Items filtered by date: November 2007

Do not see THE CRUCIBLE to unwind after a hard week. Do not take a blind date to THE CRUCIBLE. If you couldn’t get tickets to Second City, do not attend THE CRUCIBLE as a backup. But in any other circumstances whatsoever, DO see THE CRUCIBLE at Invictus Theatre.

Even if you didn’t read it in school you’ve probably heard the story: Arthur Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953 about the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93 in protest against McCarthyism. It still holds relevance today: the struggle to maintain critical thought processes in response to inflammatory public hyperbole … oh, yeah. Been there, done that.

Even simply reading the play is disquieting; brought to life on the stage THE CRUCIBLE is gut-wrenching, especially when well-played. And at Invictus it is well-played indeed. To echo the Buzz Center Stage review of a recent production: ‘I have to keep reminding myself this is a storefront theatre.”

I adore Chicago’s tiny storefront theatres; seeing the play while sharing the cast’s pheromone cloud greatly enhances the experience for me. Invictus is among the tiniest, with only 50-odd seats. I was in the front row and nearly had an actor catapulted into my lap at least twice. Mounting THE CRUCIBLE on such a miniscule stage is courageous, to say the least, and for anyone else it would be foolhardy. For Invictus it’s just the latest instance of achieving the inconceivable and doing it brilliantly.

Credit must begin with Charles Askenaizer, Artistic Director of Invictus and Director of THE CRUCIBLE. It would be easy for the frenzied activity to degenerate into a general brouhaha, but Askenaizer keeps the action crisp and focused, allowing the primary actors to perform without dissolving into the fracas.

Of course, he had the finest materials to work with: the cast was outstanding, every one, from the leads to understudy Steve Connell stepping in as Francis Nurse.  Managing a cast of nineteen certainly demands assistance, ably provided by Assistant Director Donica Lynn, Production Manager Todd Henry Faulstich and Stage Manager Gabby Rooney. And Amber Wutke certainly had plenty to do as Fight/Intimacy Designer & Movement Choreographer!

L-R: Michaela Voit (Abigal Williams), Frank Nall (Giles Corey), Joseph Beal (Reverend Parris), Lea Grace Biwer (Betty Parris), Charlie Diaz (Reverend Hale), Mike Cherry (Thomas Putnam), Laura Coleman (Ann Putnam), Barbara Roeder Harris (Rebecca Nurse). Photo credit: Through Line Studios.

Costume Designer/Wardrobe Manager Jessie Gowens did a superb job, adding intriguing (and no doubt authentic) details onto the severe Puritan garb. I was fascinated by the wide quilted sleeves and the double rank of buttons on Deputy Governor Danforth’s coat. 

One of Scenic Designer Kevin Rolfs’ brilliant adaptations to the limited space backstage was to keep most of the cast on the stage throughout, only retiring to opposite rows of hard straight-backed chairs when leaving a scene. From there they could serve as a modified Greek chorus: singing, hollering and finger-pointing to remind us that this lunacy infects the entire town. 

Props Designer Sam Paulson, Sound Designer Petter Wahlback, Lighting Designer Chad Lussier and Box Office Manager Steve Nordmark round out a truly extraordinary team creating a truly phenomenal production. Bravo!

As noted, the cast was massive and though each individual played their part irreproachably I can only comment specifically on a few, whom I’ll introduce by telling the story.

We begin in the woods with a circle of young women being led in a primitive, frenzied dance by Caribbean slavewoman Tituba  (LaTorious R Givens). Tituba furtively slips a mysterious drink to Betty Parris (Lea Grace Biwer), who begins to rave and convulse until collapsing into a coma. The screams of the frightened girls attract her father The Reverend Parris (Joseph Beal), a preacher who is far more ambitious than spiritual; he is both panicked and outraged by the spectacle. The girls, fearing the Pastor, turn on Tituba, saying she cast a spell on the girl.

The pusillanimous rector is horrified to learn the story has spread like wildfire through the entire town, with a widespread conviction that Lucifer is afoot. Parris, unnerved by these slights to his (illusory) good name, summons witchcraft expert Reverend John Hale (Charlie Diaz), who insists to the end that nonesuch is operating in Salem.

Mark Pracht is amazing as John Proctor, the local farmer who manages to maintain his integrity. Proctor is a decent, though flawed, man who sincerely loves both his wife and his God but evades hypocrisy by seldom attending Parris’ church. Pracht reveals Proctor as intelligent and insightful enough to differentiate God from religion and to penetrate the disguise of ordainment, seeing the clergy – Parris in particular – for what they truly are. His loyal friend and fellow skeptic Giles Corey is brought vividly to life by Frank Nall.

Devon Carson plays Proctor’s wife Elizabeth so skillfully that we understand and sympathize with the subtle currents of her mind and her heart. She loves her husband dearly, but can’t resist using that love to torment him – as wives of that time, lacking other dominion, were wont to do. Carson gives us a full view of Elizabeth’s development and maturation over time. Excellent acting and superb direction let us literally see the moment when Tituba recognizes ‘I have power here, I can take control’, and deflects the accusations onto Abigail Williams (Michaela Voit). Likewise, we can clearly see Mary choosing the opposite course and deciding to take the blame on herself rather than give Mary up to the inquisitors.

 As we would say today, the recriminations, allegations, insinuations and accusations go viral and the whisper network renders them ever more specious and malicious. I ultimately lost track of who was accusing whom of what, and I suspect the characters did as well. The arrest of honest Goody [‘Goodwife’] Nurse, played by Barbara Roeder Harris, makes clear the situation has descended from outrageous to grotesque.

Into this bedlam struts Deputy Governor Danforth. Danforth is a self-righteous bastard, in love with his own limitless sovereignty and equating it to that of God himself. What Deputy Governor Danforth says, is. I purely loved James Turano in this role! which he plays with both vivacity and subtlety. Clearly Governor Danforth relishes the opportunity to flaunt his distinction: a prestigious trial with copious defendants to browbeat and countless openings for thundering, Scripture-laden speechification – what’s not to love? And Turano himself is clearly having a ball with the role. I had a word with him after the show where he confirmed, “it’s always fun being the villain.” 

So … this is pretty much it for my review, but if you’ll hang in with me I’d like to take a moment to wax philosophic on THE CRUCIBLE and what makes it a classic. Start with the title: a crucible is a vessel in a refining fire where precious substances are tested, purified, and strengthened. And indeed the trial demonstrated how our legal system has been strengthened by erecting safeguards: spouses need not testify against each other; the defendant is protected from self-incrimination [‘the Fifth’]; each litigant is represented by an advocate; hearsay is not admissible as evidence. Our system still clings, however, to the final decision on clemency resting with the governor rather than the judge. Deputy Governor Danforth shows us just how precarious this may be.

Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953, in the midst of the McCarthy hearings and just eight years after the fall of the Nazi party, so peoples’ responses to an evil situation was a natural theme. Most discussions of THE CRUCIBLE assume the evil situation is the trials themselves, forgetting that Massachusetts was also in the midst of the terrifying French and Indian Wars. The Rev. George Burroughs writes of the Candlemas Massacres, ‘God is still manifesting his displeasure against this Land’; a sentiment with clear impact on the Salem Witch Trials. One wonders why Miller, himself traumatized by war and a harrowing political atmosphere, did not more fully examine the settlers’ traumas.

Debate continues over just what happened to the young girls in Salem, historically as well as in fiction. ‘Faking it’ is just too simplistic. Some have suggested ergot poisoning –  hallucinogenic mold in the bread – but then why only those particular girls?

Another, more plausible theory is a psychogenic disorder called mass conversion, in which anxiety, whatever its cause, is so extreme that they unconsciously convert their mental anguish to physical symptoms. The Salem populace was living under the strain of both a hideous and bloody war and, more to the point, the omnipresent threat of witchcraft; with equally dire risks of accusation and of being a target: “She killed my babies!” wails a townswoman. In mass conversion disorder, long-term stress converts messages from the brain to the muscles, expressing anxiety as twitching, shaking, garbled speech, and trance states.

This link to trauma is not demonstrated in Miller’s play. In the 1950s psychiatry was not well understood, particularly by the general public; the diagnosis of conversion disorder had not yet been described. Miller himself was also probably experiencing his own anxiety symptoms from the chronic stressors of WWI, the economic collapse following it, and the persecutory atmosphere generated by McCarthyism. He may have sought to relieve his anxiety symptoms by creating THE CRUCIBLE – as artists are wont to do.

Thanks for hanging in with me in my digression, but let me not forget the paramount message: THE CRUCIBLE IS VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! Should you miss this production (playing through June 11 at Reginald Vaughn Theatre 1106 W Thorndale Ave in Chicago), first kick yourself, then remember that Invictus is a safe bet for quality theatre, whatever is playing.

From the Director’s Note:

I couldn’t help thinking of Pastor Martin Niemoller’s quote from his reflections on the Holocaust:

First they came for the socialists, but I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.

One by one, the town is ‘purified of witches’ until cows wander aimlessly along the roads and untended crops rot in the fields. Soon there is no one left to speak out about the injustices or take the time to rationally think about the accusations made. Soon all that is left are empty chairs and silence.

King Solomon once wrote there is nothing new under the sun, I will also add, there are no new stories to be told. The only difference is how the stories are told. Chicago playwright Joshua Allen with the second installment of his Grand Boulevard Trilogy is proving himself to be quite the storyteller, making what’s old new again.

The story starts calmy enough with a knock on the door in the early morning of October. Answering the door is Mrs. Elkins (the always excellent Shariba Rivers), a 51-year-old widower raising her 16-year-old granddaughter. She has a stoic countenance about her. This is a woman who has endured pain and lost. We learn she was 16 when she had her only child with her then boyfriend, whom she married. She endured a loveless marriage until his death at the age of 39. Mrs. Elkin’s daughter dropped off her daughter in 1946 for Mrs. Elkin to take care of while she went to Woolworth’s. She hasn’t been seen since. Mrs. Elkins works at a dental office as a receptionist. She owns the apartment building, renting out the upper floors to tenants while she and her granddaughter live in the basement apartment. Life has taught Mrs. Elkins to take care of herself. She is a hard smoking, no nonsense pragmatic woman.

On the other side of the door is Crutch (a youthful Brandon Sapp), Gloria’s little boyfriend. Crutch is as charming and affable as any young teenager of the times. He is smart and quick witted and comes from a “good” family. He is hopelessly devoted to Gloria, so much so, he sets in motion the storm of this play.

Gloria (the talented Jaeda LaVonne) is dealing with typical teenage angst. She is much more mature than her boyfriend Crutch. She knows how to use her feminine wiles. She has an active imagination and a quick tongue. The fact she resides in the same place as her strong-willed grandmother is enough to create a year-round storm.

Upstairs neighbor Lucille (a comic turn by Felisha D. McNeal) is the village needed to raise a child. She is the opposite of Mrs. Elkins. Although she is at least 10 years older than her landlady, she is spirited and jovial. She enjoys life to the fullest. Her years as a schoolteacher gives her an advantage with Gloria and Crutch. Lucille is the perfect advocate for the teens.

The last character is the Korean War vet Louis (the skillful Nathaniel Andrew) renting the second-floor apartment. Soft spoken and suffering from PTSD, Louis is easy to love, but he won’t be manipulated.

Under the astute direction of Malkia Stampley the play has a freshness and immediacy. The tension is thick throughout the story. The connections between the characters are real. We are never allowed to rest in our feelings before another plotline presents itself, even though we know where it leads.

The set by Sotirios Livaditisis is realistic and functional. The beautiful lighting design by Jared Gooding evokes time as well as mood changes. No one looks better in 60’s fashion than Shariba Rivers. Thanks to Alexia Rutherford’s costume designs we knew exactly the era and social standing of all these characters. The costumes popped. The original music by Christopher Kriz is beautiful, perfectly setting the tone. Allen has written a beautiful slow burn of a play. While there are few surprises, the acting and complete production design lifts the story off the page creating an enjoyable theatrical event. Luckily, the more things change, the more they stay the same. RECOMMENDED

When: Through June 25

Where: Raven Theatre 6157N. Clark St. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes with one intermission

Tickets: $40 (students, active military, and veterans $15)

Contact: raventheatre.com

Will WIlhelm, a trans actor with a serious bent for Shakespeare, takes us on a provocative journey through the playwright’s works that is both funny and eye opening. About Face Theatre’s “Gender Play or What You Will” is accompanied by plenty of witty dish. But this seemingly light-hearted two-hours also seeks to reset our view of those works the playwright penned between 1690 and 1713.

“The words belong to all of us,” Wilhelm says, and as a trans performer,. “I wanted to see myself reflected in the world,” claiming that after channeling Sakespeare’s spirit, “Will suggested I traipse through his work as me.”

It’s not only a reasonable quest—in Shakespeare’s time male actors played all the female roles, and gender-shifts in characters (women disguised as men) were a common plot device in his works—but for Will Wilhelm, the actor, the Bard’s works also formed an avenue to personal liberation.

Wilhelm shares an experience in a career as a professional actor, where during auditions performers are quickly dropped into slots: housewife, ingenue, jock, father, bookworm. Wilhem adapted by playing the roles directors sought, but it felt false. During the show Wilhelm relates how the realization that the gender fluidity of Shakespeare’s many characters—as well as the “othern Save ess” of outsider characters like Sherlock or Othello—provided strength and comfort. “William Shakespeare was writing about the marginalized,” Wilhem tells us.

Between the personal digressions and audience engagement, Wilhem taps quotes from a number of Shakespeare’s works that get the idea across. In some respects, this show is a goodly showcase for Wilhelm’s skill with the playwright, with bits from “Macbeth,” “Henry V,” "Hamlet" and other works. What characters would Wilhelm like to play from Shakespeare? "All of them," we're told—in other words, not just Ophelia, but also Hamlet, or the gravedigger.

Make no mistake, though, this sophisticated two-hour one-person show is also erudite and insightful, and informative. We learn that as the young Shakespeare (who was married at 18) had fathered three children by age 21.

His prolific output (37 plays in 23 years, the first at age 25) was likely driven by a need for cash. He also took on tutoring work, students including a young lord, Henry Wriothesley, who was reluctant to marry, and is said to be a youth referred to in Shakespeare’s sonnets. Sonnet 18, “Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day,” in Wilhem’s interpretation, is aimed at Henry, while other sonnets argue for Henry to marry and procreate.

Society’s perceptions of Shakespeare continually shift, mirroring contemporary values. Willhelm and co-creator Erin Murray do that for today's mores in “Gender Play Or What You Will,” running through June 3 at the Den Theatre.

Playwright Joel Tan named this play for the book And Tango Makes Three, a true story about the two male penguins in Central Park Zoo who as a couple hatched and raised Tango – who, just by the way, later paired with another female penguin.

But we’re not here to discuss the genetics of queerness. Rather, this play is about the impact of homophobia, specifically in Tan’s home city of Singapore where the play is set. The director Carol Ann Tan, also Singapore-born, says “Singapore is rife with contradictions … you can have a good life in Singapore so long as you play by the rules.”

But Kenneth (G Hao Lee) and Liam (Mike Newquist) do not. With their teenage son Jayden (Luke Gerdes) they move from Liam’s home in London to Kenneth’s in Singapore, staying with Kenneth’s father Richard (Cai Young). While out to dinner with their lesbian friend Elaine (Carolyn Hu Bradbury) their waitress Poh Lin (Rainey Song) refuses to serve ‘perverts’ and ‘child molesters’. Liam quickly shepherds Jayden away but Kenneth gets into a furious confrontation with Poh Lin. The encounter is filmed by another diner, who posts it on Facebook, where it goes viral.

The remainder of the two-hour show explores the repercussions from the ever-widening exposure on social media. Local activist Zul (Ronnie Derrick Lyall) begins a petition demanding Poh Lin be fired, and it all evolves into a huge public demonstration.

Poh Lin’s nephew/son Benmin (Oscar Hew) is still deeply closeted at age 30, but he meets Zul and, as their relationship deepens, Benmin is increasingly torn between loving loyalty to his Yi Ma and the burgeoning social conscience he’s learning from Zul. Meantime, the baggage between Kenneth and his father Richard (baggage whose enormity we don’t learn until later) is reactivated by Richard’s ignorant reactions to the building kerfuffle and his misguided attempts to grandparent Jayden.

TANGO is a deeply nuanced work, examining the complexity of our relationships with our homes and our families. Stage manager Jacob Sexton, with Assistant Ashby Amory, expertly presents the panoply of scenes by having two or three sets on the stage simultaneously. Lighting Designer Elliot Hublak, supported by lead electrician MaK Cole, defines each scene by spotlighting the rapid-paced action.

The acting is uniformly superb, but I need to give a shoutout to a couple of exceptional actors. It’s hard to believe that Luke Gerdes (Jayden) is practically a neophyte on the stage, he appropriates it so effectively. His range is amazing. And Rainey Song brings Poh Lin to life brilliantly. It would be easy to dislike this bigoted, rather stupid woman, but Song doesn’t allow us that oversimplification; however grudgingly we must sympathize with her as she suffers the consequences of her ignorance. And she is a testament to the skill of dialect Coach James Napolean Stone. Poh Lin’s heavy Cantonese accent is beautifully performed, and Song’s acting is so adept that even when she’s speaking Cantonese we hardly need the subtitles projected on the wall – her acting makes her meaning clear without the necessity of words.

I wish there had been even more work for Intimacy Director Kayla Menz (I’m so very partial to boys kissing!) but they do a fine job, and we have no doubt that this marriage of 16 years remains strong and passionate. Savanna Nix’s costumes, like Hannah Dains’ props, actively support the action, while Valerio Torretta Gardners’s sound integrates and unifies the mercurial action.

TANGO is the delightful product of a talented playwright, superb actors, and a splendid crew. Under Carol Ann Tan’s direction utilizes the intricacies of this richly nuanced piece. Joel Tan wrote it in 2017 but it definitely captures 2023. TANGO will be playing through June 11 at PrideArts Center. Check it out!

It's Mother's Day today and you know what that means, 

It's the day we honor those who rock cool mom jeans.

Don't pretend you don't own some, they're back in fashion, ya know,

So don those old favorites and step out for a show.

Grab your friends, hire a sitter, and venture out to the city,

To see a play that is irreverent, honest, sharp, and so witty.

Mothering figures will rejoice at this theme that’s well understood,

There is nothing quite like MotherFreakingHood!

The musical comedy plays out in two simple acts,

The songs encapsulating straight motherhood facts,

From pregnancy pee sticks and kid drop-off lines,

To postpartum, pharmacology, and teen robotic crimes.

Three women meet while preggers, each one a mom troupe,

Finding love and support with each in the groupe.

Tafadzwa Diener plays Rachel, the excited new mom,

Whose joy is contagious but she’s anything but calm.

Jacquelyne Jones depicts Angie, the Type A CPA,

Planning every minute of kid life like a project ETA.

Leah Marrow plays Marcia, a seasoned mother of three,

She's blunt and uncensored and longs to break free.

Rounding out the ensemble is the great Maya Rowe,

Who plays “everywoman,” and who often steals the show.

Julie Dunlap and Sara Stotts who wrote the music and book,

Understood the assignment and knew just where to look,

For the content and humor that peppered this play,

For the sometimes sad, lonely, and miserable days.

The long lonely nights, the joy and the pain,

That only a mother figure can capture and explain.

It truly takes a village, we make mistakes and we try,

But like motherhood this musical made us laugh more than cry.

MotherFreakingHood! The musical runs through mid-June

Find tickets here and get to Southport very soon,

Buy the tickets to thank all the moms who’ve been there,

Grab a Mom Water, or two, or three (you don’t have to share!)

While we reflect on this day, with the mothers we love,

Be them our own, the ones we make, or the ones now above,

This world would be greyer without them around,

And remember they’ve loved you, from that first ultrasound.

If we can agree on one thing, it’s that we all do good,

In this crazy, fantastic, thing called MotherfreakingHood!

Striking and enveloping, “Antonio’s Song/I Was Dreaming of my Son” is the most honest and accurate portrayal of how men are formed emotionally that I have ever seen. While it’s the particular story of Antonio Edwards Suarez, its authenticity raises it to the universal, in my view.

Saurez is a notable and accomplished dancer and actor, who brings his skills in dramatic movement to bear on Suarez’s biography in a one-act penned by Pulitzer-finalist Dael Orlandosmith and directed by Mark Clements. With movement direction by Alexandra Beller, it is exceptional.

In the opening scene Antonio gives us a captivating explanation of the challenge he encounters in managing his five-year-old while pursuing his serious creative work. He explains how he needs unfettered time alone in his studio to engage and release the spirit within that drives his work. But on this day, he unexpectedly has his kindergartener in tow, and soon enough the child is bored and wants attention. When this triggers violent anger in Antonio, and he slaps his little one, he is shocked and quickly remorseful. The rest of the performance is Antonio’s self-examination of the forces that unleashed this heretofore dormant violent streak.

With word, gesture and movement Antonio reveals his upbringing, early childhood friends, his parents, his bifurcated Black and Latino ethnicity. Conversant in street slang, in one astounding scene Antonio delivers a posturing boast of braggadocio on his manly prowess with young women, first in a sort of Spanglish street talk, then jumping to the other side of the stage, replicating it in Black argot.

Antonio’s self-awareness of the thuggish behavior that permeates his walk, talk, and demeanor, was illuminating. “Antonio’s Song” is modern in expressing the interior conversation he carries on during his personal journey. As a man and as a dad, I felt it was also a universal story. Many men have tried to tell the story of why men have problems in love and life, but Antonio fully expresses the vulnerability we experience as society pressures us into stereotypical roles that can abrogate our true selves.

Enthralled with dance after a chance TV viewing of ballet great Baryshnikov, Antonio is admonished against pursuing it as a dream by his mother, a depressive and vindictive figure. Wearing tights, moving elegantly, even delicately in dance, such pursuits are discouraged for young men as unmanly, gay-ish activities. Aspirations to finding fortune as an artist were also out of keeping with the vision of life harbored by most of Antonio’s Brooklyn peers. But his bosom buddy models a successful path into the arts. And Antonio’s father gets behind him, ultimately challenging Antonio’s mother and giving him support as his life takes him to dance school, to studies of ballet in Russia, and to a Harvard MFA.

Suarez’s stage mastery of movement is highly evident as he conjures up through expressive gesture unseen characters: his son, his dance teacher, his dying father. The creative team is also wonderful, in particular Jared Mazzochi’s project design and Luciana Stecconi’s spare but versatile set. Not knowing exactly what I would see in “Antonio’s Song,” I came away powerfully affected, and so highly recommend "Antonio's Song" at the Goodman Owen Theatre, running through May 28, 2023.

[Updated Feb. 20, 2025.]

I’m going to do my best to not provide any spoilers in my review of “Fairview” the 2019 Pulitzer Prize winning play by Jackie Sibblies Drury. It’s going to be hard. Definition Theatre’s production under the direction of Tyrone Phillips will certainly challenge its audience. This production starts in heightened realism, flows into surrealism, runs head on into the absurd before landing a moralistic gut punch. It would be unfair of me to describe the twist, turns and surprises. Everyone should be given a fair view of this excellent production for themselves.

Director Tyrone Phillips has staged “Fairview” as a play within a play. We are introduced to the home of The Frasier Family. It is a nice, if somewhat simple home. The type of home you may find in so many television sit-coms. It becomes obvious the Frasers are middle class African Americans once we meet high anxiety Beverly (Kandice Robins) and her hen-pecked, doting husband Dayton (David Goodloe). They are straight out of central casting, Perfect. If you closed your eyes and just listened to them, you would be hard pressed to guess their race. Yeah…those Black people.

Beverly is preparing a birthday dinner for her mother, the family matriarch, and everything must be perfect because, well, what would people think. As Beverly sits cutting carrots listening to Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday” the channel on the radio changes and starts to play the traditional “Happy Birthday Song. It rattles Beverly for a minute, but the music quickly changes back, and she continues her preparation of the dinner as if nothing happened. Her sister, Jasmine (Martasia Jones) arrives with a bottle of rose wine to kick the party off. It is obvious Jasmine is a little more spirited (o.k. she’s ghetto)

than her proper sister. She’s opinionated, gossipy, loud and (well, ghetto.) We next meet Keisha, (Jada Jackson) the teenage daughter any family would want. She has the usual teenage problems but it’s clear she’s very smart and focused.

The family has the usual conversations any middle-class family would have. Beverly is hoping her lawyer brother, Tyrone makes the party. Keisha wants her Aunt Jasmine to ask her mother to allow her to take a gap year after graduation. Dayton is helping his wife as much as he can. Jasmine and Beverly have an on-going rivalry. Beverly gets more anxious as things aren’t going perfectly. When she realizes the cake has burnt she faints, chopped carrots fly everywhere. Lights down!

The lights come halfway up on stage. And for the next five to ten minutes stagehands reset the set. This happens right before our eyes. The genius of Phillips is giving the audience the opportunity to have a conversation while this is going on. Nothing truly remarkable happened in the first act. Its unremarkable nature was, in fact, was quite remarkable. There are going to be some interesting conversations going on during this non-intermission.

The actors start the show from the top, except this time they are doing it in silence. There are two new audience members seated arguably in the best seats in the house. As everyone’s conversation has subsided, these new audience members conversation is just starting. We’ll call the more aggressive White male, Jimbo (Max Stewart) and the more liberal leaning White women, Suze (Barbara Figgins). The topic of Jimbo’s conversation: If you can be any race, what race would you be? Poor guilt-ridden, bleeding-heart Suze is verbally abused by Jimbo. She refuses to answer, she doesn’t want to be wrong for one thing. Next to walk into this conversation is a white man we’ll call Mack (Collin Quinn Rice). He clearly knows what race he wants to be, Latinx, not Latino, Latinx. He practically fetishizes the Latinx. Rounding out this coterie, is European born Bets (Carly Cornelius). Asked the same question, Bets answer is probably the weirdest or rather the most interesting. She eventually comes around.

Initially, this conversation seems to have no bearing on the Frasier family’s affairs, with their prying questions and uneasy answers. I was tempted to disregard the actions on stage for the action happening in the audience. However, as Act ll progresses, the two plotlines converge and interact, creating some of the most hilarious comedy I’ve seen on stage in a very long time.

“Fairview” is an exploration on the white gaze. Writer Jackie Sibblies Drury has let us in on the private thoughts of white people. We get an idea of how people create whole scenarios based solely on race, especially the Black race. They weren’t even listening to The Frasiers. They made up the story to suit their individual biases. Director Phillips has made the “white gaze” an actual gaze done by actual white audience members. We see how matter of factly racist tropes are spewed especially when it’s “just amongst us”. This play is also an exploration in the art of the mindfuck. The Urban Dictionary describes a mindfuck as something to confuse or reshape your thought the way the "mind-fucker" wants you to think. making you question, doubt, or acquire a new set of ideas based on what the perpetrator has told you. Susan Lori Parks did a mindfuck with Topdog/Underdog. By naming her characters Lincoln and Booth, she tells us what is going to happen. Yet we act like we don’t know what will happen. Jackie Sibbles Drury is a bit more sly but equally effective.

This production is excellent. The ensemble was perfect. The Choreography by Jyreika Guest, who was magic in “How Blood Goes” another excellent production, was engaging and fun. Special recognition must go to Props Designer Mariah Bennett (you’ll understand when you see the show). The costumes by Alexandria Richardson ran the gamut from plain to unforgettable.

 Theater should challenge and inspire. Theater should beg you to question and dare you to act. Theatre should teach and enlighten. “Fairview” does all these things and if you have a heart it will move you, and don’t we deserved to be moved…….. ain’t it time!

HIGHLY RECCOMMENDED

When: Through May 28

Where: The Revival, 1160 E. 55^th Street Chicago

Running time: 120 minutes

Tickets: $35

Contact: definitiontheatre.org

“TV Land,” a sextet of short comedies playing May 6, 7 and 8 at The Vault on Fulton Street, is a bit like the television that inspired it, with highs and lows but enough hearty laughs to recommend it.

An immersive theater event, "TV Land" puts the audience in the action, but not too much so that it would become annoying. Soon after arrival, ticket holders assembled in seats upstairs are ushered to the lower level where an open bar and gnoshes await—all included with the tickets.

A Showrunner (Anna Yee) and Head of Scripts (Kelly Lavendar) put the audience in the role of a writers’ pool charged with developing six scripts within the two-hour performance. Never worry, though, the heavy lifting on the scripts has been completed and we soon witness the opening act, “80’s Are Back,” an over the top, action-packed Charlie’s Angels send-up written and directed by Levander. The cavernous space near the bar is less than ideal for acoustics, and after this palate cleanser act we were ushered back upstairs for a more conventional setting for the next five acts.

For “Art-ish,” an examination of the possibilities of artificial intelligence in the creative arts, the audience tests out the technology in real-time, and a computer renders in seconds paintings based on our suggestions. Opening night included a cat on a trampoline in the style of Van Gogh, a pizza as if it were painted by Monet—not too different from blurred photos—and a very impressive panda as an astronaut, as painted by Georgia O’Keefe, rendered in three versions.

The ensuing one-act trades on this backgrounder somewhat, but it’s really about Charlie (Taylor Adams), an avid soccer fan who comes to watch a big game on the TV with his friend Trent (Joe Bushell). Trent is away, and his Wife (Sophia Vitello) greeting Charlie in her bathrobe, is relentless with unwelcome suggestive advances aimed at steering him to the bigger TV in the bedroom. When Trent finally arrives Charlie hugs him in relief, but we get an unexpected punchline.

The best of the bunch are “The Problem-atic” by Seph Bennett and “Intruder” by Francis Brady. “Problem-atic” is built on a funny conceit, a wand you run over text or images to identify issues of political incorrectness, insensitivity, or general wokeness, depending on your political orientation. The fast-paced and very witty issues electronically voiced by the Problem-atic device are a poke-in-the-eye at what can be overly-self conscious pretensions of contemporary culture. Bennett delivers humor in the vein of great satirists, with Sandra Adjoumani  (above) in a polished performance as the interpreter of the bad-news assessments provided by the Problem-atic device.

Francis Brady’s “Intruder” is the most refined one-act, with three scenes revolving around the intrusiveness of television in people’s lives. The Husband (Joe Bushell) has installed a giant screen high-definition TV in the bedroom, and Wife (Elizabeth Bushell) wants it gone.
“This TV is better than anything,” Husband avers. “All I want to do is decompress a little.” To which Wife objects, “Lay like a block, you mean,” demanding it be gone when she returns.

In the next scene at work Wife is in the coffee room with colleagues, talking ad nauseum about streaming shows like “Euphoria.” One co-worker Tim (Taylor Adams) confesses that he doesn’t actually like watching TV, but reads online summaries so he can carry on the water cooler talk. Why? “For the same reason I go to happy hour,” says Tim.

Two of the plays—”You Don’t Say” by Joe Bushell and “Woke Disney World” by Anna Yee— are funnier as ideas, but come off as mildly amusing on stage. “You Don’t Say” is a mash-up of a live soap opera with a reality TV show, “Woke Disney” is a self-help support group focussed on empowerment for Disney Princesses, moderated by Snow White and including latter-day princesses like Ariel, Mulan,
The Yellow Rose is one of Chicago’s newer companies, having launched during Covid, and “TV Land” demonstrates their passion, and irreverent sense of humor, always welcome on stage. Find tickets at www.theyellowrosetheatre.com

As we drove away from Lifeline Theatre I asked my companion what she thought of From the Mississippi Delta. “I have no words yet,” she said. “I’m still just reveling in delight.”

This play is indeed delightful. Even when eleven-year-old Phelia is raped; even when she and Aunt Baby are squashing cockroaches; even when her own town shuns her – even these scenes manage to delight without ever compromising the gravity of the story.

And the best part is it’s all true! Dr Endesha Ida Mae Holland (1944-2006) wrote the play From the Mississippi Delta based on her memoir/autobiography of the same name (which you can purchase in the lobby). As author and as playwright, Dr. Holland, professor emeritus of theatre at University of Southern California, chronicles her journey from dirt-farm poverty and the brutality of 1950’s Jim Crow, enduring rape and prostitution before finding herself in civil rights activism. It took twenty years, but Dr Holland completed her bachelors, masters, and doctoral degrees at the University of Minnesota. From the Mississippi Delta is a testament to Holland’s perseverance, and to the myriad sheroes who encouraged and sustained her.

The play, brilliantly directed by Lifeline Theatre’s Artistic Director ILesa Duncan, includes dozens of characters, all played by the cast of three actors: LaKecia Harris, Arielle Leverett, and Jenise Sheppard, billed in the program as Woman 1, Woman 2, and Woman 3. Harris and Sheppard alternate playing Phelia while Leverett primarily represents her mother, Aunt Baby. Aunt Baby’s artistry as a midwife leads a local (white, male – of course) doctor to call her ‘the second doctor’. The scene in which she rotates and delivers a breech baby left me stunned.

The play begins with the women relating hideous vignettes, beginning with Emmett Till, and each account ends with the words ‘This is the Mississippi Delta. This is where I was born and grew up’. After a handful of stories, they begin singing “Trouble in Mind”; that’s when I fell under their spell. Throughout the play they brilliantly perform at least a dozen iconic selections from blues and spirituals. Music Director Ricky Harris and Sound Director Deon Custard collaborate to meld the music perfectly with the action and with external and peripheral sound effects. Harris’ decision to forego accompaniment or instrumentation is inspired, as the three magnificent voices are enriched by a capella performance.

FunFact of the Day:  the a capella genre originated with African Americans singing in African American barbershops: the original barbershop quartets.  

(Top to Bottom) Arielle Leverett as Woman 2, Jenise Sheppard as Woman 3, and LaKecia Harris as Woman 1; in Lifeline Theatre and Pegasus Theatre’s “From the Mississippi Delta.”

Scenic Designer Angela Weber Miller’s amazing multi-level set has several doors and other options for egress, which choreographer Tanji Harper makes adroit use of to allow the three actors to instill a phenomenal amount of detail into each scene. Props Designer Wendy Ann caches props and bits of costumery (designed by Gregory Graham) all about the set, allowing the actors to change character by simply donning an apron or shucking a hat. The sparse furniture onstage is just as versatile: an ironing board converts to a birthing bed and later becomes grandstand seats for Phelia’s debut as a stripper. The transformations are skillfully abetted by Lighting Designer Levi J Wilkins. Stage Manager Roxie Kooi stitches it all together into an amazing package for Production Manager Adi Davis.

Everything lately seems to need an Intimacy consultant – even the American Ballet Theatre recently used one for a pas de deux – and Gregory Geffrard keeps the actors on the good side of the fine line separating stimulating from stodgy. 

An African American deep-south accent is tough to pull off without sounding like Amos & Andy, so my hat’s off to Dialect Coach Shadana Patterson. Her job was made even tougher by the fact that white folks are notoriously challenged by African American dialects and accents. In fact, though I was encouraged to see the theatre more than 2/3-full, it was almost totally lacking Black faces, which I find both surprising and concerning.,

My melanin deficiency invalidates my opinion, but I’m going to give it anyway: I think African Americans, particularly Black women, would very much enjoy From the Mississippi Delta. It exposes the singular brutality lurking at the intersection of bigotry and misogyny. It is a testimonial to the strength and resilience of Black women, a hymn to the human spirit. 

Look -- if for no other reason, go for the music.  See From the Mississippi Delta and be transported by these three magnificent voices.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Ever since my folks saw the Tony-winning production of Big River on Broadway when I was little and brought home the soundtrack on vinyl, the Roger Miller-penned musical has been my favorite. It not only acted as a gateway for young me to become a fan of Broadway, but it also introduced me at an early age to Miller’s and others’ classic songwriting, and to the story of Huckleberry Finn that I’d then revisit so many times in classrooms and libraries and pop culture. So, I’m always excited when there’s a production of the show, all these years later.

I was especially excited when, a few months back, I learned of Big River’s current production—now through June 11—at Mercury Theater, who have become one of my favorite companies in the past couple years, for their talent, for their show selection, and for the joy and heart that go into each of those shows. This production, by Mercury’s Artistic Director Christopher Chase Carter, did not disappoint.

The theater itself is always charming—a turn-of-the-century silent movie house ready to transport you someplace else. The set, 19^th-century Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi, by Jacqueline and Richard Penrod, completed the time travel. And as the show began, so did the narrators—Marcus Jackson (as charming as he was last year in Mercury’s Priscilla) as Mark Twain and newcomer Eric Amundson as Huck. The setting, Marquecia Jordan’s costumes, and the grounding that this is, in fact, an old-timey story do nothing to take away from said story’s timelessness or its lessons for today.

Quick note on Huck Finn’s datedness—one choice for any production of Big River is whether or not to incorporate Twain’s original language. This production does so, which was initially shocking. But, not to speak for the director’s intent, I think that was the point.

Amundson is a strong lead—his vocals stronger than many Hucks I’ve heard, especially on “Waitin’ for the Light to Shine”—and a charismatic Finn, boyish but in command of the stage. He harmonizes beautifully with Twain’s and Big River’s other protagonist…and as any great production of this show needs, it’s his friend Jim who’s the real star.

That star here is Curtis Bannister. Bannister truly takes command of the stage—most of the time on the raft the two share, or on various river islands along their journey—with his presence, but also with his voice. The orchestra, conducted by Marques Stewart, slows the tempo of the show’s songs just a touch, making them slightly more soulful and less showtuney than Miller’s original. This plays into Bannister’s singing strengths, letting him investigate and investigate each song’s melody.

And what songs they are— “Muddy Water,” “River in the Rain,” and “Worlds Apart” are duets he shares with Amundson where their voices seamlessly mix, while Jim’s “Free at Last” beautifully ends the show, accompanied by members of the ensemble playing those still enslaved, still seeking freedom.

Perhaps the vocal highlight of this show is by ensemble member Isis Elizabeth, who turns the schoolmarmish hymn “How Blest We Are” into funereal gospel. Perhaps the most timeless of the songs here is “Guv’ment,” a screed against everything that wouldn’t be out of place in right-wing or reactionary media. Huck’s Pap is played less over-the-top and boisterous, by David Stobbe, than any other Pap I’ve seen. He didn’t play for laughs as much as for sympathy—it worked for me—but he completely went for the laughs as the King, who, accompanied by Gabriel Fries’ Duke, gives the show some levity at its darkest moments, their malaprops and Shakespearean gobbledygook and medicine show shenanigans a lot of fun.

The rest of the ensemble is every bit as great as casts at the Mercury always are. Cynthia Carter—who I’ve long enjoyed in Chicago theater; seriously, if her name is on the playbill I know I’m in for a good show—provides beautiful vocals. McKinley Carter—last seen as Mrs. White in Mercury’s Clue—is a character, as always, as Miss Watson. Amanda Handegan’s Mary Jane brings heartbreak to her songs. Callan Roberts’s Tom Sawyer is the aw-shucks fun and adventure that Twain first explored in that boy’s book. And March Marren brings slapstick and charm to their roles as Jo and the Young Fool. As good an ensemble as you’ll find, which is what I’ve come to expect at the Mercury Theater.

And this production, overall, is what I’ve come to expect at the Mercury Theater—a new like at a classic work, featuring Chicago’s finest talents sharing their voices, their creativity, their joy, and their soul, which they will be doing from now through June 11.