Items filtered by date: November 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family. Community.

Eloquent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phone rings, door chimes, in comes Company! The new, gender-swapped revival, that is.

Known more for his fully scored, more epic musicals like Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods, Stephen Sondheim packs a big punch in this unconventional little musical about the dichotomy between single and married life — and it’s as fresh and funny in the 2020s as it was when it premiered in 1970.

Company is hilarious and moving in equal measure. It’s human and messy, yet gloriously refined through Sondheim’s music, lyrics, and storytelling.

Arguably the first musical surrounding a concept instead of a plot, Company opens a Pandora’s box exploring all the trade-offs between being married and being single. The songs and scenes detail the pros and cons of both marriage and bachelorhood, with everything tied together and grounded through the character of Bobbi — played with charisma and vulernability by Britney Coleman — the lone bachelorette in a sea of partnered-up friends, who’s about to turn 35 and is still waffling over what she wants out of life.

The North American Tour of COMPANY. Photo by Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade

In the 1970 version, Bobby is a bachelor. In this gender-swapped revival, which premiered in London’s West End in 2018 and on Broadway in 2021, Bobbi is a bachelorette. Both versions are entertaining, enlightening, and have insightful things to say about love. While the 1970 version was, undoubtedly, ahead of its time, the revival brings a modern touch — and a slight Alice in Wonderland flair — that connects the characters to today’s audiences.

The topic of, or should I say battle between, singledom versus settling down is endlessly mineable. Bobbi likes being single because it’s carefree. But after spending time with her married friends, she wonders if she’s missing out on something. Then again, after seeing her friends’ seemingly happy relationships hit rough patches, Bobbi appreciates again the merits of being single.

There’s a song at the top of the show called “Sorry/Grateful”, sung by Bobbi's married friend Harry, explaining how he views marriage. “You’re always sorry / You’re always grateful / You’re always wondering what might have been / Then she walks in”. It’s a wistful, reflective number that speaks to the dissatisfaction we’re apt to feel no matter what side of the fence we’re on.

Derrick Davis as Larry, Judy McLane as Joanne and Britney Coleman as Bobbie in the North American Tour of COMPANY. Photo by Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade

The ensemble is strong in this production. The characters of Bobbi’s married friends carry the show as much as Bobbi does. Their conversations and quips about relationships show the true, full, colorful spectrum of married life. The scenes of Bobbi chatting with her friends feel like one-act plays (and, in fact, they kind of are; Sondheim took one-act plays by playwright George Furth and partnered with him to create Company) and show the upsides, downsides, and ridiculous sides to partnering up with someone for life.

Some of the better-known songs include the frantic “Getting Married Today”, sung at breakneck speed by the hilarious Matt Rodin, while experiencing cold feet before his wedding; the instantly recognizable “Ladies Who Lunch”, the 11 o’clock number made famous by Elaine Stritch in the original Broadway production and sung with conviction by the fabulous Judy McLane on this tour; “Another Hundred People”, which serves as a love letter to the chaos of social life in New York City; and “Being Alive”, where everything Bobbi has learned throughout the musical is elegantly summarized.

Don't miss this clever, unique, and truly funny production of one of Sondheim's best.

Company is playing at the Cadillac Palace Theatre at 151 W Randolph St. through November 12, 2023. Tickets at the box office or at BroadwayinChicago.com.

I doubt anyone would contest the appeal of a feel-good musical for the post-pandemic, pre-election, peri-MAGA year of 2023, and "Brigadoon" is just that: a feel-good show with overtones of fantasy and romance.

The story has two NYC businessmen wandering astray on a hunting trip in Scotland and happening upon the village of Brigadoon – a most peculiar village, as Act One makes increasingly clear. Tommy Albright (brilliantly played by Conor Jordan) and Jeff Douglas (Zachary Linnert), despite their friendship, are about as different as two men could be. Tommy has, to all appearances, a perfect life: perfect job, perfect fiancée, plenty of money and seemingly without a care in the world. Still, Tommy feels there’s something missing, and yearns to find he-knows-not-what. Jeff is more settled as dogged bachelor and tenacious tippler . He meets Tommy’s dreams with staunch rationality: Jeff believes only in what he can see, hear, feel, taste … like that.

They get lost trekking through the Scottish highlands and, though the map shows no settlement nearby, they follow the sound of music to find a group of men and women preparing for the wedding of Charlie Dalrymple (Luke Nowakowski) to Jean MacLaren (Susannah Harvey). Perhaps the wedding is the reason they’re dressed so queerly? for everyone is garbed in traditional Scottish dress … traditional for 1747, that is! The people speak oddly, with mysterious references to getting the wedding over before ‘the miracle’.

Jeff, more than a little inebriated, wants only a chance to sleep it off, which Meg Brockie (Madison Kauffman) eagerly offers. She leads him into the heathered hills, but once there reveals she has no intention of letting him sleep, delightfully expressed in the song “The Love of My Life”.

Meanwhile, Tommy’s eye has been caught by the beautiful Fiona MacLaren (Sarah Obert) and he insists on accompanying her as she goes to gather The Heather on the Hill. I trust I won’t be accused of a major spoiler by revealing that they fall in love; their duet It’s Almost Like Falling in Love is one of the show’s best-known songs.

Still, as Jeff points out, there are things that need explaining, and Fiona takes them to the eccentric Mr. Lundie (cleverly played by Timothy Wolf), who explains that in 1747 the town, to avoid being hexed by a traveling troop of sorceresses, was placed under a very special spell: the village of Brigadoon exists for but a single day every century; when the populace goes to bed at the close of that day they don’t awaken until 100 years in the future. And there’s a major catch: nobody can leave Brigadoon or the entire populace is doomed – kind of like Hotel California expanded to the scope of Jonestown.

Performances were universally superb. The voices of all principals – Sarah Obert (Fiona), Luke Nowakowski (Charlie), and Isa Ramirez as Maggie Anderson – were strong and true, particularly Sarah Obert’s clarion soprano. I single out Madison Kauffman (Meg Brockie) for her astonishing enunciation of some wickedly rapid lyrics without her tang getting tungled even once. And I single out Conor Jordan (Tommy) because, even in a comprehensively magnificent cast, his splendid performance stood out as exceptional. Not eclipsing the others, mind – that can create problems – but I found Jordan’s singing, acting, and dancing to be extra-specially special. [Yeah, I usually have a favorite in every cast – so sue me.]

The cast surrounding these principals was equally gifted: Stan Austin as Stuart Dalrymple, Bob Sanders as Archie Beaton with Will Leonard playing his son Harry; Susannah Harvey playing Fiona’s sister Jean MacLaren and Kent Joseph as their father Andrew. Timothy Wolf was an adorably discombobulated Mr. Lundie. The rest of the villagers were Jane Ashton (Delaney Good), Maggie Anderson (Isa Ramirez), Frank (Jimmy Hogan), and Kate (Anna Marie Abbate), with Adam Raso covering Sandy/Angus. The Ensemble added breadth and depth: Emma Jean Eastlund, Theresa Egan, David Geinosky, Dee Kimpel, Olivia Russell, Alex Villasenor, and Swing Renee Dwyer. It’s a big cast and I wish I could comment on each individual but have to settle with unanimously stunning.

The performers were brilliant; unfortunately much of the production tTeam didn’t quite meet their standard. Stage space was limited, but I’m accustomed to the really small stages of the storefront theatres I love, and Scenic Designer Ann Davis made clever use of the space, complementing the action of the play with multiple levels and alternate entrances. Not so much though with Props Designer Emmett Wickersham, who allowed some serious anachronisms: in the very first scene I was jolted by Tommy carrying a canvas duffel prominently emblazoned with the Ralph Lauren Polo label.

Hair, Wig and Makeup designer Alice Salazar, with Assistant Melanie Saso, did a nice job with some remarkably hirsute characters, but the wardrobes created by Costume Designer Jazmin Aurora Medina and Assistant Kristen Brinati were … meh. Scots clan plaids are distinctly singular and mean something; it’s not just a form of checkered cloth, and the kilts and flyplaids for "Brigadoon" were not authentic. Speaking of flyplaids, I understand the rationale for securing it twice – the dances are quite vigorous. Scotsmen manage, though … and I was very disappointed to catch a glimpse of inauthentic dress (or, more properly, undress) under the kilts. As for the girls, their dresses were pretty, but in no way memorable. Design is all about minutiae and details, and these fine points were neglected in "Brigadoon."

"Brigadoon" demanded a cast well-versed in three domains: acting, singing, and dancing, with the latter two dependent on Sound Designer Vija Lapp and Music Director / Conductor Michael McBride’s 7-piece orchestra. On the whole it was grand, supporting but not overwhelming the cast, though I do wish McBride had found a bagpipe. Lighting Designer Andrew Meyers skillfully evoked the shifting environments, from bright celebration to nubilous mystery.

The fights were well choreographed by Amber Wuttke, likewise the work of Intimacy Choreographer Elena Patterson; and the Scots dialect, Coached by Kathy Logelin, was spot-on. Sasha Gerritson Directed, and her Assistant Clayton Cross was also Choreographer. His dances were superb, incorporating elements of the Scottish fling and the Strathspey travelling step into each ceilidh throughout the show – presumably influenced by the consulting Thistle & Heather Highland Dancers. Dance performance was magnificent, sustained by Dance Captains Anna Marie Abbate and Isa Ramirez. Kudos to all collaborators, and of course laurels for a wonderful cast of dancin’ fools!

And speaking of collaboration: raves and plaudits for Stage Manager Allison Gonzalez. She and her Assistant Ethan Colish deserve recognition as authentic Cat Herders for bringing this show off! [BTW, have you seen this brilliant cat herder clip? It was a halftime ad for some long-ago Superbowl).

"Brigadoon" is emblematic of the Golden Age of musicals, in which all three domains – acting, singing, and dancing – play key roles. Prior to the 1920’s musical theatre was still evolving from variety shows, which might include singers, magicians, acrobats, and other divers offerings – Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan demonstrating ‘finger language’ was popular. Over time these disconnected acts took shape as vaudeville and revues, where the variety of acts had a central theme. The Jazz Age, 1920’s through 30’s brought operettas to the stage, produced by the likes of Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, and teams like Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart.

In the Golden Age of Musical Theatre, 1940’s thru 1950’s, Lerner & Lowe joined their contemporaries in producing book musicals – plays where songs and dances were fully integrated into a serious dramatic story, aimed to evoke genuine emotions, with fully three-dimensional characters performing songs and dances motivated by situation and character. Some outstanding examples of book musicals include “My Fair Lady”, “West Side Story”, and “The King and I”. Into this welcoming environment Lerner and Loeb brought "Brigadoon."

The 1960’s-‘70’s saw a major shift in style, as is to be expected in such turbulent times. Experimentation with rock musicals like “Hair” accompanied social commentary, as in “Fiddler on the Roof” and “A Chorus Line”. Stephen Sondheim flourished in this pre-contemporary era, as did Kander and Ebb and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The millenium seemed to turn back into more comedic offerings, and we’ve yet to see what the 2020’s will bring.

Me, I like dramas focusing on social issues but in general I hope for a strong swing toward original works that experiment with alternative genre.
How about you? Where would you like to see musical theatre turn? For today escapism is appropriate, and "Brigadoon" delivers! "Brigadoon" runs through November 12 at North Shore Center for the Performing Arts in Skokie.

Laugh-out-loud funny, “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife” from an award-winning script by Robert Busch, is an entertaining domestic comedy in the vein of Neil Simon, very Jewish New York humor. MadKap Productions, which has moved to the Skokie Theatre with this show, has given it a top-notch treatment, with an elegant, very finished set—an expensively furnished co-op apartment on Riverside Drive in Manhattan.

There we find Marjorie Taub (Julie Stevens) suffering mightily on a settee, from a headache brought on by angst over whether her intellectual aspirations (she spends all her time attending heady lectures, museums, and reads Nietsche and Herman Hesse) are all for naught. “I’m just a peasant from the shtetl," she says. "I should be plowing the earth.”

All the while her sympathetic doorman, Mohammed (Ravi Kalani) is installing a designer light fixture he pulled from storage while uttering supportive counters to Marjorie’s self-loathing whines. Her woes are increased by her aging mother, Frieda (Amy Ticho), who lives down the hall, but visits constantly to moan about her bowl movements in graphic detail, between cutting remarks that buttress Marjorie’s self-hatred.

The allergist, Dr. Ira Taub (Peter Leondedis), recently retired and living a self-congratulatory life of helping student doctors, and indigent allergy sufferers in the inner city, tries to comfort Marjorie as well. But it is the arrival of Lee (Aimee Kleiman), a long lost childhood friend, that throws a monkey-wrench in this reliably operating den of neuroses. Directed by Goodman-alum Steve Scott, all this angst-ridden suffering is delivered with line after line of humorous commentary and throwaway jokes.

But as its vaguely Chaucerian name suggests, “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife” is at bottom a morality tale. After a crescendo of crises brought on by Lee, who squats in the apartment and turns out to be quite a gifted grifter, we get a resolution capped with a summary of the moral of the show. So the core of the comedy is dampened a tad in moments when it departs from the humor, to level a dose of somewhat heavy handed preachiness.

Don’t get me wrong, this script is good, and the performances earnest and skillful, with Aimee Kleiman as Lee a cut above (she reminded me of Julie Louis Dreyfus in Seinfeld). But overall the pacing seems slow, and the cast labored over lines that might be funnier if delivered faster and more off-hand. In comedy, it’s all in the timing. Set design is by Wayne Mell (he also does promotion and the house was full), with lighting by Pat Henderson, and truly excellent costumes are by Wendy Kaplan, who also produces the show for MadKap Productions.

Nominated in 2000 during its two-year Broadway for three Tony Awards (it won a Drama Desk Award), “TheTale of the Allergist’s Wife” is a good play well-delivered. It runs through Nov 19, 2023, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm, and Sundays at 2:00 pm, with one Wed. matinee on Nov 15 at 1:30 pm at the Skokie Theatre, a renovated 1912 movie house that is a gem of a performance space.

“Young Frankenstein,” a live stage musical version of Mel Brooks hysterical 1974 comedy film, is an absolute hoot in its new production at Chicago’s intimate Mercury Theatre on Southport.

WIth priceless comic bits, great costumes, dancing, and singing that is notably excellent, “Young Frankenstein” is underpinned by a bullet-proof script adapted from the movie, which in my estimation is Mel Brooks’ funniest.

If you haven’t seen the film, then you will especially be in stitches in this spin-off of the classic 19th century Mary Shelley tale Frankenstein’s monster, a cadaver brought to life with disastrous consequences. Mel Brook’s version brings us the American grandson of Dr. Frankenstein (Sean Fortunato)—also a medical doctor—who travels to Transylvania on inheriting the castle and infamous laboratory that generated the original monster.

This musical at the Mercury (like Brooks’ film) spoofs the three 1930s Frankenstein films, with their overheated melodrama and exaggerated horror.

“Young Frankenstein” happens to be the Chicago premiere of a 2017 London version, revised from the Broadway musical of 2007. The recount of so many hilarious moments from the film are extended by the music and dance. The score is a satisfying pastiche of some classic showtunes. “There Is Nothing Like a Brain” for example, samples South Pacific's “There Is Nothing Like a Dame” In parts, with other musical motifs patched in too.

What is most astounding, though, is how good the singing, dancing, and musical performances are at this Mercury Theater production. Soprano Isabella Andrews, who plays Dr. Frankenstein’s voluptuous lab assistant Inga, brings an operetta-worthy voice; and likewise mezzo-soprano Lillian Castillo, who plays Dr. Frankenstein’s uptight fiance Elizabeth. And still they are as funny as all get out.

Also notable: bass-baritone Jonah D. Winston as Inspector Kemp, a Strangelovian character with a wooden arm, and leg, and flawless comic timing. (Winston’s 2021 performance was galvanizing in Theater Wit’s Mr. Burns.) Even the Monster (Andrew McNaughton), limited to howls and moans when faced with fire, turns out to have a remarkable voice, in a show-stopping number at the end.

Particularly entertaining are the roles of the housekeeper, Frau Blucher (Mary Robin Roth), and the hunchbacked Igor (Ryan Stajmiger), garnering incredible laughter with their many signature punchlines and bits. Even the wigs (Keith Ryan) deserve a nod. After all, the Bride of Frankenstein wig transformation for Elizabeth, following her tryst with the Monster, is a key visual punchline.

One tiny quibble: the special effects for The Monster’s lab transformation could use a bit more lightning bolts and smoke. Running through December 31, “Young Frankenstein” at Chicago’s Mercury Theater, 3745 N. Southport is a must-see event. But be warned: once may not be enough!

It’s hard to imagine a time in which Edward Albee was considered an “emerging” playwright, but his first play, ‘The Zoo Story’ failed to impress New York producers in 1958. Of course, the play has since gone on to become a classic and is currently being revived by new-to-Chicago Gwydion Theatre Company.

Edward Albee always felt like something was missing from his two-character, one-act play about a man whose peaceful afternoon reading in the park is disrupted by a seemingly unstable young man. In the early 2000s, he eventually wrote a prequel called ‘Homelife” and the two plays are usually performed as ‘Edward Albee’s Home at the Zoo.’ Albee would eventually restrict the performing rights for ‘The Zoo Story’ in favor of the complete play.

In the years since Albee’s death, his estate has eased up on some of his more stringent demands when it came to performance rights. As such, Gwydion’s revival is a somewhat rare opportunity to see Albee’s text performed as it was originally conceived. Though, it’s fairly clear why Albee added a first act to this odd little play.

It should come as no surprise that this play, like many of his others, is linguistic gymnastics relying heavily on good casting for cohesion. Thankfully this production is in good hands with Bob Webb as distinguished Peter and Grayson Kennedy as stark, raving Jerry. Under Morgan Wilson’s direction, the play leaps off the page and becomes a story with a rhythm you can follow.

Sparse staging really turns the focus onto the back-and-forth power play between Jerry and Peter and ultimately asks the question: what do either of these characters really want? Albee doesn’t necessarily make that so clear, leaving it up to the audience to come to their own conclusions. Both Kennedy and Webb spar well off one another in what actually feels like fairly modern dialogue, despite some outdated mid-century turns-of-phrase.

It's not often you get to see ‘The Zoo Story’ as it was originally produced, and it’s always exciting when a new theater company opens in Chicago. If this production is any indication, the future looks bright for Gwydion Theatre Company.

Through October 15 at Greenhouse Theater Center. 2257 N Lincoln Ave This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

In the two hundred (and five) years since Mary Shelley jolted to life her eponymous mad scientist and his monster and set them loose, Frankenstein has invaded just about every cross-section of culture. Motion pictures, of course. And literature. Sitcoms and cereal. And, based on the late Liam Scarlett’s production of the romantic novelist’s tale, now "Frankenstein" has found the stage of the Joffrey Ballet for a beautiful reimagining of the heartbroken doctor and the heartbroken creature he creates, one that embraces Shelley’s gothic 19th century original.

Like recent literary reimaginings by the Joffrey (at its old home at the Auditorium Theater), Anna Karenina and Jane Eyre, the set and stage are beautifully done—scenic and costume design by John McFarlane for the Scarlett production. The Joffrey’s staging—by Kristen McGarrity, Laura Morera, and Lauren Strongin, and Joe Walsh—nicely incorporates the ballet’s “new” and cozier home at the Lyric Opera; while the Auditorium’s scale and gravitas might have added their own touches to such a production, the Lyric and the Joffrey are a great match. Gothic scientific projections—programmed by Troy Fujimura—set the feel (which I guess one could call “steampunk,” but doing so might trivialize the vibe. Yet, it’s not all doom and gloom and bloody surgical theaters here, as we also spend much time in happier, more comfortable days with the Frankenstein family at their estate.

Jose Pablo Castro Cuevas, in the lead role of Victor Frankenstein, nicely straddles these two worlds, as his character grows up in one and longs to go to the next—in the footsteps of his father, Dr. Frankenstein, played by Miguel Angel Blanco—Cuevas’ Victor falls in love with the adopted orphan Elizabeth, played by Amanda Assucena, a favorite in past Nutcracker productions, as well as the title character in Jane Eyre. Cuevas and Assucena make a fine couple, as do Blanco and Anais Bueno, in the role of Alphonse Frankenstein’s wife and Victor’s mother, whose sudden demise gives the story its direction, sending Victor off to medical school determined to reverse death.

But before Victor goes to school and begins to amass the knowledge with which he’ll wreak his timeless monster on our world, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Christine Rocas as the Frankenstein family’s governess and Jeraldine Mendoza (another Joffrey favorite from Nutcrackers past) as her daughter, Justine. Both bring life to their roles, and I couldn’t take my eyes off either.

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention the production’s musical score, by Lowell Liebermann for the original, played by the Lyric Opera Orchestra and conducted by Scott Speck. The music brightens the story when needed, but even more hints at the doom to come, and the gloom always lurking.

And now, on to the anatomy theater at Ingolstadt University, where the doctor creates his monster and where the story creates its mythology, now two centuries old. Devastated by his mother’s death in childbirth, Victor leaves these loved ones (and his newborn baby brother) behind to study medicine. Here, in the same manner he towers over 1893 Chicago each Christmastime for the Joffrey’s Nutcracker as that production’s empresario, Dylan Gutierrez looms over his youthful pupils in the round, the stern and statuesque Professor Waldman.

It is here in the anatomy theatre, fueled by heartbreak, exuberant with youth, and armed with the burgeoning science of the looming industrial revolution, where Victor Frankenstein fashions his monster. The set and pyrotechnics (by Gateway Pyrotechnic Productions) rival the scale in any Hollywood Frankenstein of yore. And the monster, slippery and scarred, is given a grace and humanity many of those silver screen adaptations neglect. Jonathan Dole wonderfully plays the role of the Creature—confused and contorted, a counterfeit creation in a world it can never understand or be understood by. He is there, and then he is gone, and upon his return, we are ready to be horrified, brokenhearted, and amazed by the Joffrey Ballet’s 21st century reimagining of a centuries-old tale of horror, heartbreak, and amazement. See it at the Lyric Opera, now through October 22.