Items filtered by date: November 2007

Heart warming musicals aren’t exactly what Steppenwolf Theatre is known for. While not an outright musical, ‘Lindiwe’ is a new play with live music in collaboration with Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Co-directed by Jonathan Berry and playwright Eric Simonson, this marks the second time Steppenwolf has worked with Ladysmith Black Mambazo.

‘Lindiwe’ is a modern fable of two star-crossed musicians Lindiwe (Nondumiso Tembe) and Adam (Erik Hellman). The story is told in a fourth wall-breaking, casual tone by Lindiwe, a South African singer touring the US with Mambazo. Her life changes when she meets American drummer Adam one evening at the historic Kingston Mines blues club here in Chicago. Their affair is passionate and when Lindiwe gets deported by back to Durban, South Africa, Adam joins her. After a car crash, the pair finds themselves in a fantastical limbo with spiritual keeper played by Yasen Peyankov. In order to join the land of the living, the two must re-tell the events leading up to the tragic car crash.

‘Lindiwe’ honors the tradition of oral storytelling through a riff on Eurydice and other tales. The fable aspects of the story lend itself well to the Greek chorus role taken up by Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Few members of the singing group have stand-out spoken dialogue but, instead provide a musical through-line for the play that heightens the emotions. Not to mention, the harmonies and irregular rhythms created by the group sound incredible.

Fantasy can be hard to relate to for some audiences, but ‘Lindiwe’ offers deeply human themes on love and loss. Nondumiso Tembe is captivating in the titular role in both voice and performance. From the moment she appears on stage you can’t take your eyes off her. She has an undeniable charm and a contagious quality to her smile. The on-stage romance between her and Erik Hellman is endearing even as it turns tragic. Though their circumstances are cloaked in fantastical elements, there’s truth in their love story. Combined with music and dancing, all makes for a pleasing evening.

Steppenwolf Artistic Director Anna D Shapiro remarks in her playbill note that theatre is ephemeral. And when considering whether this play could be reproduced elsewhere, it would seem like a longshot. This play was commissioned by Steppenwolf and through music and plot, ties the Chicago blues scene to sister city Durban, where Ladysmith Black Mambazo resides. ‘Lindiwe’ is a unique opportunity to see the iconic world music group perform with the Steppenwolf ensemble. It’s one of those special Chicago productions that would be tough to accurately describe its beauty to anyone who wasn’t there for it.

Through January 5th at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650

The Niceties is a play that engages the intellect. But in so doing, sets up a tug-of-war with our gut, addressing a visceral issue for today: race.

Like the puzzler plays Proof or Seminar (both also set at a university campus) The Niceties leads us to think through ideas, in this case the customs and intellectual practices of the erudite precincts of academia. Instead of a puzzle, though, we are faced with a compelling case, made by college student Zoe, that some of the pedagogical and research practices of university professors are mired in the past. And because of this, academia misses out on on the cultural train departing the station. The plain of this discussion takes place on how racially grounded cultural orientations shape how we see and describe the world - and record its history. 

Zoe (Ayanna Bria Bakari) is a college student working on a senior paper in Political Science, and thinking through plans for graduate school. During office hours with her professor Janine (Mary Beth Fisher), they review Zoe’s history paper on The American Revolution. After offering a broadly positive comment on the paper’s worthiness, Janine provides cursory advice on grammar and a missing comma (“You can’t proof on the screen,” Janine admonishes Zoe).

That little aside provides the first whiff of a divide between the two – digital, political, and cultural – that playwright Eleanor Burgess lays out for us in this engaging 2017 work. Zoe is African-American, a political activist, and like her peers in the millennial generation, schooled in online research.

Boomers like Janine (and me) keep stacks of volumes around and can remember where those passages are, if they can just find that book. Zoe, meanwhile, digs up the same citations on her smart phone pronto. 

After Janine mentions her son Zachary is a student, Zoe lets her know that he is in her poetry class. This sparks a self-ironic discourse in which Janine makes an unflattering revelation about herself. Having Zachary on campus, Janine says, has “forced me to see my students as something other than walking theses statements…which is very disorienting.”This bit of self-deprecation does not take away from the truth behind that statement. 

Janine recognizes that Zoe is quite a brilliant student, but is dismissive of her paper's primary contention – “A successful American Revolution was only possible because of slavery” – because it isn't backed by formal citations that support some of her assertions. Zoe instead cites websites and Wikipedia entries. 

But we suspect Janine's criticisms are based on something more. We learn that the action takes place prior to the 2017 election, as Janine confidently predicts Clinton will be the first woman President. In this detail Burgess reveals an arrogance about Janine, one borne of certainty about her world view. How much her confidence would be shaken by Clinton's loss we can only imagine. But the playwright has a preciipitous fall in store for Janine - which we will not spoil.

Suffice it to say the debate between the two builds in intensity, with Zoe challenging her professor’s demands for published, footnoted revidence of reference material.

“If you need evidence, you are excluding the people who couldn’t leave history behind,” Zoe asserts. (Current thought in academia now accepts “imagined history” from those without records - indigenous peoples and slaves.)

Janine is less used to receiving such impassioned pushback. “I like that you stick by your opinions,” Janine tells Zoe. But she doesn’t really. The scene becomes heated, and the argument builds to a crescendo.

“Your thesis is fundamentally unsound,” charges Janine, telling Zoe to rewrite the work, or take a lower grade. Once the gloves are off, Janine invites Zoe to illuminate her supposed shortcomings as a professor. When Zoe reads verbatim from Janine's lectures, she notes her unmitigating praise of Washington and Jefferson may not work so well for the five students in class who are descendants of slaves. 

The language of the dialog is razor sharp, and very much reflects the characters.  The matter ends in a crisis as Act 1 closes, and you will be anxious to find out what happens in Act II, though I confess to being a disappointed in the lack of a dramatic resolution at the final curtain.

Director Marti Lyons has coaxed out great performances in a production that is smart and fast paced. The Niceties runs through December 8 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

So…a theatre, a rock band and a production company got together and decided to put a show together. Only this wasn’t just a theatre, it was Den Theatre, one of the most experimental and influential theatres in Chicago today. Nor was this just any production company. Jacaranda Collective is a theatre company, led by the out-of-the-box vision of artistic Sam Bianchini and associate artistic director Halie Robinson director, both who thrive on passionate and provocative storytelling, and the team responsible for this year’s outstanding production of “My Name is Rachel Corrie”. And The Family Crest is not your average band. Instead they are an orchestral indie rock band, led by Liam McCormick, that takes its listeners on a different journey with each song. Together, we have the perfect team of collaborators to pull off ‘Romeo and Juliet: The Spectacular Retelling of the World’s Greatest Love Story’. 

Performed in the largest of Den Theatre’s spaces, the audience is seated to form a three-quarters theatre-in-the-round, a stage for the band sitting at one end. The actors flow freely, not neglecting a single space in the theatre, as the Shakespeare’s story of Romeo and Juliet is beautifully told in both acting and in songs performed by The Family Crest. 

‘Romeo and Juliet: The Spectacular Retelling of the World’s Greatest Love Story’ revisits the classic tale of two young lovers, Romeo Montague (Alex Quinones) and Juliet Capulet (Halie Robinson), that fall in love despite the hatred that lies between their families. The unique play received an added boost with a live band accompaniment that really takes the story to another level. Several scenes had the San Francisco-based band perform wistful songs from their Beneath the Brine and The War: Act I albums, as the actors would join in with choreographed dance movements that perfectly synced with the dreamy sounds, creating a multi-sensory sensation that can only be had in this one-of-a-kind production. In all, we get a masterpiece of a story that is executed to perfection in its own original way thanks to its talented direction, cast and band.

The production also injects its own modern twists and sense of humor into the play’s dialogue - crowd favorite Mercutio (wonderfully played by Kade Cox) donned in drag and sharp, whimsical musings often spewed from the mouth of Juliet. Yet, at the same time, the play never loses the integrity of Shakespeare’s work of art as it was intended. The love was as refreshing as we have always experienced and the tragedy just as heartbreaking.

Here as a special three-day event, ‘Romeo and Juliet’ ends on a much higher note that we are accustomed, the theatre transforming into a concert hall as The Family Crest treats the audience to a live performance that includes songs from previous recordings and upcoming album The War: Act II. 

Theatre and Family Crest fans can only hope this production returns in the not-so-distant future – and maybe, just maybe that will happen. Near the show’s end, the fantastically Family Crest frontman, Liam McCormick asked attendees if they would like to see this show return to Chicago.

The answer – an unequivocal, enthusiastic “HELL YES!”

Rink Life is a dance performance with a difference: these dancers also speak. And sing. And act.

Dance is said to have five elements - body, action, space, time and energy. But creative director Julia Rhoads (she was once part of Red Moon) adds voice as another component to that repertoire.

Over the course of 75 minutes (no intermission) Rink Life features a series of vignettes – perhaps one-act playlets – performed by seven dancers (Kara Brody, Michel Rodriguez Cintra, Melinda Jean Myers, Jacinda Ratcliffe, Rodolfo Sánchez Sarracino, A. Raheim White, Meghann Rose Wilkinson), roughly following the rise and fall in emotional dynamics that might flow through any social group.

The vignettes are interwoven – opening with a duo (Myers and Cintra) rehearsing a pas de deux to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” that quickly devolves into a discussion between the two of whether Madonna’s line is “for the very first time” or, “for the thirty-first time” as one dancer mistakenly has it. These two are interrupted when two other dancers arrive, announcing they have the space reserved. Then others appear until the full complement of the troupe is on stage.  

While Rink Life uses roller rink culture of the 1970s as a jumping off point, it is only loosely tied to its song playlist from the period.
What would otherwise be hackneyed music choices – Hey Jude, Stayin’ Alive, Total Eclipse of the Heart - are completelyrefreshed here. Rather than threadbare recordings, the dancers voice and interpret the songs, drawing out the beats they need to keep the dances in rhythm. Bethany Clearfield, who has worked with Music of the Baroque, is vocal collaborator and coach. 

Rink Life’s staging and choreography are said to be built from the spatial rules and social codes of a roller rink. Its script or libretto is samplings of those and other songs, and of “passing conversations, distant whispers, pop-song earworms, and found scripts” as Lucky Plush Productions describes it. 

In successive scenes one or another of the dancers isolates themselves from the group, or is ostracized – and we watch the familiar dynamics of rapprochement and resolution. This may all be expressed in very 1970s catch phrases – “I wasn’t feeling it” is a recurring concern as the dancers mount numbers - but the scenes depict fundamental constancies in human social dynamics too.

Each of the performers has a distinct personality on stage and several moments in the spotlight. But Cintra and White stand out, while Melinda Myers reminded me so much of a dancing version of comedienne Kristen Wiig.

Refreshing as an Italian ice, Rink Life brings a continuously unexpected take how people get along in groups. Rink Life runs through November 17 at Steppenwolf Theatre’s cozy 1700 space.

The first time I ever saw Oliver!, it was the 1960s movie version. I saw it at one of those old-timey theaters where an “old” guy (this was the 1980s and I was a wee lad, so the organist very well could’ve been a pimply teen keyboard prodigy and I’d have still pegged him as a geezer) played the pipe organ and they showed “old” movies (I remember seeing Laurel and Hardy there, too) and it was supposed to make you feel like it was the good-old days. Well, I know I didn’t recall much of the plot, but that Oliver!’s characters and musical numbers sure made a big impression — a big enough impression that my reintroduction to them, all these years later, by the Marriott Theatre’s current production, made it feel like being reacquainted with shabby old Cockney chums on the Victorian London streets in which they make their questionable livings.

When my date for the night, my six-year-old daughter who’s already a Broadway kinda gal, asked me what Oliver! was about, I told her it was “Annie with boys.” That explanation appeased her beforehand, and it made even more sense as we watched the show, because in Oliver!, it’s the kids who do the heavy lifting. From the opening number, “Food, Glorious Food,” the urchins whose lives are spent in either the poorhouse or on the London streets are the focus whenever they’re onstage. And the boys (and yes, unlike Annie’s female orphans, these kids are all male), despite their coal-smudged cheeks and their ratty rags and hand-me-down threads, light up the stage whenever they take it, especially in big numbers like the afore-mentioned “Food, Glorious Food,” as well as “Consider Yourself” and “You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two.”

The two young stars of the play do as much shining as any of their peers. In the performance I saw, Kayden Koshelev played the eponymous orphan (he’ll be alternating performances with Kai Edgar). Koshelev is a little guy, tiny in comparison even to the other kids. But that makes him stand out, actually, and makes the audience care for him even more. Patrick Scott McDermott’s Artful Dodger steals each scene he’s in, his Cockney accent on point, his top hat held high, his eyes twinkling through the gloom and doom of his homeless, criminal existence.

And the adults who force this existence on their youthful stage mates are every bit their younger peers’ equals. In the movie version, I remember being terrified of Fagin. But in this production, William Brown brings the heart he recently brought to Into the Woods — sure he’s a crook and takes advantage of the boys who are his wards, but he’s a vulnerable villain. The same cannot be said for Dan Waller’s Bill Sikes; I wish Waller had a bigger part, because while he wasn’t the imposing figure, size-wise, I remember the film Sikes being, Waller’s demeanor and attire sure made a dark impression. Matthew R. Jones’ Mr. Bumble was also a daunting adult for the poor kids to deal with, although he was allowed some humor thanks to Bethany Thomas’ Mrs. Corney (Thomas, too, displays her range, this time as a character actress after carrying the recent Into the Woods).

But it was yet another star from Into the Woods who shined brightest in Oliver! — Lucy Godinez’s Nancy. Godinez starred, of course, as Little Red Riding Hood, and helped make that production. But, if it’s possible, she’s even better here, showing just as much warmth as Brown’s Fagin for the ragamuffins, and providing the highlight of the show with her take on “As Long as He Needs Me” — her performance of that song alone will have me looking for any future productions she’s in.

So, just like the film version’s plot made little impression on a little me, while its cast and music did, I can say the same for the Marriott Theatre’s current production of Oliver! — come for the charming Cockney characters and the tunes, glorious tunes. You won’t leave with an empty belly.

At Marriott Theatre through December 29th. For more information visit https://www.marriotttheatre.com/.  

Scott Bradley is an institution within the Chicago theater community. His quirky, campy musical versions of old horror movies have been sell-out hits around town for years. Which is what makes “Packing” all the more interesting. He instead turns the spotlight on himself. About Face borrows Victory Gardens artistic director Chay Yew to direct Scott Bradley’s one-man confessional.

In “Packing” Bradley moves away from the puppets and classic rock and opens his own life up to a 90-minute journey through the turbulent AIDS-era gay life. First and foremost, this is incredibly brave for someone as well-known as Scott, many colleagues are likely to see About Face’s premiere. Bradley is not afraid to expose every aspect of his life from physical abuse to addiction and failure. That might all sound like a bummer but Bradley’s inviting narrative style is humorous and relatable. And of course, it’s all tied to together with various pop culture influences.

“Packing” is Bradley’s life story, but it’s also the collective legacy of the midwestern gay experience. A reminder of how far the LGBT community has come in the past three decades. Bradley stands alone on a stark stage and begins his story at the age he began to understand he was different. His childhood is rather unhappy, but his delivery makes it seem as if he’s the only who doesn’t know how traumatic his home life was. As he grows up, the story becomes more familiar. The far reaches of the Midwest can be an unaccepting place and that sent many LGBT people to the cities to seek acceptance. Not only acceptance of the LGBT lifestyle, but acceptance of the creative lifestyle.

Bradley’s heartbreaking failures changed the course of his life in ways that few can predict when they’re in the pits of despair. His struggles with drug addiction and alcohol dependence and his explanation for why he turned to substances to quiet the critical voices in his head are all too real. Many people in the LGBT community struggle with substance abuse and non-traditional societal norms can sometimes perpetuate cycles of addiction. His stories aren’t just his stories, they’re all of our stories.

It’s hard to imagine anyone else portraying Scott Bradley but Scott Bradley. His performance style is at times frantic, but always warm and authentic. He takes an audience in his arms and let’s them know that it’s okay to fail. He doesn’t ask an audience for approval, but rather to say if you’re struggling, you’re not alone. Chay Yew helps draw out Bradley’s vulnerability through a variety of pseudo-characters; Bradley at various ages of his life. Yew also designed the set, though sparse, is effective. The pop cultural cannon that inspired Bradley is playfully cast on the floor of the stage rather than the backdrop. An interesting visual twist.

“Packing” is a journey of self-acceptance through an era that was less gay friendly. It’s Scott Bradley exposing his storied life in order to help anyone who finds themselves in the same boat. It’s a theater experience that gives voice to anyone who fled small town roots in order to find themselves.

Through December 7th at About Face theater - Theater Wit. 1229 W Belmont Ave. 773-975-8150

Let’s begin with a children’s story. A children’s story about children’s stories, really.

Long, long ago, there lived a boy who could not decide what he would be when he grew up. He might have grown up to sing songs or tally bills, to right wrongs or treat ills, but he just could not decide. Then one day, the boy met a wonderful enchantress — a creator and a raconteur who herself had vowed never to grow up, and who lived her life telling stories for children. She told the boy that he, too, needn’t ever grow up, for he had been placed in this world for the same purpose as her — to tell tales that enchant children, young and old. And so, the boy did just that for many years until one day, as boys sometimes do, he grew up and went on to smaller, lesser things. And while that ageless enchantress still tells stories to children while the tired, graying boy does not, somewhere deep inside him lurks a longing for that storybook world he left behind, a longing let out now and again when he reads or hears or sees a story told truly and lovingly, told for and to those who have yet to grow up.

I begin with that story because Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Steadfast Tin Soldier” was always the gold standard when that boy considered what a true and lovely children’s story is. Lookingglass Theatre’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier, written and directed by Mary Zimmerman, is the rare adaptation of a true classic that’s not only worthy and respectful of its source material, but takes it to new and wondrous places.

Show, don’t tell. That’s perhaps the first rule of good storytelling, and Zimmerman’s production adheres to that maxim. From the curious pre-show goings-on that evoke an advent countdown to both Christmastime and the curtain’s rise, to the inspired puppets and streamers and set pieces that create worlds within worlds on the Lookingglass stage, to the powdered wigs (“That’s Mozart!” my six-year-old cried when she spotted music director and arranger Leandro Lopez Varady take his seat at the piano) and classical instruments that arm the four-piece orchestra tasked with playing Andre Pluess and Amanda Dehnert’s exceptional score, a time and a place and a mood have been created before the story even begins.

Show, don’t tell. For the length of the play, not a word is spoken. I imagine that Ms. Zimmerman drew inspiration from silent movies, as her cast tells the story with what they show the audience — with their actions, with their bodies, with their faces, with their eyes.

John Gregorio and Joe Dempsey are the play’s active, madcap jacks of all trades, filling pointed elven shoes as puppeteers, scene-makers and set-movers, and various roles throughout. Dempsey’s Nursemaid is positively Pythonian in her prissy, proper pomp and posture. And Gregorio’s Rat, one of many parts he plays, adds a sense of gnawing doom and gloom.

As the ballerina, tucked away inside a doll’s house into which the audience is soon invited, Kasey Foster enchants both said audience and the titular tin soldier with her grace and her beauty. But she’s equally charming later on as a rambunctious rapscallion wreaking havoc in the Danish streets.

Anthony Irons’ costumes and props — as a wine-buzzed master of the house, as a masked fairyland creature of questionable species, and as a jack-in-the-box goblin who sets the story’s plot in motion — often capture the eye, but it’s his facial gestures I noticed most. From grins to glares to grimaces, Irons harkens character actors like Don Knotts with his oversized expressions that translate from the stage every bit as clearly as his castmates’ bodily movements.

But it’s Alex Stein’s Steadfast Tin Soldier who’s, quite literally by the end of it, the play’s heart. While the others frolic about, Stein’s one-legged plaything is destined to remain static, so it’s his eyes that show us all we need to know. Above, I wondered if Mary Zimmerman was inspired by the silent movies of yesteryear, and I think it’s Stein’s Buster Keaton-esque ability to tell it all with just one look that got me thinking that way, every bit as much as the entire wordless production did. When Stein’s eyes gleamed, brimming with tears, so did mine.

Perhaps he’s as old fashioned as those silent films of yore, but that boy who’s all grown up now is not a crier. Then this holiday play for kids of any age went and brought him to tears, the same as Hans Christian Andersen’s original children’s story always did. And maybe, just maybe, this children’s story told truly and lovingly will also remind that boy that he hasn’t yet grown up all the way and that there are still children’s stories of his own to tell — stories that delight and inspire, that entertain and touch — just like Lookingglass Theatre’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier is doing from now through January 26.

We all know that certain words are verboten in polite society - some because they are coarse, like expletives; others because they are demeaning or belittling, or off-limits.

One of these – the N-word – is the hook that triggers the action in a new play, called, simply, ‘N,’ at the Greenhouse Theater Center. Smoothly directed by TaRon Patton, the story revolves around an ambitious young actor, Eddy (Ryan Smetana) who has been hired as a live-in aid for the 70-year-old Mrs. Page (Stacie Doublin).

Immediately we are intrigued by Mrs. Page, who is a character rarely (if ever) portrayed, an African-American Goldwater Republican. Eddy, who is white, is all about proper liberal social behavior, in visible arenas, like recycling, and bringing his own shopping bags to the grocery store. He is also rather a narcissist, and the consummate guy with his heart-on-his-sleeve.

Mrs. Page does not suffer his foolishness gladly, and has reluctantly accepted his arrival in her home. She quickly sets, and carefully maintains, a dividing line to ward off any emotional intimacy with this intruder. But Eddy is young, and crashes and burns a couple times – expecting and eventually getting emotional support, though its dispensed sparingly by Mrs. Page.

Things all come to a head when Eddy gets his career break with a major name theater production. But then, a script rewrite inserts the ‘N’ word in the show, and he resigns the role. There are stormy moments for both parties.

And Mrs. Page, who earns a living as a stock trader and investment advisor, makes a compelling case for her support - as an African-American – for conservative 1960s-era Republican Barry Goldwater, who staunchly defended the right of the individual. “Contrary to popular opinion,” Mrs. Page tells Eddy, “you are a minority – of one.”  

Playwright David Alex shows canny skillfulness in the craftsmanship of ‘N.’ For example, as the play opens, Eddy is auditioning with lines from Oedipus concerning fate versus free will, done in a Southern dialect - foreshadowing the discussions ahead. 

Still the first act needs polishing: lines by Mrs. Page like, “Your employment includes room and board,” and “Understand it is not by my choice that you are employed here,” seem less like dialog than scene-setting pronouncements. At two different points, in a darkened room, a phone call is overheard by an unseen third party – that seems contrived. And Eddy behaves and speaks with unnatural familiarity as a new arrival in Mrs.Page's home. Likewise for Mrs. Page, though she is rough, not friendly like Eddy.

There seem to be some distracting plot points, e.g., Mrs. Page is an avid astrologist, but has been housebound since one of her predictions led to tragedy. And she cooks Jewish dishes for a neighbor.

The second act, though, completely redeems things – suggesting that first half may be in development still. We really see the characters come into their own. Stacie Doublin is powerful in the later dialog. And a final, doleful scene performed in silence by Eddy and Mrs. Page is moving and strongly affecting.

Also noteworthy is the performance of Reginald Hemphill as Eddy’s buddy DeShawn, who commands the stage for his brief time on it. Speaking also on word usage, “You are not a ‘brother,’” DeShawn, who is African-American, advises Eddy. “This may come as a shock to your white liberal sensibilities, but you are not black!”

Alex, who is a fixture in Chicago theater, has written more than a dozen other scripts, including Eroica at Red Twist Theatre, and Ends, which won an African-American Theater Festival Award at the University of Louisville. ‘N,’ thought provoking and lively, comes recommended. ‘N’ runs through November 17 at Greenhouse Theatre in Chicago.

What separates a musical from an opera? Technically an opera is a story in which all the dialogue is exchanged through song. Hence the term rock opera, which describes modern musicals that have little to no spoken dialogue. Such semantics may seem trivial, but as the world moves forward traditional opera must too in order to thrive.

“Dead Man Walking” is by no means a new work, as it had its world premiere at the San Francisco Opera in 1999. It’s composed by Jake Heggie with a book by Tony Award winning playwright Terrence McNally. It is an adaptation of the 1995 film for which Susan Sarandon won an Academy Award for Best Actress. Based on the true story of Sister Helen Prejean’s special relationship with two death row inmates in Louisiana, “Dead Man Walking” is an excellent example of what the future of opera theatre might look like.

“Dead Man Walking” holds its Chicago premiere at the Lyric under the direction of Leonard Foglia. What is immediately striking is a scene of graphic sexual violence right off the bat. A stark departure from the usual 19th Century fantasies normally produced on the Lyric stage. Though the English subtitles are much appreciated, they’re somewhat unnecessary as this opera is sung in English.

Heggie’s music shares a lot in common with traditional musical theatre. The consistent through-line melody “He Will Gather Us Around” will have you humming into intermission and wiping your eyes by the finale. While Heggie’s compositions are quite good, and very cinematic in their aesthetic, it is the deeply humane storyline of condemned prisoner Joseph De Rocher that will hold your attention. McNally does what he does best, sharp dialogue and tight narrative structure.

It’s not often to hear sniffles during the climax of a traditional opera. No matter how arresting the score, or brilliant the performances, classical opera can sometimes create an emotional disconnect. In this work, we see modern day reality and that feels more relatable than say, Wagner. That’s not to say it’s missing the spectacle. As the case with any Lyric production, the staging is epic and visually stunning.

Though most of the cast is making their Lyric debut, they leave a big impression. Joe De Rocher is sung by Ryan McKinny. A booming voice fitting of an unrepentant killer and he’s able to sing opera in a southern accent. Patricia Racette portrays Sister Helen Prejean. It’s her journey we are on. She knows as well as the audience that De Rocher is guilty, but like her, we hold the slimmest hope that maybe he’s innocent. Her unwavering love for De Rocher is his redemption. It’s her power as an actress and a singer to evoke the spirit of forgiveness. Even as McNally’s dialogue is stretched into soaring arias, there’s an authenticity in Racette’s performance.

“Dead Man Walking” achieves what good opera should, and that is to move its audience through the power of music. Theatre, regardless of the type should comment on the world in which we live. While the classics are so for a reason, they’re becoming less of a draw for younger audiences. “Dead Man Walking” proves that opera isn’t a dying art form. It’s an invitation for audiences to have post-show discussions about real world issues.

Through November 22nd at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

What better props and scenery than that in one’s own imagination? And what better way to give each audience member their own unique experience than to let each follow their own journey guided only by storytelling without any visuals to distract, detract or force its own interpretation of what we are supposed to see?  Theatre in the Dark masterfully succeeds in bringing to life a story that is sure to be different for each end everyone in attendance. ‘Three Stories Up’ is the theatre production’s company latest undertaking – a noir mystery/thriller that takes places in complete darkness.

Taking place at The Church on Thorndale (1244 W. Thorndale), theatre goers are put into different groups consisting of just a handful of people each. We are then led through the main congregation area of the Church, through a hallway and into a small, but comfortable, sized room. At that point, all attendees are blindfolded and led in a single file line - holding onto the shoulder of the person in front of us for guidance - into another room where we are seated. Before taking off the blindfolds, we are given instructions and cautionary directions on what to do should claustrophobia take effect – so, worry not, every precaution is taken and by the time the play begins, we are at ease and ready to immerse ourselves into a suspense mystery. 

We are then directed to remove the blindfolds – and it is pitch black. After waiting for my eyes to adjust just ever so slightly to see the most minimal amount of light, I realize minutes later, nope, this is truly the absence of light in its greatest sense. A hand inches from one’s face may have well been twenty feet away. And though the actors move about, and are sometimes seemingly inches away from seated guests, they make a point to not touch anyone. 

 
Chicago playwright Mackenzie Gordon gives us a gripping 80-minute drama done in the style of radio mysteries done in the 1930s and 1940s. As the story progresses, we hear characters move from one location to another. Director Cory Bradberry does a wonderful job of delivering this engaging story that revolves a Canadian transit cop, Beatrice Dulaurier, who finds her husband dead upon coming home, as each scene is painted so beautifully that vivid images effortlessly appear in our heads throughout.

As a crime drama that has all the elements of a noir thriller, ‘Three Stories Up’ is filled with colorful personalities including the hardboiled detective, the ambitious (and suspicious) journalist and a host of quirky characters. Unsure of how many cast members were handling the voices of the story’s characters during the performance, I was surprised when it turned out to be just two actors handling all the roles – Bethany Arrington (Beatrice Dulaurier, others) and Mackenzie Gordon (Gunner Bjornsen, others). Both were nothing short of outstanding. And kudos to Corey Bradford who really enhanced the overall experience with strategic foley and sound design.

‘Three Stories Up’ is a thriller that keeps its audience guessing, but the originality behind the production – and its precise execution - makes it a must see as one of Chicago’s more creative theatre adventures.

‘Three Stories Up’ is being performed at The Church on Thorndale through November 9th.

For tickets and/or more show information, visit www.theareinthedark.com.