Items filtered by date: November 2007

Out of Love by Elinor Cook examines the dynamics of a close, at times even unhealthy and overly enmeshed relationship, between two women friends. Cook artfully displays that elusive quality of intimacy that courses between people who are too close – an almost inexpressible aspect of the attraction that keeps even an improbable pair of friends inseparable their whole life long.

Since they were little, Grace (Laura Berner Taylor) and Lorna (Sarah Gise) have been like twin suns in an unstable orbit. That metaphor is apt in many ways. Drawn inexorably into each other’s lives, their needs and dependencies vary as they grow up, and they circle each other in a wobbly trajectory.

The two pledge to leave town and go away to college. As humans mature, their emotional needs vary, and so Grace and Lorna’s dependence and co-dependence continuously changes. The gravity of their emotional attraction and needs vary in intensity with age and their stage in life, as we meet these girls at all different points in their adulthoods, adolescences, and childhoods.

Grace is more neurotic and has suffered more emotional deficits growing up in a violent and poorer household, while Lorna seems to have had a more supportive home life and more stable upbringing. During teen years and early adulthood, Grace - perhaps responding to jealousy - seduces Lorna’s boyfriend, and ends up pregnant. Grace consigns herself to motherhood, and almost too quickly abandons her aspirations, while Lorna moves ahead. But we suspect the path of life must inevitably have divided for these two – leaving was too much of a reach for Grace.

Out of Love jumps around in time and place in a brisk series of vignettes, opening with a scene in adulthood, and jumping back to and from childhood and adulthood. The trio of actors offers an excellent performances - Peter Gertas (Actor 3) plays a variety of male figures – boyfriend, dad, brother, lover. Gertas is excellent in this shape shifting performance. The selection of British dialects (the script’s vocabulary won’t allow for Americanized language) establish social stature and are sufficiently well honed to accomplish their purpose.

This is an exceptionally good theatrical piece, and is receiving an excellent U.S. premiere now by Interrobang Theatre Project, where it is directed by Georgette Verdin at the Rivendell Theatre. But I found I just didn’t care about this extensive exploration of two women’s emotional angst, and the quality of the performances could not overcome my lack of engagement. One suspects that this is really a movie in waiting, where the intimate portrayal of Grace and Lorna would be more effective with a tight close-up of their suffering faces on a big screen.

I’ve said it before and I’ll surely say it again: We Chicagoland theatergoers find ourselves wandering through — lost in, even — a fairyland of shows and venues and world-class talent. And never was that more evident than when I experienced the Writers Theatre’s current production of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods, directed by Gary Griffin.

The show, of course, is part of the Broadway canon, beloved by so many and sure to please. And the theater, with its in-the-round set transformed by Scott Davis into something both sensational and sinister, promised the same as soon as I ventured into its woods found my seat therein.

But, as I’ve said before and will surely say again, it was the cast that performed the most magic, that inhabited the characters who are Sondheim’s wondrous woods’ inhabitants and explorers and tragic tales. As strong as any cast I’ve ever seen, here or elsewhere, this was an all-star ensemble of Chicago’s artists and actors.

Set by Writers Theatre artistic director Michael Halberstam (as narrator) and conductor/pianist Charlotte Rivard-Hoster’s three-piece orchestra, the stage becomes a world that reveals one fantastic character after another — characters fantastic since their creations centuries before, but made even more so by those now portraying them.

Lucy Godínez’s Little Red Riding Hood is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but winkingly so, letting the children of all ages watching her that this fairytale land isn’t what we remember it to be. Michael Mahler (who I last admired for his Jeff-winning musical direction of 2018’s The Buddy Holly Story) grounds us as the longsuffering but steadfast Baker. And Ximone Rose’s Cinderella is equally spellbinding whether grubby from soot or gowned for the ball. Each of the stars is a force to be reckoned with.

The force those characters all must reckon with, however, is Bethany Thomas’ Witch. From beginning to end, whether hunched over in rags or wowing with her presence and her voice, Thomas is the star of the show. Even when surrounded by sights and sounds that would catch eyes and ears and turn heads in any other setting, Thomas is the focus whenever she’s onstage. Sure, that comes with the role. But Thomas’ talent magnifies the inherent star power the Witch possesses. She’s imposing, enthralling, enchanting.

But so, too, is the ensemble that populates the Witch’s world. Brianna Borger grounds the woods in the real, human world as the Baker’s Wife. William Brown brings gravity (and a bit of gaiety) whenever his Mysterious Man appears. Mary Poole’s a hoot (or a moo?!) as Milky White. Ryan McBride and Alex Benoit bring the princely racket with both renditions of “Agony.” And just as riotous are Cinderella’s kin, played by Kelli Harrington, Nicole Armold, and Molly Hernandez (like Mr. Mahler, also part of Buddy’s Jeff-winning ensemble).

So, be assured that this production is one that not only that does right by Sondheim, but gives his classic a stunning and unique interpretation. And, as I’ve said before and I’ll surely say again, the fact that this unique interpretation is available to us Chicago theater lovers — and performed by the unique gathering of talent we are so blessed with — is magical, indeed.

At Writers Theatre through September 22nd.

Kiss produced by Haven Theatre (and playing at The Den Theatre) is a stealthily crafted play. Delightfully engaging, loaded with laughs, it tells the story of two couples, none married, who double date regularly to watch soap operas at one of their apartments.

Kiss is also a theatrical event for Chicago: the production of a play by celebrated screenwriter Guillermo Calderon. He wrote Sundance winner "Violeta Went to Heaven;" "The Club," a Golden Globe nominee and winner at the Berlin Intl. Film Festival; and "Neruda," another Golden Globe nominee that was also a lauded at the Canne’s Film Festival. His plays are performed across Europe and in New York, including Neva, Diciembre, Speech, Quake, and Escuela.

The play Kiss opens as the good looking Youssif (Salar Ardebili) half of one couple, arrives at the apartment of comely Hadeel (Arti Ishak), the girl from the other couple. The two engage in friendly banter, mostly play-acting lines from the show. After awhile, though, the banter begins shifting to role playing scenes from the soap opera, and the tone gets more seriously heated and amorous, in an over-the-top melodramatic style.

Like the TV shows, Kiss loaded with thwarted passion and impossible liaisons. That familiar soap opera-style music loudly punctuates the scene, as the soap opera jumps from screen to real life. In a real soap opera, the music is intended to conjure tension, or suspense. But here, it conjures up laughs from the audience – who were wildly amused by the overheated performances.

The characters struggle for words – they know the passion, but they don’t have a script. We hear clumsy lines like, “The heart is a big muscle, and yours is larger than normal,” and “You can love two women at a time,” or “I want to watch you eat and then lick your plate when you are finished.”

The role playing seems to be seriously leading to the real thing, and Youssif and Hadeel get there rather quickly: declarations of undying love lead to a proposal of marriage by Youssif, and Hadeel accepts. Then true to form for a soap opera, there is a knock at the door, and Hadeel’s beau, the hapless Ahmed (Monty Cole, who also directs) arrives, determined to propose to Hadeel himself.

Ahmed does, and Hadeel accepts. And so it goes, with complications rising as Youssif’s girlfriend Bana (Cassidy Slaughter-Mason) arrives, angry because she senses Youssif has been untrue. This meta-soap opera grinds on comically, until the action ends, and the actors take a bow. The playwright has drawn us close with this show.

And with us in his clutches, Calderon resumes the play with a faked post show discussion by the cast, and we are lead to another plane of performance that is mind-bending, to say the least. I won’t spoil the last 20 percent of the show, but to see where the mind of Guillermo Calderon takes us under the direction of Monty Cole – it’s well, well worth seeing. Likewise the performances by Ardebili and Ishak are excellent. 

Kiss is also a social commentary. The characters names and the Arabic script on the televised soap opera playing on the set let us know it is set in the Middle East. Information in the lobby reveals it is Syria, where soap operas are celebrated form of cultural expression. They are censored, in that criticism of the government isn’t permitted.

But Syrian actors and scriptwriters insert social commentary subversively. In the lobby you can also learn a bit of famous Syrian actress Mai Skaf, who died in exile two years ago, following harassment for political dissidence. If there is a Jeff Award for dramaturgy, the researchers who brings such scripts as Kiss (and also Pomona) to Chicago are certainly deserving of it. Kiss runs through August 18 at Den Theatre.

As with any good mystery, suspense, intrigue and surprise are the key elements in making a successful story that keeps one on the edge of their seat and keeps you guessing. ‘And Then There Were None’ at Drury Lane in Oakbrook has it all. And even though I have seen this play before, I did not remember the ending and was thoroughly surprised and shocked to find out who “dunnit” and why!

Without giving anything away, this Agatha Christie story is about ten strangers who have been invited to an island vacation by a secretive host or hostess. After realizing that there is a murderer on the island and no escape until a boat comes, the characters all begin displaying their own foibles and ways of coping with what seems to be certain death with some welcoming it and others fighting to the death to stay alive. As the mystery progresses, clues unfold that keep amateur sleuths (audience members) involved as we try piece the puzzle together.  

The mature and very talented, ensemble cast includes Vera Clayton (Cher Alvarez), Justice Wargrave (Matt DeCaro), Mrs. Rogers (Jennifer Engstrom), Emily Brent (Marilyn Dodds Frank), Fred Narracott (Casey Hoekstra), William Blore (Paul-Jordan Jansen), Anthony Marston (Zachary Keller), Doctor Armstrong (David Kortemeier), Philip Lombard (Yousof Sultani), Thomas Rogers (Paul Tavianini), and General Mackenzie (Bruce Young). And all ten had a solid grip on their characters. I was particularly impressed with Emily Brent as Marilyn Dodds Frank. Brent really knows how to infuse every word and look with an element of intensity and humor as her character teeters on the brink of sanity.

The set design by Andrew Boyce was particularly lush in depicting a mansion set on a private island somewhere off the coast of Maine with a stunning view of the ocean. As one who truly enjoys a water view, I was engaged immediately. Directed with great timing by Jessica Fisch, this production had me guessing on the murderers' identity right up until the last scene. But though the thought of a murder mystery might be macabre to some, the play infuses enough humor to keep things light enough for everyone to appreciate. 

There is a very interesting subtext in this story by Christie wherein the murderer has real reasons to kill off each of the guests who are guilty of murder in various ways themselves. The murderer has justified in his or her mind that killing each of these "alleged" murderers is the right way to serve up justice, and to a point the audience begins to actually want to see some of the characters die. But by the end it is clear that when a human presumes to "play God" they must be ready to experience the kick back of instant karma! Recommended for a fun Summer night of mystery solving that is suspenseful but not too scary for the whole family to enjoy.

‘And Then There Were None’ is a delightful whodunnit that is attractive to all sorts of theatre goers. Playing at Drury Lane Theatre in Oakbrook, you can catch this fun mystery through September 1st For more show information visit www.drurylanetheatre.com.

Pomona at Steep Theatre is among the most exhilarating productions I have seen this year. Directed by Robin Witt, who selected this imaginative script by British playwright Alistair McDowall, the play follows a familiar theme in British crime dramas: the disappearance of working girls, spirited away in this case from house of prostitution.

But Pomona is much more than that. Set in the real-life Pomona, a once fashionable and now abandoned acreage encircled by England’s M50 freeway, and bordered by two canals in the city center of Manchester, it conjures up the terror associated with an unlit, unpopulated terrain that makes a dark hole in the brightly lit cityscape.

The action centers around the world of two night watchmen (abbove) – bearded, burly Moe (Nate Faustman) and his young sidekick Charlie (Brandon Rivera) – who are charged with guarding Pomona from unauthorized visitors. At rare intervals, unmarked vans are admitted, driving into the flat terrain before disappearing into a warren of subterranean passages and vaults. Neither Moe nor Charlie know who is in the vans, or what happens below ground in what are supposedly former World War II shelters. The truth we learn later is even more nefarious than Moe, Charlie or the audience might have guessed.

This dystopian tale is also in part a staged realization of the type of role playing found in Dungeons & Dragons. The game itself also appears as part of the action, as it happens to be Charlie’s major social outlet when he is not at work.

As the play opens, we meet a graying, world-weary Manchester real estate mogul, Zeppo (Peter Moore), sitting atop a packing crate next to Ollie (Amber Sollis), who is seeking his help to locate her sister, who she believes may have disappeared into the subterranean Pomona. Behind them sits a mysterious individual wearing an extraterrestrial mask. Periodically Zeppo directs Ollie to hand the creature a nugget.

The three rotate continuously before the audience in a sustained introductory dialog in what is an intriguing bit of stageplay. This also serves as a praecis to the drama to come, and sets the essential theme of the play: absolving oneself of moral culpability by remaining ignorant. Reluctant to get involved, Zeppo finally agrees to help Ollie, but offers her a warning, philosophizing that he believes in “selective education,” meaning there are some things it is better not to know about.

These days, “You can’t be a good person; there is no such thing,” Zeppo postulates. “There are only those who know the pain they are causing; and those who don’t.” Ignorance is, if not bliss, at least a form of absolution.

The cinematic style of the script and staging cuts rapidly to four successive scenes, introducing more characters, all of whom are desperate. (It reminded me of the movie, “Crash.”) Fay (Ashlyn Lozano) a woman on the run pleading with her babysitter to stay with her child; cold-blooded Keaton (Phoebe Moore), ordering her investment advisor to withdraw all her money and burn it; Moe and Charlie injuring themselves to stage an alibi.

As the story unfolds, these scenes (which jump around in time) all become clear. The provocative scenes also draw us into the action, and McDowall doesn’t let us go. The show flies by for 100 minutes (no intermission).

The entire cast is uniformly excellent, though I grew to love the range delivered by Brandon Rivera, whose Charlie runs the gamut of dramatic personae: the role-playing Dungeon Master, the nerdy young man hoping to find a girlfriend, the naïve protégé of Moe, and a sobered individual who refuses to go on. Nate Faust brought a layered sensitivity to his role as Moe, with moving scenes in which he displays vulnerability with Fay, and an unlikely nurturance for Charlie.

Kudos to dialect coach Adam Goldstein on the Manchester accents – completely convincing (and I have been there a few times) – but the cast exercised careful discipline in consistency here. Likewise applause for Joe Schermoly (Scenic Design), Brandon Wardell (Lighting) and Jenny Pinson (Props) for an integrated and effective whole. Costumes by Aly Amidei are also noteworthy. Pomona has been selling out, so let's hope the run is extended. Pomona runs through September 14 at Steep Theatre, 1115 W. Berwyn in Chicago.

After seeing Strange Heart Beating, I felt the less said about this show, which is a murder mystery at its heart- the better. Its characters struck me as unrealistic, the dialog veers to wooden at many points, and the story is outlandish and complex.

Yet in describing its storyline to others, I found they were interested in it. Directed by Addie Gorlin, Strange Heart Beating follows a murder investigation, the mysterious disappearance of a young girl drowned in a lake – and the unfortunate fate of a young man, Ramon (Brandon Rodriguez), implicated in that murder. He is a factory worker at a nearby turkey processing plant, but claims as an alibi that he was only nearby to study the wildlife around the lake. The mother of the young girl, Lena (Leah Raidt) is properly distraught, even deranged at the inconsolable loss of her daughter.

In the course of the drama Lena moves from victim’s mother, to suspect, to witness – and eventually (and here playwright Kristin Idaszak may be drawing on magical realism) she gets trained and certified to become the executioner of the now convicted killer. The town sheriff, Teeny (Jyreika Guest), was best friends with Lena growing up. Now Teeny must investigate this murder, which divides their relationship with a wall of professionalism.

As the drama progresses and the case moves to court, Teeny adopts roles of both the prosecutor and court administrator – which bothered me on the level of likelihood and realism. There are two or three more wrinkles thrown into Strange Heart Beating: the lake is suffering biological degradation (herons become erratic); the turkey plant’s experiments in bioengineering yield creatures with extra legs and four breasts; and there are other young girls who have gone missing, some possibly undocumented immigrants and children of color.

All that and the kitchen sink as problems (the content advisory reads "Strange Heart Beating contains discussions about sexual violence against women, suicide, racism, xenophobia, and capital punishment") diffuses the focus. The cast does their best to work with what they've got. The one who gets a reprieve here is Stephanie Shum, who plays the spirit of the Lake with her signature gusto - and the lines are poetic and quite apt for a Lake. 

In an interview accompanying the program, Idaszak says the story is based loosely on the Jacob Wetterling case, which lay cold for 27 years in a Minnesota village. She wanted to look at why a town would remain silent with a killer in their midst for almost three decades. It would have been a better story if that had been the case. 

Idaszak says she was following in the steps of Raymond Chandler and other noir writers to generate the story, but seeking a less misogynist resolution. All this is compelling on paper, but not so much on stage. Too many axes to grind in this show, and so the dramatics lose their edge. Strange Heart Beating runs through July 28 at the Frontier space, 1106 W. Thorndale in Chicago. 

As the Chicago premiere of Dave Malloy’s Ghost Quartet was set to start, a cast member walked across the stage, stopping to thank us for attending before adding, “See you on the other side,” in the spookiest voice and with the spookiest face, setting the stage for more than an hour of spooky musical and musicality to come.

I was not too familiar with the content of Malloy’s “song cycle” before the show, only aware that he’d also penned the renowned Tony winner, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812. I’d also given a preliminary listen to some of Ghost Quartet’s soundtrack during morning train rides, finding a favorite here or there among the play’s songs, but leaving myself in the dark as to its story.

Having seen the show now, I’m still not sure the story is any clearer, but I’m pretty sure that’s purposeful (and why it’s referred to as a “song cycle”). And I’m pretty sure that titling it a “Quartet” is a perfect label. Because over the course of an hour-and-a-half (with no intermission), the story (or stories, as Poe and Scheherazade and Thelonious Monk and a telescope and a bear and a subway and, I think, Little Red Riding Hood, are all mashed up together) became secondary to everything else the audience was offered. And because over the course of said production (directed by Ed Rutherford), the four-piece cast acts much as a classical or vocal quartet does — playing with and off one another to deliver a delightful and disparate musical program.

The feel of a musical program (as opposed to a musical musical) is highlighted with the introduction of each of the 20 tunes — each “track” presented as part of an album or a mixtape. Some of the songs are part of a greater whole (perhaps this could be described as a “concept album”?), but many stand alone on their own musical merits. The ethereal “Starchild” is equal parts Bowie and ballade. “Any Kind of Dead Person” rollicks and frolics into Klezmer territory. “Fathers and Sons” is a duet, both vocally and via cooperative percussion. And “Four Friends” is one of the better drinking songs I’ve heard in quite some time (seriously, I wish I’d known that chorus back in my whiskey-drinking days!).

But each of those songs, and the other 16 that make up the show, are only as powerful or playful or seductive or stunning as the four extraordinary talents who give them life. And what extraordinary talents each of the four cast members possesses.

Possessed of extraordinary talent both vocally and physically, Amanda Raquel Martinez (the one whose spooky salutation greeted us) brings the chills throughout. At times displaying an operatic soprano, at others displaying the ability to contort her face into a possession that’d make Linda Blair’s head spin, Martinez had my focus through the show, and my musician’s admiration, as well, as she played ukulele, guitar, accordion, and percussion throughout.

Martinez’s counterpart Rachel Guth earned my equal admiration, come to think of it. Going from vixenish to virtuous, from gangly and girlish to sultry and seductive, Guth displayed an acting range only bolstered by her timeless look and her ability to sing anything from heartbreaking ballad to boozy barroom belter.

But if it seemed I couldn’t peel my gaze from Martinez or Guth, I think the cast member I watched with the most awe was Alex Ellsworth. Ellsworth played the cello for the entire show, grounding the quartet in its stringed roots. And while he played various roles (and some percussion), it was Ellsworth’s ability to make the cello just about anything but a cello that kept drawing my eyes and ears to his corner of the stage (decorated eerily and beautifully by Jeremy Hollis, I should add). At times it was a violin, at others a fiddle. When needed it provided ethereal sound effect. And at one point it was held on Ellsworth’s lap like a giant banjo and strummed with a pick. About the only thing Ellsworth’s cello didn’t do was harmonize with the other three actors — thankfully its owner’s got an enviable knack for vocal harmonies that turned a trio into a foursome.

And the fourth of the foursome, T.J. Anderson, I’d liken to that oft-forgotten stepchild of the string quartet, the viola, if you don’t mind me keeping on with that analogy. While his castmates might have gotten the juiciest parts to play (remember, this story’s made up of many stories, so each actor fills quite a few roles) and the choicest songs to sing, Anderson holds the whole thing together. He does so on the piano, which he plays for most of the show (accompanied here and there by man-behind-the-curtain musical director Nick Sula). He does so while pounding a tom-tom or while donning a black leather jacket. He does so by making each of the other three better and the sum of their parts greater.

So, if you’re looking to see four of our city’s talented actor/singer/musician types who I hope we all come to know better tackle a “song cycle” that you’ll leave knowing better, catch Black Button Eyes’ Ghost Quartet at Stage 773 from now until August 17.

Theatre at the Center brings back ‘Over the Tavern’ fourteen years after the 1950’s comedy brought audiences to their feet. Finely directed by Ericka Mac, ‘Over the Tavern’ is set in 1959 and is a comedy centered around the Pazinski family. Devout Catholics, young Rudy (Logan Baffico) is a precocious twelve-year-old who spends much time in detention where he repeatedly challenges the teachings of Sister Clarissa (Janet Ulrich Brooks). Rudy is not trying to be confrontational or funny, he is genuine when asking why he shouldn’t shop around for a more fun religion. Of course, Sister Clarissa and her ruler doesn’t see it that way and finds Rudy to be a troublesome kid with attitude. 

We often get to experience Rudy under the Sister’s guidance and the banter between the two is quite riveting, and humorous, at times, though it is in the home amongst his family that we really get an inside look at Rudy. Rudy’s father, Chet (Eric Slater), is tough, no-nonsense and, though he can show his temper on occasions, can also be warm and loving. He runs the bar below the family’s upstairs apartment and sometimes forgets to pick up dinner from the nearby Italian restaurant, much to the irritation of his patient and sensible wife Ellen (Corey Goodrich). Eddie (Seth Steinberg) is the older brother and is exactly that, the conventional older brother. He may tease his younger siblings but will also protect them without a second thought. Isabelle Roberts plays Annie, the middle child. 

The play does a great job of creating a late 1950’s setting and gives us a stereotypical Catholic family of that time period – the stay at home mother, the breadwinning, hardworking, middle-class father and their three children who find safety with their mom while distant and fearful of their dad. The play also hits home for many of us that attended Christian or Catholic schools when it was okay, and even expected, for faculty to physical punish heir students. 

Tom Dudzick’s semi-autobiographical play not only has a strong script, but Theatre at the Center gives this production some extra oomph by putting forth an all-around excellent cast. 

Janet Ulrich Brooks is nothing short of sensational as hard-nosed Sister Clarissa and is enjoyable to watch in each of her scenes. Logan Baffico makes a fine impression in his TATC debut as Rudy as does Eric Slater as Chet. Both steals scenes at moments and are thoroughly engaging. Most who follow this terrific theatre in Musnster, Indiana are already aware of Corey Goodrich’s talents, and she delivers once again in this, her 14th Theatre of the Center production. It is always a pleasure watching such talent grace the stage.

Loaded with laughs and touching moments and a few life lessons, ‘Over the Tavern’ is just as fresh and relevant today as it always has been. Kudos to such a gifted cast, the show’s flawless direction and a set that takes us back to middle-America 1959.

Recommended.

‘Over the Tavern’ is being performed at Theatre at the Center through August 11th. For more information, visit www.TheatreAtTheCenter.com.

Let me apologize for gushing (and being late with this review), but Brian Parry’s performance as King Lear at Redtwist Theater is nothing short of astounding. One of the finest Shakespeare performances I have ever seen, Parry brings goosebumps and rushes from his first few lines. He acts the role deeply and well. He is King Lear.

But Parry is also a consummate thespian, there is no other way to describe it – a master of delivery of the Elizabethan English, with cadence and emphasis so deft that the language is clear as a bell. While English is filled with ancient words whose meaning changes over centuries, the new meanings are accretions on top of the old ones. When uttered with skill, we hear with both our modern minds and our primitive souls. With Parry we hear it all.

My intuition tells me every actor on that stage knows what Parry is up to. I have to imagine they were all drawn to this demanding work because of their passion for it, and perhaps because they would have a chance to be immersed in such a wonderful enterprise with Parry as Lear. 

The story of King Lear is a mythical tragedy, a storyline set up by Shakespeare to allow for drama. The aging king decides to divide his kingdom among his three daughters. Determining which portion to give to each, he asks them how much they love him.

The oldest, Goneril (Jacqueline Grant) and middle daughter, Regan (KC Karen Hill) both married, are effusive in their expressions, and they warm the cockles of Lear’s soul. Hill and Grant open what will be noteworthy performances, on par with Parry.

But his youngest daughter, Cordelia, is less effusive, and more rational – pointing out to Lear she must love him more since she has no husband splitting her away from him. Angry, Lear disinherits and banishes Cordelia and the Earl of Kent (Cameron Feagin) who has defended her. Cordelia’s suitor abandons her after this loss of wealth – though the King of France steps in to marry and rescue her.

Enter tragedy, as we learn the people who really love Lear have been cast off, and the two oldest daughters and their husbands begin to diminish Lear’s standing – refusing his 150 person retinue, and tossing him between castles like an unwanted in-law.

The whole company is so remarkably good there is not a performance that falters – an electricity of excellence coursing through the stage. Particularly impressive were Kayla Raelle Holder as Lear’s youngest daughter Cordelia and Mark West as Edmund, illegitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester. Cordelia challenges Lear, and Holder has the chops to do it. Edmund is conniving and duplicitous, a bastard figuratively and literally – and West’s eyes glisten with his evil cunning.

Complicated roles and performances were those of King Lear’s Fool (Liz Cunningham) and the Earl of Gloucester’s legitimate son, Edgar (Robert Hunter Bry). Both play their character, as well as an alternate characters. Cunningham’s Fool took awhile to grow on me, for Shakespeare makes fools speak in puzzling ways – but I caught on.

And Bry’s Edgar is unprepossessing at first, outshown by his half evil half brother Edmund. When he adopts alternate characters - one a rustic bumpkin who guides his blinded father to safety - Bry shines. It occurred to me after this show that I had never really seen King Lear live before – though I have seen scenes from it. The role calls to actors – Glenda Jackson notably took it on in New York recently – and this production at Redtwist Theatre gives us a glimpse of the best that actors can be when inspired. Don’t miss it (it runs through August 2 at Red Twist Theatre at 1104 W Bryn Mawr. 

If anyone can be trusted to pay tribute to the late Sam Shepard’s work, it’s Steppenwolf. While they didn’t necessarily originate Shepard’s now classic play, their 1982 production certainly had something to do with the play’s legacy. In fact, Steppenwolf owes a lot of their respected standing in the international theatre community to this particular production. Directed by Gary Sinise and starring then unknowns John Malkovich and Laurie Metcalf, the storefront theater’s production transferred Off-Broadway in 1982. It ran for nearly 2 years and did better than the play’s original Off-Broadway run just a year earlier. 

In 2018 it was announced that Steppenwolf would revive their production in the 2019 season. Of the original ensemble cast, Francis Guinan is the only member to return (in the same role no less). Randall Arney replaces Gary Sinise as director and the results are fairly revolutionary. Some audiences may struggle with Sam Shepard works, but in Arney’s hands Steppenwolf delivers a comprehensible revival worthy of the hype. 

‘True West’ is at its core a simple story. Austin (Jon Michael Hill) is a successful writer taking some time away from his wife and kids to house-sit outside LA for his mother (Jacqueline Williams). His peace is disturbed by his screw-up older brother Lee (Namir Smallwood). The two spend the play battling out their dominance in near primal terms until their mother returns early. 

Sam Shepard had a gift for taking typical American life and turning it on its side with odd, but profound dialogue. ‘True West’ is an examination of the old west and what glimmers of it remained by 1980. It’s especially expounded upon when the two brothers vie for film producer Saul’s (Francis Guinan) attention. ‘True West’ also represents Shepard’s own duality; the slick Hollywood writer and the rebellious hellion described in Patti Smith’s memoir ‘Just Kids’. 

Sam Shepard plays are thinkers. They can be tedious to read, and even more tedious when done badly. This cast and director have a solid grasp of Shepard’s intention rendering a very easy to follow performance. While the ethnicity of actors should be irrelevant, Arney has made an interesting choice by making this a primarily African American cast. This casting adds a layer of complexity perhaps even Sam Shepard never thought of. Both Jon Michael Hill and Namir Smallwood turn in intense performances. They deftly switch between their character architypes and by the end you aren’t sure which character should be feared more. The last image will leave you breathless.  

If you’ve never seen ‘True West’ this is the production to see. It’s epic in scale with an impressive set by Todd Rosenthal and it’s incredibly well acted. For those Steppenwolf enthusiasts, this is an important revival for the institution itself, as this was the play that put them on the map. It’s hard to believe that without Sam Shepard’s ‘True West’ we may not have the iconic space on Halsted and maybe Chicago wouldn’t be nearly as reputable for outstanding regional theatre. In any case, this ‘True West’ is a bit of history reimagined for a new generation to not only find Shepard’s work relevant, but also consider the impressive legacy of one of Chicago’s finest institutions. 

Through August 25th at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650