Items filtered by date: November 2007

This Halloween season the Rough House Theater brings a very different haunted house experience to the Chopin Theatre. Written by Mark Maxwell and Clara Saxe, under the direction of Mike Oleon, The Silence in Harrow House is an updated version of last year’s production called The Walls of Harrow House, but with new puppets and new stories. 

The creators of the show take us on a self-guided tour of the house of a reclusive architect Milton Harrow, who has some bizarre experimental ideas of the world and what it should look like. His house is inhabited by hideously disfigured life-size mutants. They lurk in corners and tiny enclosures, slowly making their appearances; they make scary sounds and communicate messages to visitors (the audience), who are encouraged to wander around the space and interact with the creatures. All of the residents of the house, including the host, are portrayed by monstrous puppets animated by the actors (puppet design by Grace Needlman). Masked and dressed in all black, the puppeteers are nearly invisible, but for the sake of entertainment, it’s helpful to completely ignore them during the show.  

The show starts out pretty mellow, but the intensity does pick up half-way through, as the music gets creepier and creatures’ loud screams and banning get louder. Cool music and awesome sound effects (sound design by Corey Smith) intensify to unnerving levels at times, and prove a great tool that could’ve been utilized even more, as it has great potential to frighten the audience. I wouldn’t mind, really, it is a haunted house after all! But it is a fun show, and definitely worth checking out. With stunning puppet crafting by Vincent Adler, Anna Ogilvie and Severed Hand and masterful puppeteering by Felix Mayesand Lucia Mier, The Silence in Harrow House is being performed at Chopin Theatre through November 10th.  

The late British playwright Peter Shaffer broke into new and radical territory with Equus. First produced in 1974 (and based loosely on a true event), the play tells of a grotesque crime by a teenaged boy, Alan Strang (Sean William Kelley is excellent) who put out the eyes of six horses in a stable. Strang is given a purposeful but extended nude scene, and presents us with his religio-erotic (though not sexual) relationship with horses. It tends to sell a lot of tickets.

Shaffer, who rose to even greater fame for his 1979 Amadeus – both a hit play and movie - was masterful in crafting “thinking” works. In Equus, he gives us the character of Alan's therapist Martin Dysart (Rian Jairell brings an understanding of the role), a figure struggling through his own dark night of the soul. Dysart feels he is on a treadmill, only healing young people who, as they "normalize," lose some of the magical and imaginative qualities that also drive their aberrant behaviors. 

That is particularly the case with Alan, who has developed an emotional fetish for horses in a Dionysian merger of the sexual and spiritual. But following the horrifying incident (it is shown as a recalled memory only at the end of the play), Alan is withdrawn, nearly catatonic, staring at the television, babbling advertising jingles, with difficulty relating or, understandably, recounting the event. A court magistrate, Hesther Salomon (Alexandra Bennett), brings the bizarre case to child psychologist Dysart, who must unravel what led the boy to his heinous act, and try to heal him.

But as he unwraps Alan's psyche, Dysart increasingly regrets his own station in life. “This is more than professional menopause,” Dysart complains to Hesther. "I'm jealous of Alan Strang. Such a fantastic surrender to the primitive!" 

Hesther's character as a fellow professional allows the two to comment for the audience’s benefit on the progress of the case. Dysart also looks for clues in the tensions between Alan’s parents, the excessively religious mother Dora Strang (Julie Partyka) and his austere atheist father Frank Strang (Robert Tobin).

AstonRep has given this production of Equus at The Edge Theatre much of the power that must have made the original so notable – using choreography and stylized puppetry (Jeremiah Barr) - with imposing horse masks on six players. As Dysart painstakingly works to get Alan Strang to open up, we learn of the boy's history working with horses, his love for them, and Alan re-enacts scenes with his favorite horse - Nugget – very well played by Jordan Pokorney who doubles as the stablemaster, Horseman.

In a notable scene, Alan mounts Nugget for a midnight ride on his beloved animal. And gradually, using hypnois and other therapeutic techniques, Dysart reveals Alan's skewed and rather sexualized worship of Nugget, who in Alan’s mind transforms to a horse god, Equus. Some of the therapeutic descriptions Dysart gives to Hesther sound a little dated, or even a bit offhand. Dysart uses the term "abreaction," something that dates back to Freudian psycholanalysis and is less current today. In describing his plans to trick Alan into deeper revelations, he sounds almost unprofessional by today's standards. 

There is an intensity and earnestness in the performances in this Equus – but director Derek Bertelsen needs to help the actors play off one another a little more, Instead, each actor plays for himself – though sometimes to good effect. Sean William Kelly as Alan Strang is a protrait of youthful estrangment, so his lack of chemistry with Dysart almmost makes sense - but seems unlikely in therapy. Alan's young love interest Jill Mason (Malia Hu) makes a good match with a nice frisson. By contrast, in scenes with Dysart it is as though the actors are in two different plays. 

Julie Partyka is compelling as Alan's mother Dora. “I’m a parent. We gave him the best we could. Whatever has happened has happened because Allen is ’him.’ He is not just the sum of us added up. The devil isn’t what mommy said or daddy said."

Where this Equus stumbles – and perhaps it was just the performance I saw - was in hearing and understanding the power of Martin Dysart’s internal struggle. Jairell gave us a rushed, and consequently somewhat monochromatic delivery. Even more so for Hesther Salomon – Bennett sometimes talked over the ends of Jairell’s sentences.

Because Dysart is so essential, I would love to see the language slowed down just a bit. Regardless, Equus is highly recommended for the quality of this production, and for a chance to see this ineffable work by a dramatic master. Equus runs through October 27 at The Edge Theatre, 5451 N. Broadway in Chicago.

So, remember a while back, when I took my kindergarten daughter with me to review the American Girl Doll Musical? No? Well, I wish I didn’t remember it, either. But I do. And I learned two lessons from it in the time since.

First, before the show started, my daughter was just as delighted to take her doll Violet, who is the Target-brand version of an American Girl doll, to see the American Girl Doll Store across the way. While there, I heard a girl in the store point out that Violet wasn’t a real American Girl doll, to which my daughter just shrugged and gave Violet a hug and told her she loved her. And right then I realized I love my little girl for being that kind of person who loves something unconditionally, warts and all. Maybe I’ve done something right.

And the second thing I learned that night was, as soon as I walked into that theater, I realized I’d done something very, very wrong. I wasn’t the target audience. But my daughter and all the other little girls in the seats were the target audience, and they were thrilled and delighted and entertained by what this old man thought was a bunch of snake-oil-salesmanship.

I was reminded of that second lesson this past Friday evening at the opening of the Factory Theater’s Oh Sh#t! It’s Haunted! I wasn’t the target audience. Nope. The target audience is indeed an old man, but an actual old man (I just play one here on the internet and after 8pm on weeknights). And he’s an old man from Chicago, which I’m not. And he’s an old Chicagoan who’s Polish and likes jokes about Polish stuff and likes Peter Cetera and likes jokes about Peter Cetera. That guy is the Oh Sh#t! It’s Haunted! target audience, I thought as I sat there, unsmiling, wondering when the Scooby-Doo spoof I’d been expecting was going to yank the mask off and reveal itself.

But then I looked around at everyone else there — the Factory’s cozy stage and cozier seating makes for the audience being as intimate with one another as they are the actors who I worried would trip over the feet of the folks in the front row — and I noticed that a good portion of them — all ages, all backgrounds — were cracking up and having a blast.

A big reason for that was that the cast seemed to be having a blast, especially Timothy C. Amos, who played Pa Aldrichzewski, the very kind of dad-joke-telling, kielbasa-chomping, Peter-Cetera-namedropping Chicago old guy who I pictured as the target audience. Christy Arington played Pa’s wife, Ma, and the two of them would be perfect for some kind of 1970s Polish Good Times or All in the Family or something. They looked their parts, too, thanks to Rachel Sypniewski’s costuming (she also nailed 50s sweetheart looks for Jose Cervantes and Raven Nichole, and a ghostly Jimi Hendrix played by Michael Jones). This was a total night for character actors, with Eric Frederickson’s looming Peter Jasonczevik landing somewhere between a spook and an Eastern European villain you’d see being dispatched on the big screen by James Bond or Liam Neeson or Keanu Reeves, and Stacie Barra’s needle-nosed, preening, scoffing real estate villainess stealing any scene she strutted into.

So, yeah, I get that the enthusiastic and eager cast earned both the audience’s attention and admiration, but I guess it was the play itself I just didn’t get. There were some Scooby-riffic music cues, and a haunted house and a ghost story and a gang, I guess, in there somewhere, too. But I guess I just wasn’t the target audience for what the Factory’s ensemble was trying to do with Scott OKen’s play. Apparently, most of the rest of the crowd was, leaving me remembering the first lesson I learned way back on my American Girl evening — maybe they’re all the understanding, accepting, loving little girls who can love something warts and all, while I’m the prissy little sourpuss pointing out those warts. In that case, if you enjoy humor that leans toward Chicago (the land and Peter Cetera’s band) and the Polish, then you just might enjoy Factory Theater’s Oh Sh#t! It’s Haunted!, running through November 9. If not, then maybe join me and the rest of the party poopers while we watch some old Scooby-Doo reruns, so long as it’s before 8pm.

When you arrive at Windy City Playhouse South for Every Brilliant Thing, you will be ushered into an elevator and emerge at the third floor loft theater entrance.

There a young woman greets you at a display case. Somehow, she seems to be in character already. In fact you will soon learn that this is not the house staff, but an actor, Rebecca Spence, and she is indeed already performing her role as Narrator. But Spence does much more than play this demanding role, one that stretches the definition of scripted performance.

Watching Spence (and unfamiliar with the play) I left completely convinced she had authored Every Brilliant Thing as a performance piece based on her own life. In fact, Every Brilliant Thing, written in 1984 by British playwright Duncan Macmillan, had a successful Broadway run, and was filmed for HBO.

It tells the story of a young adult (it has been played by men and women) whose mother veered into deep depressive episodes, eventually taking her own life. To contend with this, Narrator – who relates tales from elementary school, high school, college and adulthood – sought to create uplifting lists of “every brilliant thing” (puppies, rainbows, songs by Sarah Vaughan, etc.).

As a schoolgirl Narrator offered her first list of 300 items to boost her mother's spirits. As Narrator ages, the list grows from hundreds to thousands, and includes age-appropriate items. Eventually we realize she is keeping the list as her own coping mechanism to fend off adversity, as when her mother meets her end, or when Narrator's husband leaves her.

In keeping with Windy City Playhouse's immersive theatrics, Every Brilliant Thing has the Narrator involve the audience, choosing for each a “brilliant thing” from a collection in the display case that she deems is suitable to them. Seated in black leather club chairs, the each person is called on to read a word, phrase or long descriptor when Narrator calls out an associated number attached to the object they hold.

But Narrator goes even further – designating audience members to play key roles in the show, sometimes they follow her lead by reciting lines she dictates. Spence showed great insight in her selections of audience performers to play characters that Narrator met along her life’s path: a veterinarian, her father, a high school counselor, a girlfriend, a young man whom she marries and separates from.

That last one, a good looking dark haired man, gamely played through flirtatious library encounters, betrothal, wedding, and separation. The audience performer who played the high school counselor who good naturedly removed his shoe to turn his sock to a hand puppet - which he named "Trouble" to the delight of Spence and the audience.

Despite the dynamically constructed script, Every Brilliant Thing manages to have a dramatic arc, and a poignant storyline with touching moments, and a bottom line. "It occurred to me how much the list changed how I see the world along the way," says the Narrator.

With director Jessica Fisch, and the properties designer Eric Backus, Spence must be given great credit for managing the audience member performances. Given the ups and downs of attendance, it's hard to predict exactly what your experience of Every Brilliant Thing will be like - but with Spence in this role, I bet it will be good. Every Brilliant Thing runs through December 15 at Windy City Playhouse South in the Automobile Row District, 2229 S. Michigan Avenue in Chicago.

Is love a commodity? Ibsen’s enduring drama “A Doll’s House” has asked audiences for over a century. Writers Theatre unveils a new 90 minute pared-down adaptation penned by Sandra Delgado and directed by Lavina Jadhwani. 

“A Doll’s House” is one of Ibsen’s most known plays. It tells the story of a society woman, Nora (Cher Alvarez) and her struggles with money. Her husband Torvald (Greg Matthew Anderson) patronizes her like she’s one of the children, as long as she plays the happy wife. All seems joyful until a childhood friend, Christine (Tiffany Renee Johnson), comes to ask a favor. Nora, though docile, has her own secrets and when a debt comes due, she must act in order to protect her husband’s reputation. 

Ibsen and Chekhov make some theatre-goers groan. Classic theatre can often be a long evening, but Delgado takes the lengthy work and shortens it down to a one-act without intermission. Her script begs the question, is that necessary? Translations can make all the difference in how we perceive classic works of literature. One translation can vastly differ from another and their authors are usually long dead. It’s hard to say if their intentions translate. In the case of Writer’s adaption of “A Doll’s House” it somewhat misses the mark. 

Performances are good, but they overshadow a wooden script. There’s a degree of inconsistency from line to line. Some dialogue is perfectly modern while other parts seem like a more literal word for word translation that leaves out most of the passion. Unfortunately streamlining this script for a 90-minute run time edited out the poetry, or any memorable strands of dialogue for that matter. This production feels more like a SparkNotes summary of the original rather than an adaptation. 

Cher Alvarez’s Nora is the heart and soul of this production. She breathes life into the clunky dialogue and by the end she’s the only character to elicit much emotional response from the audience. Her performance serves as the depth that’s missing from Delgado’s script. Greg Matthew Anderson as the doting husband Torvald, adds dimension to the character who is otherwise pretty flat. Which is just the issue here, it’s as if the playwright wrote caricatures of Ibsen characters in order to shift the focus toward a grander point about loveless marriages. That point never really solidifies and it’s up to the audience to decide what Ibsen’s intentions were. 

There’s been a renewed interest in this classic as Lucas Hnath’s Broadway smash hit “A Doll’s House Part 2” (2017) is one of the most produced plays in America right now. And there’s good reason, it’s a great modern take on the themes originally explored by Ibsen. There’s an edge to his sort of sequel. There’s no edge in this current production at Writers Theatre. For Ibsen purists, this production will be disappointing but those with a tepid interest will be rewarded by the short run time and outstanding performances. 

Through December 15 at Writers Theatre - 321 Tudor Court, Glencoe. 847-242-6000

Many operas are funny, but laugh out loud funny is harder to achieve. Lyric Opera opens the season with the ever-crowd pleasing commedia “The Barber of Seville”. Tara Faircloth directs this revival which first appeared at Lyric in the 2013/14 season. This production’s humor comes from an all-star cast of world renown voices and actors.

“The Barber of Seville” is an Italian opera by Gioachino Rossini with a libretto by Cesare Sterbini, from the original play by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. In it, Count Almaviva falls for a Doctor’s young ward, Rosina. Doctor Bartolo plans to marry Rosina himself in order to gain her dowry. Through a series of goofy antics, Count Almaviva proves his love for Rosina and gains her love in return. With the help of a charming barber Figaro (yes, that Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!), the two trick Dr Bartolo in order to end up together.

Premiering in 1816 in Rome, “The Barber of Seville” was an instant classic. It remains one of the world’s most endearing operas and with this Lyric production it’s not hard to see why. Full of soaring orchestration and lighthearted arias, “The Barber of Seville” is a delightful romantic comedy.  Theatre director Rob Ashford was tapped to create this production for Lyric in 2013. His Broadway background lends a more traditional theatrical style to the performances, putting an emphasis on the physical comedy of the opera.

In the role of Rosina, Lyric welcomes back Marianne Crebassa who was last seen in the Mozart comedy “Cosi fan tutte” in 2018. If one had to sum up her entire performance in a single gesture, it would be a wiggling foot while being passionately kissed by Count Almafina. A knack for well-executed and unexpected physical comedy seems to be her second strongest suit. The first would be the incredible mezzo-soprano voice. The stage brightens when she enters a scene. There are fewer female voices in this opera, but Mathilda Edge as Berta also has great comedic timing and an impressive soprano voice.

The male ensemble is just as humorous. Adam Plachetka as Figaro has all the cartoonish machismo one would expect of the character, but a voice that backs it up. Though most of the laughs came from the deceived Dr. Bartolo played by Alessandro Corbelli. Lyric’s “Barber of Seville” makes for a lovely evening at the opera. Sumptuous costumes and staging are a feast for the senses, but it’s the Rossini music that really shines. It’s always a treat in any opera when there’s a large chorus on stage (and a real measure of an opera company’s financial standing). Lyric underdoes nothing. From the pit to the upper balconies, "The Barber of Seville" fills the theater with enchantment.

Through October 27th at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

Booming thunder unleashed by a violent storm marks a scene change in King Hedley II, the sound and fury expressing the clash of deep emotional confrontations playing out as the stage goes to black.

Under the direction of Ron OJ Parson, Court Theatre gives us what is surely a definitive rendition of August Wilson’s 2000 play.

Wilson gives vivid voice to the life of his African American characters, showing them hemmed in and struggling for opportunity accorded readily to others. In King Hedley’s 1980s setting, amid trickle down economics, Americans saw greater divides between rich and poor, and rising mass incarceration. And against this backdrop, Wilson’s characters live life – with all its glory, and all its monumental tragedy, which abounds in the play.

In King Hedley II, the action takes place in 1985 in the backyards of two modest brick homes. Following five years in prison, Hedley (Kelvin Roston Jr.) returns to the home where his aunt raised him, optimistic, and aiming to rebuild his life. He plans to marry Tonya (Kierra Bunch). His aunt died while he was away, and his birth mother Ruby (actress Taylar) is now living in the house.

Hedley plants flower seeds, a perfect metaphor for his aspirations to reclaim his life, then struggles to stop others from trampling his young plants, and dragging him down with pessimism. His mother warns him the soil is too weak. Tonya, already a single mom, rebuffs Hedley’s overtures.

“I got to make it whatever way I can,” says Hedley (Kelvin Roston Jr.). “I look around and say 'Where's the barbed wire?”
“You could cut through barbed wire,” says Mister (Donald L. Conner). “But you can’t cut through not having a job.”

The ninth in Wilson’s ten-part Pittsburgh Cycle, each play takes place in that city, and each in a different decade. A Pulitzer finalist, it earned Viola Davis a Tony in its original Broadway run. I had the chance to see it in 2001 at Goodman Theatre, and barely understood what I watched then.

But at Court I threw down my program and leapt to my feet to cheer and applaud, like the rest of the audience, even before the final spotlight ended. It is that good, and hopefully we the people are better audiences for Wilson than 20 years ago. 

Though August's womenfolk are more guarded than optimistic, there is a hopefulness brought to Hedley by his buddy Mister, who works in a nail factory. Characteristically, Mister is hoping for a raise, that never materializes, even though business is booming. Hedley is in line to work on a demolition job for the City of Pittsburgh, but his employer (presumed to be African American) was denied the contract because the bid was too low, and the city doubted his capabilities.

Hedley and Mister devise side jobs, including re-selling refrigerators and, as opportunities narrow, plan a heist at a jewelry store. The plan and execution will remind you of  David Mamet's American Buffalo.

Into this intriguing setting come two even more powerful dramatis personae: the neighbor Stool Pigeon (Dexter Zollicoffer), a quirky person who is a hoarder, and delivers thundering prophecies drawn in ominous tones from long Bible passages. 

The other arrival is Elmore (A.C. Smith), hoping to recapture his lost love Ruby, and aiming to unburden himself of a secret that Ruby wanted both of them to take to her grave. (No spoiler here.) 

Smith tears up the stage with his larger than life Elmore. But then so does Zollicoffer as Stool Pigeon, a haunting character impossible to forget. And Taylar, Conner and Bunch all deliver remarkably good performances. And Roston gives us a complex, and nuanced portrait of Hedley.  

Wilson, who died in 2005, loads his plays with high-octane dialog. These can be challenging to deliver, or watch – with extra hurdles in understanding the overtones for white people like me. Parsons, working with this great cast, keeps each performance in balance with the others.

This is no small achievement when you realize that any of these characters could be the main protagonist in any other play. And indeed some recur in other works in the Pittsburgh Cycle. Act I of King Hedley II runs 80 minutes; after a 10 minute intermission Act II runs 70 minutes. You will be amazed at how quickly the time passes. Highly recommended for those who like great performances, staging, and a complex play. See King Hedley II through October 13 at Court Theatre in Chicago.

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If you haven’t already made plans to see 'Hello Again' at Theo Ubique Cabaret Theatre, don’t wait another minute! Director/Choreographer Brenda Didlier’s reimagination of this 1993 off-Broadway musical.

The story is composed of 10 interwoven vignettes focusing on 10 love affairs portrayed in a frolicking, whimsical, lighthearted tone and yet layered in the heaviness of sadness, loneliness, and emotional emptiness.

Performed in the intimate cabaret setting where the cast and audience were close enough to touch added another layer of depth to the characters as they were able to perform in normal voice levels and eye level, making the connection between the characters and the audience members more real, intimate, and believable.

The love affairs take place throughout the 20th century, so the scenes and the musical numbers cover 100 year of musical styles, wardrobes and fashion, and historical events and lifestyles. Music Director/Conductor Jeremy Ramey and the orchestra produced the perfect mood as he helped us travel from New York City in 1900 to present with stop offs in a 1930’s movie house, a 1970’s disco, and even a stop on a luxury liner in 1912. The five-piece orchestra produced a full sound to fill the room when required but never drew us away from the characters. Costumes and sets were fast-changing and minimalist, but eye catching and definitely transformative with the changing timeline.

As for the stars of the show, I was delighted that the entire cast are the stars together. While each brought their strengths to their characters, they all complemented each other perfectly and each of the love affairs played an equally important part in the overarching story. Neala Barron’s (The Actress) and Christopher Ratiff’s (The Soldier), both Jeff Award nominees for 110 in the Shade (Boho), lend their strong vocals and acting skills to a very talented cast.

I certainly felt an emotional connection to several of the characters, specifically the Husband (Royen Kent), the Writer (Max J. Cervantes) and the Senator (Courtney Jones). All of the characters were very honest and relatable.

While all the scenes and numbers were exceptional as well, a couple of my favorites include the opening number “Hello Again” featuring the Whore (Megan Elk) and the Soldier (Ratliff), “The One I love” featuring the Young Thing (Marco Tzunux) and the Writer (Cervantes)and “The Bed Was Not My Own” featuring the Senator (Jones) and the Whore (Elk).

'Hello Again' continues at Theo Ubique through November 3, 2019. This is an excellent show which I highly recommend.

The immensely entertaining and surprisingly complex Bernhardt/Hamlet is a must-see at the Goodman Theatre. A hit at New York's Roundabout Theatre on Broadway last year, it’s very on-trend for contemporary feminist dramas playing out in sports, the workplace, and the arts.

It is also a rather delicious backstage drama, like The Dresser or Noises Off, but has more in common with Kiss Me Kate - another work that used Shakespeare as a plot point. In this case playwright Theresa Rebeck tells the story of Sarah Bernhardt (Terri McMahon) in her quest to play Hamlet – working against the odds, gender, and the advice of critics and colleagues.

"You cannot play Hamlet as an act of ego," says her paramour and devotee, playwright Edmond Rostand (John Tufts.) "All of theater is an act of ego," Bernhard counters, and the audience roars at the delivery and the truth of it. 

"A woman who does nothing is considered worthless," Bernhardt says at another point. "A man who does nothing is Hamlet!." 

And it's a true story that Rebeck makes gripping and fun. (Rebeck also wrote Seminar, a similarly language- and thought-centered work which I had the good fortune of seeing with Alan Rickman.)

In Bernhardt/Hamlet, director Donna Feore uses Rebeck’s script to show actors at work, mining Shakespeare for clues to character, struggling with motivation, and working assiduously to meet the demands of cadence and pace.

Much of the action takes place in Bernhardt’s Paris boudoir, where this attractive woman was waited upon by a coterie of fauning men. But the playful and exuberant Bernhardt never lets the under-fulfilled romance bother her, and Rebeck fends off melodrama by dropping in witty laugh bombs left and right.

"You've decided whether you'll like even before you have seen it," Rostand tells a theater reviewer, Louis Lamercier (William Dick). "Of course! I'm a critic!" Lamercier responds. More laughter. 

The Bernhardt character also takes men to task who would put her on a pedestal, but not really egage her mind. She excoriates playwright Rostand for writing the play, Cyrano de Bergerac, modeling his love interest Roxanne after Bernhardt. "How can you put all your genius into Cyrano and make Roxanne an empty vessel?" she asks. 

One also expects that a play about actors playing Hamlet might have some breakthrough moments of great Shakespeare. Be assured. Wise casting brings us two intensely good, full-fledged Shakespearean performers – as Sarah Bernhardt, Terri McMahon brings a bedrock of 23 years of performances at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, but has all the range for this dual role.

Larry Yando, in the role of Constant Coquelin, is that world-weary trouper who has played Hamlet four times, but has now aged into the roles of Polonius and Hamlet’s father – and imparts acting advice to the less experienced players. When he turns on the power, it is electrifying. The cast is so good, the production values so high, and the play so entertaining there is only one thing to say: go see it.

Bernhardt/Hamlet is also a familiar story of actresses everywhere, who lose their grasp on major roles for stage or screen as their youth fades. These days actresses like Nicole Kidman, Selma Hayek, and Emma Thompson are defying this by successfully producing projects or scripts themselves.

And so did Sarah Bernhardt, and she did it way back in 1896. One of the first international celebrities, she achieved her global fame in analog: acting on stage, celebrated in newspapers, and promoted by posters and by word of mouth.

She was also the most prominent serious actor, among a handful, who successfully took her stage skills to the new medium of film, in 1900. That’s where the collective memory of my generation picks up on her. During her last quarter century and after, the term “Sarah Bernhardt” suggested a cross between an immensely talented stage beauty, who was also a diva – in other words, she knows her power, and how to use it. 

This is the character we meet in Rebeck's play. As she hit fifty, Bernhardt tired of playing Camille, her signature role – and she knew she was too old for the part, so she decided to try Hamlet. A master of her own fate, in 1893 Bernhardt became the manager of the Théâtre de la Renaissance, and in 1899 she relocated to the former Théâtre des Nations, which she renamed the Théâtre Sarah Bernhardt and managed until her death in 1923. 

"I am not a tragic figure," Rebeck's Bernhardt asserts. "I do not play Hamlet as a woman. I play him as myself." And you can see Bernhardt/Hamlet through October 20 at Goodman Theatre.

In Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon, dolorous music accompanies the opening scene: a clearly debilitated woman is wheeled into her apartment, where she is eased into a bed in her main room. This is Paulina (Rebeca Alemán), and we see she is weak and tired.

Helping her is Rodrigo (Ramon Cámin) – we learn later he is a poet – and he methodically cares for her needs, clearly familiar with the routine tasks. Is she a stroke victim? We are not sure. He helps her practice her letters, then words and then pictures. The one-act play shows scene after scene, compressing an interval of two months into 90 minutes, as Paulina gradually recovers her ability to communicate, and more importantly, to understand, and the audience learns gradually with her as she recovers.

Paulina, it turns out, has suffered a traumatic head injury, blocking her memory. We discover she is a crusading journalist, spotlighting the heinous crimes of drug cartels that terrorize areas of Mexico. For this she was targeted for punishment. Steadfast Rodrigo is helping her regain her faculties, relating her past as she recovers her memory. We also have scenes in which multimedia presents memories from her daily life. 

The play is inspired by the true story of journalist Miroslava Breach Velducea, shot eight times and killed in Chihuahua, Mexico in 2017 as she was leaving home in her car, accompanied by one of her children. Breach covered politics and crime. A note found at the scene of the murder read: "For being a snitch. You're next, governor.--The 80,” the pseudonym of Arturo Quintana, who allegedly leads a criminal gang associated with the organized crime syndicate known as La Línea in the area. 

Aleman, an Argentine-born actor, delivers an exceptional performance...showing us with a seamless gradualness the recovery of a wounded individual. We also ponder the tragic agony of a recovery that brings with a punishing awareness – in the play, it takes weeks for Paulina to realize that she does not know where her mother and daughter are. These are powerful moments onstage.

We also share a wonderful opportunity to witness the universal nature of good acting, a craft that transcends cultural and language barriers. The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon, playing at Steppenwolf Theatre 1700, is directed by Iraida Tapias, and is being presented by Chicago Latino Theater Alliance as part of Destinos, the 3rd Chicago International Latino Theater Festival.

While Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon has political currency, it is also moving on a level of human drama. Alemán’s performance is exceptional – she also teaches acting through the Chicago-and-Caracas-based Water People Theater group. But the play itself suffers from requiring so much exposition to tell the story points, a drudgery that falls mostly to Rodrigo’s character. To make the play reach more audiences, it is delivered at the 1700 in English with Spanish supertitles – which is helpful even for English speakers. But it takes some unraveling for English speakers, anyway, to unravel what is happening on stage.

The Water People Theater relocated to Chicago from New York in 2012, though it continues working in Venezuela. Last year it received eight Chicago ALTA Awards nominations in 2018. In 2018, it presented MUSES, a fictional and extraordinary encounter between Mexican painter Frida Kahlo and American poet Sylvia Plath. Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon runs through October 13 at the Steppenwolf Theatre 1700 in Chicago.