after its grand opening run, on December 30, 1903, the Iroquois Theater was destroyed when an arc light ignited a muslin curtain. (That site is now the home of the Nederlander Theatre, the restored Oriental movie palace.)

The Ruffians theater troupe recounts this tale – seminal to Chicago’s theater communit -  in Burning Bluebeard, in a truly inspired production. The performance incorporates dance, music, mime, acrobatics, in a that evokes the atmospheric gymnastics of Cirque de Soleil, or perhaps even more the defunct Red Moon Theater for those who remember it). Let’s say from the start Burning Bluebeard is entrancing, mesmerizing, and something not to be missed.

The Ruffians have been serving up this unusual holiday fare since 2011, when it was originated with the support of the NeoFuturists Theater. This year Porchlight Music Theatre has placed the show on its stage at the Ruth Page Center (1016 N. Dearborn), supplying plenty of seating for the growing cult following Burning Bluebeard has garnered.

Burning Bluebeard retells the story of the fire from the point of view of cast and crew who survived it – all but one escaped - in a mash-up with scenes adapted from the original Mr. Bluebeard on stage at t he time. In so doing, playwright Jay Torrance (who also plays stage manager Robert Murray) and director Halena Kays provide us a sampling of antique theatrical techniques and practices from the period. Choreographic by Ariel Etana Triunfo is exquisite, and scenic design by Doug Kmiec is wonderful.

The show opens with body bags on the smoldering ruins of the stage, the actors emerging in tattered costumes, and launch into the story – reminding the audience they are playing the role of the original audience – more than a third of whom died. This provocative tease (though it goes on a little too long, giving us multiple false starts)
Running 100 minutes with no intermission, the characters are drawn from real people like stage manager Murray, and Chicago vaudeville comedian Eddie Foy (Ryan Walters), who was in the road show production, and earned acclaim in the disaster for helping keep the audience calm.

Most entertaining is Pamela Chermansky as the Fancy Clown, who plays through various vignettes and comic scenes, then periodically steps out of the clown character to comment as a “master thespian” on the production of Mr. Bluebeard.

“History knew better than the playwright, better than any of us, that it wasn’t any good,” she declaims haughtily. Ticket sales were slow, so the producers kept adding scenes, songs, and production embellishments, which also added fuel for the fire. Objecting to revisions in one of her scene, Fancy Clown ironically tells them to go ahead, “Unless you are bored with petty things, like artistry, and craft!” her a voice dripping with disdain.

At the other end of the spectrum is stage manager Robert Murray (Jay Torrance), who is all about the technical mechanics of the show, and knows this production is a dog. He also provides the specific details regarding locked safety doors, incomplete fire escapes, a burning fire curtain, and hemp-filled seating that magnified the effects of the tragedy.

A realistic touch from from the pantomime style of Mr. Bluebeard is the inclusion of The Fairie Queen, with Crosby Sandoval giving an absolutely arresting performance. In a worn white lace and organdy frock, the hairy chested, mustachioed Sandoval delivers engimatic utterances muffled through a tin can hanging on a string around his neck. (Notes in the progam let us know cross dressing, fairie queens, and purely silent scenic interludes were all part of the pantomime theatrical style.) 

Adding to the woe, the day of the Iroquois Theater tragedy was the show’s first sell out in the 1,650 see theater, with scores more packed in, the overflow filling standing room and even seating themselves in the stairway aisles of the upper balconies.

The mayor shuttered all the theaters in town while the fire was investigated. Afterward emerged building code changes like mandatory exit lights, improved fire proofing and readily accessible fire escapes – and other changes that are now the norm in all public spaces.

Burning Bluebeard runs through December 27 at the Ruth Page Center in Chicago, and is highly recommended.

While I’m familiar with Studs Terkel’s oral of history of workers, titled of course ‘Working’, I came into opening night of Theo Ubique’s production of Stephen Schwartz’s musical adaptation completely ignorant of its content, its music, any of it. I didn’t know Schwartz had originally written and staged it in the late 70s. I didn’t know it featured music by a 70s icon, James Taylor. And I didn’t know it had been refreshed in the past decade with tunes by a more modern musical icon, Lin Manuel Miranda. Sometimes it’s nice to come into a show blissfully ignorant; doing so gives you those rare moments of surprise that come in adulthood.

So, I was surprised by much of it. I was surprised by the musical numbers. And I was surprised by the unevenness of this Broadway giant’s work here. But I was not at all surprised by the enthusiasm and talent on display by the cast assembled at this great little treasure of a theater where Chicago and Evanston meet near the Howard station (its name proudly part of the tasteful set).

The musical numbers were a lot of fun — 70s Broadway stuff since, as I now know, this is 70s Broadway stuff. Musical director and keyboardist Jeremy Ramey (who killed it earlier this year in the same roles for Theo Ubique’s killer Hedwig) has maybe the best time of anyone in the house, channeling his love of music and love of this music through his fingers and his constant movement. His band, featuring Hedwig’s Perry Cowdery on guitar and Carlos Mendoza on drums, as well as Rafe Bradford on bass, are in lockstep the whole way, complementing both the cast and the score.

A couple members of said cast really show off their musical talent here, too. Stephen Blu Allen, who I’d yet to see perform, impressed with his overall talent. Maybe the youngest member of the cast, he moved like a veteran and sang like one, too, possessing a smooth voice that worked as well as a lead instrument as it did when hitting just the right harmonies when accompanying his castmates. The presence of Cynthia F. Carter, who’s quickly become one of my favorite local actors and singers (having seen her shine in the Black Ensemble Theater’s tributes to Mahalia Jackson and Chuck Berry), assured me upon seeing her name in the playbill that I was in good hands. And wouldn’t you know it — I was in the steady and experienced hands of both her stewardess and her streetwalker, and blown away by her cleaning woman’s closing number, “If I Could Have Been.”

And that number’s where I’ll list my gripe — only one gripe, really — a gripe not with the players, but with the piece itself. The show could’ve ended right there, with Carter’s number as the closer. But it kept going and kept preaching. When Schwartz lets the characters and their lives do the talking, ‘Working’ works. But when he tries to sum up what the workers have said, wrapping it up all tidy-like and preaching to the audience, it gets, well, a bit preachy. Any audience deserves the playwright’s respect, especially an audience there to see an adaptation of a book by Studs Terkel. They don’t — we don’t — need to be told what to think. We just need a work that’ll make us think, whatever that thinking might be and wherever that thinking might lead.

In ‘Working’’s first half, there’s more of that preaching going on. A schoolteacher played by Loretta Rezos preaches at us with all the stereotyped gripes about kids these days (especially those in neighborhoods where schoolteachers might be especially harried) — knives and drugs and Ritalin, but no respect and no grasp of the English language (except as a second language). Michael Kingston’s moneymaking and money-worshiping businessman is more of the same — a stereotype of money and business without anything new to say about it. But in the second half, both Rezos and Kingston get characters with more to do and thus more to say. Rezos’ restaurant worker gets perhaps my favorite number, turning the work of waiting tables into an art. And Kingston’s “Joe” brings the feels without the heavy-handed attempts to get them as his elderly titular character monologues about watching housefires and long-ago waltzes and old Sunday drunks with cash hidden in their socks.

I can’t forget the last two members of this talented cast, all of whom play multiple characters. Jared David Michael Grant is the show’s heart, as a long-haul trucker, as a laid-off worker, and especially as the fireman at one of those housefires Joe spends his retirement chasing. The firefighter’s soliloquy, not just about the work of first responders but about the world they respond to, was every bit as meaningful as it must’ve been when Terkel and Schwartz encountered it over forty years ago. And Kiersten Frumkin is sort of the cast’s utility worker — in a play about such folks — nimbly playing a millworker, a lot lizard, a housewife, and more. It’s her last worker, a woman proudly watching the child she’s raising grow, that’s her best, and features a beautiful duet with Allen’s nursing home worker.

So, while the play itself is far from perfect, it gets better after intermission. And while the play itself is far from perfect, its cast perfectly plays the many roles they’re asked to play. And, isn’t an imperfect what workers and their worlds are? As Allen’s southside community organizer says late in ‘Working’, “history is made up of a lot of little people,” and ‘Working’ gives all of those little people a voice and a stage to tell their messy, imperfect, and real stories of ‘Working’ and of life, now through January 26 at what’s become one of my favorite spots, Theo Ubique on Howard in Evanston.