Items filtered by date: November 2007

The new show running at the Den Theater, Fun Harmless Warmachine, may surprise you. While treating the world of video games, which struggles for recognition against more established art forms, it delivers an important commentary on a powerful social phenomenon.

Video games are a cultural mainstay; when a new game “drops” it can earn $1 billion, far more than a typical Hollywood blockbuster. Often dismissed as trivial, video games are full, multi-media expressions, and they truly merit our attention.

Fun Harmless Warmachine is also seriously good, I dare say even an important play. But its setting in the social world of virtually-interactive video game players could not be further afield from the living, breathing world of live theater. Playwright Fin Coe has successfully brought that extremely virtual world to its polar opposite, the location known IRL (In Real Life) as the Stage.

The story tracks Tom, a realistic gamer who is one of the many loners, men (and a few women) who could be located anywhere in any location and time zone on earth, and who bond in massively interactive competitive battles, as a rule, without ever meeting each other.

The show’s production at Den Theater is wonderful largely because of great performances. Ayanna Bria Bakari lights up the stage from the moment she enters as Ekaterina. It is impossible to stop watching her performance, as she presents the essence of an empowered, emancipated coquettishness, providing a dramatic pivot point for the play, and for Tom, an everyman gone astray played convincingly by Daniel Chenard. We also witness a jaw droppingly powerful delivery in the closing soliloquy by Emily Marso as Melissa. 

Fun Harmless Warmachine looks at the horrible undercurrent of the misogynist male gamer, which rose to public awareness during the 2013 and 2014 scandal of #GamerGate, years before #MeToo, when women begin to complain about misogyny in the games, and others complained about their gratuitous violence.

This brought to public attention a group of violent gaming advocates, not so different from guns rights militants, who harassed their critics and attempted to stifle the discussion. 

In Fun Harmless Warmachine we meet Tom (Chenard), a wandering, disaffected youth, turning ever more cynical as he realizes he has been captured on a treadmill of a dead end job with an overbearing boss. The more trapped he feels, the more he escapes to the world of gaming, withdrawing from his real relationships with work friends, leaving calls from his family unanswered, and becoming further depressed by a lack of romance in his life.

Tom's world devolves ever more into role playing games, where he poses as an alpha male warrior in a popular mass-participant game known as “Iron Fate.” During a match, Tom is discovered by a secret group of alt right gamer rights advocates – the "Order of the Sword.” The whole thing might remind you of an online version of the Fight Club. Indeed members are sworn to secrecy.  

This group's leader is Hunter, that familiar dominant male presence who can also fortify a weak ego (played with perfect menace by Robert Koon). Hunter woos Tom, enlisting him in Order of the Sword's efforts to stalk, shame, and harass activists who protest gaming for its celebration of violence. It's testosterone-fueled agenda also feeds Tom’s emotional void, giving him a sense of purpose and belonging. Buoyed by the group, his self-esteem rises, and he begins to find success in a new job and in his love life with Ekatarina (Bakari).

As Tom succumbs and becomes part of the group’s sinister pursuits of degrading, stalking and harassing women through social media, he finds a purpose that boosts his ego. 

Ultimately the play comes to a satisfying resolution, and Tom faces up to the evils he has wrought. While it is an Everyman story and a moral fable, this does not diminish Fun Harmless Warmachine as a satisfying dramatic work. 

Though hundreds of millions of people play video games for recreation and enjoyment, there truly is a subset of hyper-masculine, frequently misogynistic communities who combine into teams formed in this world of massively interactive video gamers.

By trial and error such kindred souls bond, and in this social landscape some less healthy individuals do actually form small, and insidious groups of alt right meanies. The groups coalesce into a terribly unhealthy social cliques, often choosing women as targets of their uncivilized behavior.

These folks increasingly transferred their virtual cruelty into real life harassment of harmless individuals who had the misfortune of being caught in their crosshairs. As gamers began to be called out for their misogyny, the term Gamergate arose - resonating too in the pre-#MeToo complaints about Silicon Valley misogyny.

“I finished it in 2015, and I was afraid it wouldn’t be relevant anymore,” says playwright Coe. But given the #MeToo movement and the recent tribulation of the Supreme Court appointment hearings, the world is even more ready for this play. After its run at Den Theater, it would not be surprising to see Coes work reappear at someplace like Steppenwolf Garage or another new voices program. Dramaturgs take note!

Don't miss your chance to see Fun Harmless War Machine through November 4 at The Den Theater in Chicago.

“Downstate” is a bit of a dog whistle for Chicagoland, suggesting a cultural distinction between urbanites in the north, and the vast agrarian expanses to the south – downstate - where trash goes, sewage flows, and where the state government builds prisons.

The word becomes generalized in Downstate, a new play by Pulitzer Prize winner Bruce Norris, which looks at the fraught issue of finding housing for convicted pedophiles after they serve time for their crimes. During parole, these men are returned to the” community,” but not to their home.

Instead they live in halfway houses operated by non-profits, sited in carefully proscribed areas that must be so-many hundreds of feet away from schools and other areas children may gather. The inhabitants are not allowed to go online, or possess a smartphone, keep alcohol, use Facebook, or move about freely.

Norris takes the less politically correct position of empathy in showing the suffering imposed on these pariahs, who in the world of #MeToo are unlikely to get a second thought. They are subject to regular inquisitions by parole officers, and a concatenation of rules and restrictions means there are few locations for them to live in such transitional halfway houses. So, they are shipped Downstate.

“I started doing a lot of reading about the things paroled sex offenders increasingly face– registries, residency restrictions, neighborhood watches, self-appointed vigilante groups,” says Norris. “These are post-incarceration punishments, that don’t exist for any other category of criminal.”

That in a nutshell is what Downstate is about: four men holed up in a house run by a Lutheran social service agency. They can go to work and come home, and that’s about it – even the local IGA grocery store is only 2,450 feet from the elementary school. They are indeed strange bedfellows, and Norris gives us the nuance of the caliber of their individual violations:

• the piano teacher Fred (Steppenwolf stalwart Francis Guinan) who had sex with two adolescent male students. Guinan, in an understated performance, shows the range that can be expressed within a very constrained character.

• Gio (Glenn Davis in an amazing, hyperbolic performance) a frenetic man on the make with a plan in his hand, whose crime was considered Category 1 (lower level) statutory rape of a young woman below age.

• Felix (Eddie Torres) who was convicted of incest with his daughter. Torres conveys the abject suffering and torment as he loses access to his family.

• A Broadway choreographer and accomplished promoter and musical artist, Dee, who fell in love with a 14-year-old boy in a road show of Peter Pan.

As Dee, K. Todd Freeman gives what will certainly become a definitive expression to the role. He is the settled voice of reason and a nurturant center of gravity within this ad hoc family of men, shopping for them and helping to make a home for them. As audience, we listen to Dee: he dishes and gives back as good as he gets – and he becomes our guide and the closest thing to a voice of reason.

Norris may be toying with us, then, by making Dee a very sympathetic character, while at the same time making him an unrepentant advocate for man-boy love – the movement that sees adult male love of minor boys as a victimless crime, and which advocates for release of those convicted of it. 

“There’s not many cases of death by blowjob!” Dee asserts. Gio, for one, abhors Dee both for his gayness and for his pederasty, with some violent outbursts in the house as a result.

Norris focuses this tension with the introduction of Andy (Tim Hopper), a Northshore suburbanite who with his wife Em (Matilda Ziegler) comes to visit Fred to seek redress, to “process” the issue and obtain formal emotional closure by getting him to sign an explicit statement acknowledging his wrongs. Norris contrasts Andy’s suffering with the experience of Dee, who comes to the defense of Fred, while revealing that he, too, was abused as a child – and claims to be none the worse for it. Fred and Em bring all the conventional middle class psychological expression to their claims - but framed within the context of Downstate, it begins to sound more like "white people's problems." 

Norris seems fearless in treading into such troublemaker territory. His Pulitzer winning Clybourn Park visited historic efforts in 1959 to block African Americans from moving into a white Chicago neighborhood, then returned 50 years later to watch a reversal of prejudice as whites tried to gentrify the same now-black area. Downstate will test its audience even further, since pedophiles are largely today's lepers.

Downstate is directed by Pam MacKinnon, and she had her hands full to balance the energy emanating from this remarkable company of performers. A call out to Cecilia Noble as parole officer Ivy - it's almost a thankless role to play the character who has a thankless job, in a play like this. But thank you, Ivy, for very good performance. 

Of particular note, the production is a joint effort by Steppenwolf and the National Theatre of the U.K. It may surprise you to learn the cast is transatlantic. The flawless, broad, working class accent of extreme south suburban Effie (played by Aimee Lou Wood, a Manchester, England native) and the dulcet Kenilworth articulation of Em (played by Londoner Matilda Ziegler) were learned right here on Halsted street, under the tutelage of Gigi Buffington.

Downstate plays through November 18 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. After that it moves to the National Theatre London in January 2019.

The excitement begins as you walk up to the Mayslake Peabody Estate. It screams Poe, despite the fact that it was built around 1920, some 70 years after the great American writer’s death. Upon entering we are given a dance card. Two colors are distributed – blue and yellow. The card one receives determines the path they will take in experiencing an intimate peek inside the head of Edgar Allan Poe. Though the two paths start off in different directions, ultimately the audience is told the same story, though through a changed order of events. Essentially, two plays take place at one time.

First Folio’s “The Madness of Edgar Allan Poe: A Love Story” was a favorite of mine when I came across it in 2015. I felt it was one of the best, if not the best, play I had seen that year. This year, as we begin to wrap up 2018, I feel the exact same way. Christian Gray, who reprises the role of Poe, is an extraordinary actor and is allowed to cut loose in this play to give us the performance of a lifetime. The intensity and passion Gray gives to the role is authentic and would be tough to match by any other actor. Almost seemingly born for this role, Gray is a pleasure to behold in each and every scene, the audience getting their first taste of his command in the play’s opening act that revolves around Poe’s “The Bells”, just prior to splitting up on different paths. "Bells! Bells! Bells! Bells! Bells!"

The play moves from room to room throughout the Tudor Revival styled mansion as scenes break out in several rooms, the staircase and hallways. The interior of the mansion perfectly provides such a sincere set it would be easy to imagine we are lost in time with Poe and the characters he created. Each location holds setting for a different story, though the overall theme clearly revolves around the love between Poe and his much younger wife (and cousin), Virginia. After all, this is a love story and a remarkable one at that as we see - and feel - Edgar and Virginia's undying love for each other throughout the play.

Executive Director David Rice’s masterful piece is nothing short of brilliant as every nuance and touch are considered to make the journey all the more unforgettable. Favorite stories by Poe are acted out with the rich flavor they so much deserve. Sam Pearson’s energy-filled performance as The Madman in Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart” is as intense as it is memorable while Mbali Guliwe take on The Prisoner in “The Pit and the Pendulum” penetrates through the crowd in the intimate setting of the once pitch-black room.

Poe’s wife, Virginia, is well-played by Erica Bittner, her best as she beautifully delivers the poem she had written for her husband. The love between the two is real and eternal. This is aided by Skyler Schrempp’s great direction and executed by Gray and Bittner’s exceptional performances.

The entire audience reunites for the play’s final act, “The Masque of the Red Death”. It is a triumphant finale to an incredible journey. The scene is elegant but foreboding. It is, the perfect ending to a nearly flawless production.

Christian Gray is a force. Gray’s performance alone is worth the price of admission - easily. But when you add several other dynamic acting performances, its truly unique one-of-a-kind setting along with the masterful writing and staging to support such an incredible story, this play is one of the biggest theatre bargains of the year – and it should be experienced by everyone.

With Halloween just around the corner, the air is right and the mood inviting for First Folio’s classic take on Edgar Allan Poe.

Highly recommended.

“The Madness of Edgar Allan Poe: A Love Story” is being performed at Mayslake Peabody Estate in Oakbrook through November 4th. For tickets and/or more information, please visit www.firstfolio.org.

If shock is the intent, then the opening scene of ‘Zürich’ is right on. The set: a hotel room, cleverly separated from the audience by a glass wall, furnished with a bed, a couple of tables and a mini-fridge. In the first scene it’s a couple of complete strangers who had just spent the night together; the scene feels awkward, not exactly helped by the full-on frontal nudity. “She” is played by Sasha Smith (credits include TV shows Chicago Fire, Chicago PD, etc.) opposite Jeff Kurysz, whose many credits include Support Group for Men, Romeo and Juliet, etc. The opening scene would have been just as effective had Kurysz been wearing underwear, the choice for full-frontal nudity questionable as it did not succeed in heightening any point and seemed unnecessary in general.  

The play consists of five mini-acts taking place in five rooms of the 40th floor of a Swiss hotel; people interacting, reacting to each other, to the maid and, sometimes unknowingly, to the other hotel guests.

Things pick up a bit in the next few scenes; there’s an angry lawyer (Debo Balogun), a miserable maid incredibly well played by Elizabeth Wigley, accent and all. Then there are the two spoiled brats - an 11-year-old boy and his older sister, alone in the room, squabbling and looking for trouble while their parents are out on a walk. Cole Keriazakos and Maya Lou Hlava are both outstanding; they’re the highlight of the play and its invisible center upon which everything converges. Cole Keriazakos’ impressive credits include TV series Southside on Comedy Central, Chicago Fire as well as multiple national commercials, while among many of Maya Hlava’s credits are parts in Oklahoma (Marriott Theatre), Violet (Griffin theatre) and voiceover work.

In the end, the self-righteous old woman and her bitter male nurse are up to no good and things might not end so well, but who is to blame them?

‘Zürich’ touches on a few current topics, such as gun control, government and corporate corruption, “toxic masculinity” (is there such a thing?), but also revives some old ones, like, the Holocaust. Written by Amelia Roper, directed by Steep ensemble member Brad DeFabo Akin, ‘Zürich’ premiered in New York this past spring.

A little trivia: founded in 2000, Steep Theatre is housed in a storefront space that was once a small grocery store called Grocerland; it belonged to a Greek immigrant, who happens to be my husband’s late grandfather. The store had undergone a nice makeover after having been abandoned for over 35 years, and is now a wonderful cozy little theatre in its own right.

Located at 1115 West Berwyn Ave, just steps from the Berwyn red Line stop. ‘Zürich’ is being performed at Steep Theatre through November 10th. For more show info visit steeptheartre.com.

Lyric Opera of Chicago opened its 2018-19 season with Puccini’s beloved “La Boheme” last Saturday evening. Essential to any Puccini production, more than most other composers, is a faithful rendition of the specific intentions of the composer, whose theatrical instincts were equal to if not better than his musical gifts. This production succeeded musically, but utterly failed dramatically to bring out the humanity in this work that makes it so well loved.

Thankfully, Conductor Domingo Hindoyan, in his Lyric Opera debut, understands how Puccini goes. In his comments in the program, he states clearly that, “The word ‘freedom’ is relative, because it should be a sensation within a rigorous respect for the score”. If only opera administrators would hold stage directors to the same standard as the conductors. This production, shared with the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and Teatro Real Madrid, directed by Richard Jones, designed by Stewart Laing, with lighting design by Mimi Jordan Sherin, disappointed over and over again in so many ways, large and small.

It was a shame, since there was much to appreciate. The Lyric Opera Orchestra sounded marvelous under the idiomatic and nuanced baton of Maestro Hindoyan. His sensitive support of the singers brought out the treasures in the score, revealing the joie de vivre of the Bohemians, supplying tight crispness to the opening of Act Two, poignant desperation in Act Three, and ephemeral orchestral textures underlying Mimi’s last moments.

Zachary Nelson’s full and velvety baritone was unfailingly well projected. As the painter Marcello, he came very close to a sense of who the character was, but never expressed the depth of pain caused by his obsessive love of Musetta, or the tenderness of his friendship with Rodolfo. As the poet Rodolfo, tenor Michael Fabbiano’s brilliant and warm voice was expressive and a joy to hear. However, perhaps due to opening night jitters, or a lack of meaningful stage direction, his highest notes were tentative and the softer passages were weak. Maria Agresta looked the part of the fragile seamstress. Her piano singing in the Act One aria bloomed as beautifully as the flowers she described. Yet, later in the opera, her voice was less attractive, her vowels lost color and sounded flat, not in pitch, but as if she came from Italy via Wisconsin. The talented and charismatic Danielle de Niese tossed off the role of Musetta with aplomb, despite the directorial excesses imposed upon her. De Niese is a tremendously gifted comic actress; with a lesser artist, Musetta’s staging would have been a travesty. Ryan Center Artist Riccardo Jose Rivera possesses a fine lyric baritone voice, but seemed uncomfortable with the physicality of the role of Schaunard. He was allowed to wander aimlessly and flail about. The monkeying around at the end of Act Two with the on-stage band was absurd. Blame should fall on the director though, not on this promising singer. Bass Adrien Sâmpetrean’s lower range lacked the depth and color expected for Colline. His interpretation of the cynical philosopher also seemed somewhat shallow and ordinary. By hanging his beloved overcoat on a nail to sing his touching farewell aria, he separated himself from it, and the tenderness of the moment was lost. Well known for his finely crafted characterizations, Jake Gardner was the class act of the evening, in fine voice, finding humor, but never resorting to buffoonery in the dual roles of the landlord Benoit, and Musetta’s sugar-daddy, Alcindoro. However, he was not done any favors as Benoit by being staged facing directly up stage, forcing him to turn around to face the audience every time he had to sing. Similarly, as Alcindoro, Mr. Gardner was buried by Mr. Jones’ staging in a melee of waiters and patrons in the Café Momus, obscuring the ironic humor of the moment.

The costumes by Stewart Laing were quirkily adequate. His set was horrible. Act One did not resemble a quaint Parisian garret apartment, but rather a newly constructed barn in Dixon, Illinois. The lighting in Acts One, Two and Four, was stark and bleakly colorless, evocative of neither the time of year, time of day, nor the congenial poverty in which the four Bohemians lived, laughed, and loved. In the relentless intensity of the lighting, the singers’ faces were either washed out or hidden in shadows created by the barn rafters. In Act Two, the supertitles were nearly unreadable due to the glaring lighting. However, in Act Three, the lighting was so gloomy that it had the same obscuring effect on the singers. It didn’t matter much, though. There really wasn’t anything to see.

Good translations are a blessing, and the accurately natural supertitles by Kenneth Chalmers were truly excellent. However, these titles also served to highlight the director’s many mistakes, too numerous to detail in full. After Mimi’s fake looking faint, and even more fake looking recovery (she popped up like a jack-in-the-box), when she drops her key, Rodolfo says, “Buio pesto” (“it’s pitch dark”) in the glaring light. The lost key is picked up by Rodolfo who, instead of hiding it, shows it to Mimi and plays keep-away, although he later says, “Al buio non si trova” (“In the dark we won’t find it”). Huh? Standing in brilliant white light, he inexplicably tells her that soon there will be moonlight, and then they will have enough light to look for the key again. This touching scene in which Mimi and Rodolfo fall in love was diminished by this directorial sloppiness, but is unfailingly right when it is done the way Puccini intended.

The set changes in the pauses between acts with the curtain up were extremely awkward. If you are going to change the set before our eyes, it should provide a magical transition from one setting to another which enhances the pace of the drama. These bumbling and ponderous changes felt more like a first walk-through rehearsal in a warehouse where the sets were still under construction and the technical demands haven’t been entirely resolved.

The Act Two set, with a suddenly faithful representation of the beautiful covered passages in Paris, was attractive and could have worked, but it was so far down stage, it cramped everyone, soloists and chorus, into a nineteenth century mosh pit. The jolly chaos of Christmas Eve never settled down enough to be able to find the main characters among the crowd, and since there was no room for the children to cavort, they formed a formal chorus line. Consequently, their mother’s anger at their unruliness made no sense. Typical of directors who don’t trust the material or understand the music, the stage was filled with frenetic and meaningless carrying-on. Oh sure, that may be more true to life, but it was distracting. It might be forgiven, but when things needed to be real, they usually weren’t.

Segue in another awkward transition from the street scene to the interior of the Café Momus, full of distracting and upstaging patrons and waiters. When the audience can’t find the principal singers in this scene, something is rotten in Paris.

Enter Musetta. She sees her former lover Marcello at the adjoining table and, being bored with her current old and stuffy patron, decides to win Marcello back. This can be played a lot of ways, but sloppy drunk isn’t one of them. The famous waltz song is already sexy and provocative. Musetta definitely does not become sexier by making her drunk, and the goofy-happy-dance when singing “Felice mi fa” was like a scene from a sit-com. Throw in a few cheap tricks for laughs and shock value and the reunion of the two lovers, which normally is so warmly welcomed that the music is covered up for a page or so by applause, was a messy let-down.

The snow which fell almost all night long was pretty, but other than that, the Third Act was ugly. The tavern looked more like the guard house at the Barrièr d’Enfer, which must have been off stage, as it could not be seen. But the back of the garret/barn apartment was strangely visible, as were overhead lights which shined in the audience’s eyes, again making the production look as though it was still in rehearsal. Every touching moment in this act was sabotaged by the stage direction, such as when Mimi and Rodolfo agree they must break-up, but that they will wait for spring. Mimi sings, “Vorrei che eterno durasse il verno” (“I wish winter would last forever”) in a moment which is often more heart-rending than Mimi’s death in Act Four. Inexplicably, Mimi aimlessly walked away from Rodolfo while singing this. No matter, they were upstaged anyway by Musetta, pondering her next move after having been thrown out by Marcello.

Back in the barn - err - garret for the final act, it is supposed to be a bright sunny day outside, so the blazing light didn’t seem quite so out of place. Rodolfo and Marcello’s duet reminiscing about their lost loves was almost touching. The two sounded good together, and taking places at opposite sides of the barn underscored their feelings of loss and loneliness. For once, by not imposing his “concept”, Mr. Jones managed not to ruin a beautifully sung moment.

However, Mr. Jones couldn’t resist keeping his hands off that which followed. Puccini specifies a spoof of classical dancing and a mock sword fight among the four Bohemians. It is almost always hilariously funny, but if you have a better idea than the always entertaining dancing and mock sword fight, bring it on! Doodling undecipherable graffiti on the walls was not one. Similarly, swinging around on the stove pipe of a wood burning stove is never a good idea. If you’ve ever seen one, you’d know that the pipe would be likely to fall into pieces, you would be covered in soot and it might even be dangerously hot, especially if it had just contained a fire, as in Act I. Propping a pillow against the sharp corner of the stove to serve as Mimi’s deathbed in Act IV was the limit. Maybe the director was making some sort of statement. Who cares? Get a bed or a chaise up there so that Mimi and Rodolfo don’t have to flop and flail about on the floor like a couple of fish out of water. The scene was just plain ugly.

The heart of any opera is when the music tells the story more plainly than the words. This must never be ignored. At the moment when Rodolfo and Mimi are finally left alone together and the tender reprise of “O soave funciulla” swells to the sweet cadence, “Ah! tu sol comandi amor”, this director had the lovers on opposite sides of the stage and absolutely nothing was going on between them. Yes, most directors do it very traditionally, but that’s because it works, and Mimi and Rodolfo hold each other again, just as they did the night they first met.

Similarly, the exact moment when Mimi dies is clearly expressed in the music. Mr. Jones decided that this was completely unnecessary and then chose to ignore Puccini’s following directions. Schaunard was nowhere near Mimi to notice that she was dead, so how could he tell Marcello? Yet Rodolfo was seated on the stove right next to her head and didn’t notice. It is possible that there are people in the world that can’t handle the death of a friend, or of a friend’s lover, but when Rodolfo discovered that Mimi is dead, it is beyond imagination why Schaunard and Colline bolted out the room in terror.

There wasn’t a moist eye in the house.

Performances continue through October 20, 2018, and again January 10 through 25, 2019. Call the Lyric at 312.827.5600 or visit www.lyricopera.org for tickets, if you are curious about this strange production. But please don’t bring your friends who have never seen an opera before.

Having been close with many people with disabilities over the course of my life, I’m often hesitant when it comes to media about such individuals. Too often, books or films or plays dealing with disabilities end up being either demeaning to the folks who have them or cloying and saccharine to the audience. Earlier in this young millennium, I was thrilled to find and read Mark Haddon’s novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a rare tale that falls into neither of these traps. Haddon’s novel became a favorite of mine, its important-sounding title (taken from a line in a Sherlock Holmes story) hinting at the very big steps taken by its protagonist and narrator, a British teen afflicted with autism. And now I can say that the Steppenwolf Theatre’s current stage production based on the novel has become one of the best shows I’ve seen — this year or any other, in Chicago or elsewhere.

In the role of Christopher, said protagonist, is Terry Bell in his first Steppenwolf production. The key to Bell inhabiting the role of Christopher isn’t that he makes the boy’s Britishness real any more than that he realistically portrays autism. No, Bell’s performance is stunning in that he makes Christopher human. While tics and traits are given to the lad, it’s the vulnerability, intellect, and emotion that Bell gives Christopher that made him so real, so human. This was an actual person I saw up there, not a type or a trope or a character. Whether Christopher is doing math, navigating London, fighting with his father, or reading long-lost letters, he is a real boy, not just someone up on a stage.

The rest of the Steppenwolf cast take their duty of realism just as seriously. Cedric Mays plays Christopher’s father as a loving but over-extended parent doing his best to raise his boy. Rebecca Spence, as Christopher’s mother, is heartbreaking as the broken woman who finally felt she couldn’t.

One of my biggest concerns coming into the play was how the first-person narration of the novel would translate to the stage. Would the audience be submitted to one character’s constant exposition? How would Christopher’s story work? Well, thanks to the shining performance of Caroline Neff as Siobhan, Christopher’s schoolteacher, I needn’t have worried. Neff acts as narrator for much of the play, while also acting the part of a nurturing and knowledgeable caregiver for Christopher. If only all children, regardless of their disabilities or lack thereof, could have as loving and caring a teacher as the one Neff has created.

And, as the production has been tailored not just to standard audiences, but to those who share Christopher’s disabilities (and abilities!), with information on the novel and play’s background provided, with discussions led by the cast, and even with accommodating and accessible performances for anyone to enjoy, I can tell you that not only is this a caring play onstage, but beyond the stage, as well.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is being performed at Steppenwolf Theatre through October 27th. For more information, please visit www.steppenwolf.org.

Everybody has a favorite guitar player…well, almost everyone. We have those licks we learned from our favorites. That’s how we get a vocabulary of ideas. For me, I have gone through phases. I played along with recordings of people like Stevie Ray Vaughan and The Allman Brothers Band. That gave me a good foundation in lead guitar.

The only problem with this scenario is you only end up stealing ideas from other guitar players. Since we play with our fingers, we fall into convenient patterns that fall nicely on the fingerboard of the guitar neck. You end up playing via muscle memory a lot of the time. This becomes almost like a reflex to spew your favorite licks out again and again. You end up repeating yourself.

Lately, I have been listening to a lot of Jazz. However, I have not been listening to that much in the form of Jazz guitar. What or should I say who have I been listening to? Horn players for one. They play melodies. Guitar players do too, but again we fall into patterns. A lot of these are the same ideas recycled. The other issue is most guitar players have no formal music education.

Most guitar players don’t read a note. They learn from their friends, videos and magazines. Some take lessons but even that has limitations if the teacher is essentially uneducated. Horn players know how to read for the most part. They struggle through beginning clarinet books starting sometime in grade school. Those books are written by people who understand music. Horn players learn intelligent musical phrases, so they play intelligent musical phrases.

Another instrument to listen to is piano. The average piano player has a chord vocabulary that exceeds most really good guitar players. They understand harmony. Unless, you go past the basic chords on the guitar, there are limitations. Part of this also is due to the tuning of the guitar. Some voicings are extremely difficult on the fingerboard. Having said that, you can still learn how to play hipper chords than you find in the guitar books some of us started out with.

Drummers can point you in another direction regarding rhythm. Most us can’t even count bar lines, myself included sometimes. This is important! Where is one? If you don’t know, learn!!! All playing music actually requires is the right notes at the right time. That’s it! Rhythm is 50% of that equation, and at times even more. You can actually get a lot of cool rhythmic ideas from piano players too.

Now, this sounds like I am bashing my favorite instrument and its players. I am not! I am simply stating facts here. Listening to other instruments just might help you find your voice on the guitar. Another concept to explore is actually playing another instrument. Drop me a line if you like, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Until next month, ciao.  

Before the curtain rose for the start of the Oriental Theatre’s current traveling production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the sole image onstage was a giant silhouette of the character most associated with the beloved tale — a tale told in Roald Dahl’s original novel, in two Hollywood films, and of course now as a Broadway musical — Willy Wonka. Said character, having been famously portrayed by famous folks Johnny Depp and Gene Wilder, has not only long coopted this story of a young boy and a visit to a confectionary facility, but even its title in the Wilder movie. That being said, this tendency to focus on Willy Wonka detracts from what is Wonka’s magical Chocolate Factory and the oddballs and delights within.

So, when the curtain did rise and this particular production began, I was happy to see that it lovingly focuses on Wonka’s whole world. Don’t get me wrong — Noah Weisberg is just fine as Willy Wonka. I told my daughter at intermission that I thought he was perhaps too understated, as I’ve come to expect an overbearing Wonka. That changed a bit in the second act, as Weisberg reminded me a bit of some of Groucho Marx’s Rufus T. Firefly or Captain Spaulding, with his witty asides and exaggerated pacing and prancing. But overall Weisberg stayed out of the way and let the set and his castmates shine.

Henry Boshart is charming as the titular Charlie, providing that rare but happy balance in a child actor that is neither too precocious and polished, nor too amateur. I’d be curious to see how the other two Charlies in this traveling show do, but Boshart does a fine job. His chemistry with James Young’s cuddly yet curmudgeonly Grandpa Joe seems real, as does his connection with Weisberg’s Wonka.

The rest of the cast, however, are allotted the real fun. Jessica Cohen is a Russian Veruca Salt (her father a timely oligarch played by Nathaniel Hackmann), and puts her background as a ballerina to use as she pirouettes and pouts all over the stage. Also timely is Brynn Williams’ social media star, Violet Beauregarde, who’s afforded a dance number of her own. Daniel Quadrino’s Mike Teavee is a modern take on Dahl’s character — an ADHD kid fed a steady diet of screentime and pills from his harried mother. My favorite golden ticket winner was Matt Wood as gluttonous German youngster Augustus Gloop.

But it’s this production’s ensemble that push Augustus and the rest over the top, whether accompanying his polka in leiderhosen and beerhall maid outfits, breaking it down as Violet’s flygirls, or putting on a ballet clinic clad in furry squirrel outfits as bad nut Veruca meets her fate in the Wonka factory’s nut-sorting room. These unsung singers and dancers bring Wonka’s world to life, making it a shiny magical place just as much as the production’s set designers do.

And that set…my daughter, a bit of a set designer her own young self, was amazed at the ingenuity on display at the Oriental. The stacked bed and bedraggled shack where Charlie and the rest of the Bucket family lives. The gates to the chocolate factory. The TV world where Mike Teavee meets his fate. And the Oompa Loompas…

I won’t spoil it, but the portrayal of Wonka’s staff is modern, both in its consideration and its execution. Again, what a set and what an ensemble!

So, if you want a new take on an old favorite, a candy confection, a loving and overall satisfying take on the people and places who’ve done as much as chocolate bars to make Willy Wonka’s name, head to the Oriental Theatre for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, now through October 21.

When I heard the Charlie Hunter Trio was playing Chicago’s City Winery over this past weekend, I expected something quite different. I was thinking I’d hear the usual fare of guitar, bass and drums – standard trio stuff. Meanwhile, I was sitting with someone that told me to expect guitar, sax and drums. Okay, sounds good. But what we got was guitar, VOCALS and drums. Interesting. I was also expecting something more in the Jazz vein, but I was wrong on that, too. I know what you’re thinking...Jazz has many forms. The Charlie Hunter Trio was a bit more like R&B - and heavily Blues flavored at times.

Hunter does a good job of making you not missing the fact there is no bass player. The first thing I noticed was he had bass notes coming out the guitar. It was a seven-string, but it seemed to get notes lower than that, so perhaps the bass string was tuned down a bit. Then I noticed he was running through two amps. One is a bass amp and one is for guitar. This made me look up his rig rundown today and I discovered that the bottom three strings on his guitar are bass strings, and the top four are guitar strings. There are two pickups on the instrument that allow splitting the bass and guitar strings into separate amps.

This allows a player to do different things. The first and most obvious is playing bass and guitar at the same time. The second is it allows someone to think like a piano player on the guitar. I have had the notion for quite some time that guitar represents the right hand of the piano and the bass the left. This allows a guitar player to do both. You don’t just pick a guitar like this up and start strumming chords on it. This is a bit of a hybrid machine and requires the technical facility to pull the whole thing off. Hunter did an amazing job in doing this. I can imagine at times he wished he had more fingers.

Dara Tucker was the vocalist and she really brought a lot of life to the show. In many ways, Hunter was her support act. Her voice was nothing less than amazing and was a perfect fit with the trio. I later found out she has music available on her own. Damon Grant was Hunter’s rhythmic accomplice on percussion. A very unconventional drummer. He used all different types of percussion to keep the beat alive.

This was not the band I was expecting to see, which taught me a few things. First, keep an open mind about how bands are constructed. Second, that the guitar can be more than just a guitar. In the hands of Hunter, it was much more. I was not disappointed last night one bit. Great show, and it is one I highly recommend, and should they come back – no better place to check them out than City Winery Chicago.

Ask yourself, do you have hope that things can get better? The word itself certainly echoes back to a different political climate in America. Now it seems the very word has been replaced with fear. Jen Silverman’s new play ‘Witch’ is holding its world premiere at Writers Theatre in Glencoe. It’s an update on a seventeenth century tragicomedy but don’t let that fool you, this play has a lot to say about our modern world.

Directed by Marti Lyons, ‘Witch’ tells the tale of the devil coming to a small village. Like all plays concerning Satan, the devil is after souls in exchange for worldly goods or successes of some kind. Ryan Hallahan plays Scratch, one of the devil’s henchman. His wile body language and delivery make him a slick salesman for the master of dark desires. For the villagers already lacking good morals, his pitch is an easy sell. He quickly pits the son of the richest man in town, Cuddy Banks (Steve Haggard) against an ambitious interloper Frank Thorney (Jon Hudson Odom) in a battle for inheritance and land.

This arc serves as the main driver of plot in this 90-minute play but the real meat lies in the battle between Scratch and the town outcast, or witch, Elizabeth Sawyer (Audrey Francis). Elizabeth begins the play with a monologue that asks about hope and explains the mundane cruelties we commit against one another. Francis is captivating. The character is sarcastic and dry. Silverman’s dialogue flows perfectly through Francis’ performance and her emotional reckoning brings about one of the play’s most powerful moments.

Finally, a play about witches that isn’t ‘The Crucible’. Silverman’s script is a lot of fun. It gets to mingle in the 1600s but enjoy the freedom and accessibility of modern dialogue. The contrast is purposeful, asking the audience, has anything really changed? Whether the play is optimistic or pessimistic is really up to the viewers’ interpretation. Either way, there are a lot of laughs here that in the end build to a greater philosophical question. Is change possible or do we have to just start over again from scratch?

If it’s something spooky you’re after, ‘Witch’ will scratch your itch. Though not really a horror story, the intricate production design by Yu Shibagaki gets into the Halloween spirit. Even with the devil, and a supposed witch, this play isn’t really about the supernatural. Rather, it relies on human meanness as the haunting theme, and honestly what’s scarier than that?

Through December 16 at Writers Theatre 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe. 847-242-6000