Items filtered by date: June 2026

Before he was Twilight Zone’s scriptwriter and frontman, Rod Serling broke through with the 1956 teleplay of Requiem for a Heavyweight, a powerful noire telling of a boxer on his way down. This work was originally broadcast live in black and white, and starred Jack Palance, Keenan Wynn, and Kim Hunter. In those days it was performed just once, and in this case the lone recording is of moderate quality. 

Putting such a teleplay onto the stage is transformative for the work. The audience is not limited to the camera’s viewpoint, but it tests the writing and of course, the performances. We can report that Artistic Theater’s production is absolutely first rate – first and foremost because it is very well cast, with a staggeringly good performance by Mark Pracht as Harlan “Mountain” McClintock. Pracht seems born for this role, as he is both a mountain of a man, and carefully expresses Serling's portrait of a Tennessee country boy who has taken way too many punches.

This is also a tragedy, in the Greek sense – Mountain had risen to become a contender for world heavyweight champion, but began to decline before he could get there. Like any tragic hero, he is thwarted by an antagonist: his manager, Maish Resnick (Patrick Thornton), who has skimmed profit from Mountain during his rise. Now as Mountain loses more than he wins, Maish plays a deceitful game – which creates the turning point in the play’s resolution.

Thornton is full throttle in this role, playing convincingly enough that you will come to loathe him. But even more forceful and compelling is the performance of Todd Wojcik as Army, as Mountain’s trainer and constant wingman. Wojcik’s performance is freighted with emotion and empathy, and will touch your heart.

There are a several other colorful characters in this cast, hustlers on the make that Serling drew from his own experience as a boxer. And we have a chorus of lower-level boxers and trainers, and thugs. These characters enact stylized boxer training interludes that are very powerful. And though each has a small part, it makes for a stunning effect overall. The set is a simple canvas platform – the ring – and the audience is seated around it, in a very intimate space.

There are just two female figures in Requiem, and both seem bound to be stereotypes of a 1950s male psyche: Golda (Laura Coleman), a “dame with a bad reputation” and Maish’s main squeeze. “What are you doing vertical; is there a recession on?” Maish asks her, in a reference it’s hard to imagine got through the censors.

The other female role is more substantial – Grace Carney (Annie Hogan), an employment agent who falls for Mountain as she tries to help him transition from boxing to something new. Hogan’s performance mines the role for all the meaning it can bear, and she is a strong heroine against the dastardly Maish. Her character in Requiem for a Heavyweight foreshadows another woman who supported Rocky years later.

The teleplay was influential enough to warrant a British TV version starring Sean Connery with a cameo by Michael Caine, and was turned into a 1962 film featuring Anthony Quinn in the lead. As a genre, teleplays are memories, but perhaps they foretold Netflix and Amazon movie productions. Teleplays have been tremendously influential – think of 12 Angry Men, Marty, The Days of Wine & Roses – all originated as live television productions.

Requiem for a Heavyweight is a great show, and a theatrical event. Running through March 31, there are just 50 seats per performance, so it is highly recommended you plan to attend at The Artistic Home on Grand Avenue in Chicago. 

Guiseppe Verdi’s beloved, romantic heartbreaker, La Traviata was beautifully sung Saturday evening at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. The second offering this season by the great Italian composer, it is the last opera from the famed blockbuster trio of Verdi’s middle period which include Rigoletto, Il Trovatore. Unfortunately, it did not live up to the standard of Il Trovatore presented earlier this season.

The production, which debuted here in the 2013/14 Season is (with the exception of Act Two, Scene 1) just plain ugly. Why such a dismal production would be re-mounted is a mystery. If management wonders why ticket sales are down, maybe they should take a look at their stage sets. Designed by Riccardo Hernandez, the heroine of the opera, Violetta Valery, lives in a giant concrete cylinder with no windows, stark lighting, and nary a picture nor sconce on the wall. Is this to suggest the bleakness of her inner life? If so, the design team completely misses the point. Verdi’s music represents Violetta’s inner bleakness superbly, stringently contrasting it with the artificial opulence of her material world. A bleak set completely avoids that tragic juxtaposition. We understand that budgets are tight, but certainly an international opera house of the stature of the Lyric can afford more than a few pieces of stage furniture. The huge stark edifice and ghostly shadows that worked so well in the darker Il Trovatore a few months ago, seemed totally incongruous in Violetta Valery’s Paris, the City of Light.

Violetta, and the real life woman the character is based on, Marie Duplessis, would have lived in a lavish apartment with every fashionable and expensive furnishing and accessory. The high end courtesans of the 19th century were the era’s style setters, envied and emulated, even while the morality of their profession was held in scorn by ‘Polite Society’. As our society has changed over the last 175 years, there is no exact parallel today to the divas of the demi-monde, but the program notes that suggest Princess Diana are partly right. Where she went, what she wore and who she was with utterly captivated the attention of the public. But imagine, if you can, a combination of the elegant Princess with the looser lifestyle of a Kardashian, perhaps, and you might get a little closer to the famous and fascinating women that reigned in the demi-monde, the “half-world”, of the Courtesans of the past.

“La traviata”, meaning the one who has strayed, does find redemption – not unlike Cheryl Strayed, of the book and movie, Wild, although it is love and not wilderness that brings about the moral transfiguration. In the libretto by Francesco Maria Piave, based on the play from the novel “La Dame aux Camélias” by Alexander Dumas the Younger (son of the famous author of “The Three Musketeers”), we meet the Courtesan at the height of her fame, but near the end of her short life; at 23 she is already quite ill with consumption.

The curtain rises during the soft ethereal prelude to reveal a lacy scrim behind which we see Violetta attended by her maid Amina, preparing for the party which opens the action. It was refreshing to be spared the once meaningful but now over-done prelude as the epilogue with the entire action of the opera as a flashback. This should have provided an opportunity for us to see the frail and exhausted Violetta put on her party face, rally her strength and take the room as the dazzling courtesan plying the talents that led to her meteoric rise to the top of her profession. Unfortunately, this insightful moment did not play out as intended. It felt more like a peeping-tom watching somebody’s maiden aunt getting ready to go to church.

Albina Shagimuratova returned to the Lyric this year as the title character, following recent appearances here as Elvira in “I Puritani” by Bellini last year and Lucia in “Lucia di Lammermoor” by Donizetti the year before. Ms. Shagimuratova was in fine voice, and sang the challenging role magnificently from start to finish, deftly handling the brilliant coloratura, spinning out delicate, silken “fil de voce” or threads of voice, and with clarity and fullness sufficient for the passages requiring a bigger, more dramatic sound. Yet she could not even pretend to have the grace, vivacity, charisma, or sexual magnetism that Violetta must display. In the first scene her acting was the sort of acting that gives opera singers a bad name, plodding around aimlessly, looking matronly, with a few phony gestures here and there. Somehow, during the expansive “Sempre Libera”, in a moment when she must soar as she discards the notion of true love for her life of freedom, luxury and pleasure, Ms. Shagimuratova was, from where we were seated, hidden behind a table bearing a conical mound of fruit. In Act Two however, with its inherent expression of true, romantic, and intimate love, she seemed more comfortable and able to access the emotions of the character; her desperate, passionate singing carried the meaning far more effectively, especially in the crucial duet with the father of her new, true love, Alfredo. Moments of genuine poignancy returned in the intimate final act as she sadly faces death alone, only to be elated by the return of her loved ones arriving just in time to watch her die. If Ms. Shagimuratova is not willing to embrace playing a whore, perhaps she should limit her repertoire to “good girl” roles.

Giorgio Berrugi, in his first performance here, made a fine Alfredo. He brought a clear lyric, tenor voice and Italianate singing to the roll with youthful ardor. His infatuation with Violetta, anger at her perceived betrayal, remorse for his behavior, love and understanding as they were reunited were all believable, despite any semblance of a spark of sexual energy from the soprano.

“Best in Show” turned out to be Željko Luĉić as Giorgio Germont, Alfredo’s father, who arrives to the Act Two “love nest” in the country that Violetta and Alfredo are sharing. He is sternly determined to break up the affair that is causing scandal back home in Provence, and threatening the chances of a good marriage for Alfredo’s “pure-as-an-angel” sister. The outstanding Verdi baritone, familiar to audiences here and at all major opera houses throughout the world, was exceptional. He used his riveting presence not in an intimidating way, but as a strong and loving head of the family doing what he believes to be best for all. But Papa Germont is not unyielding, he recognizes something special about Violetta, and presses his case with compassion and respect, with both vocal tenderness and power. When Alfredo discovers he has been abandoned, his father tries, unsuccessfully, to console him by invoking memories of home and family in the beautiful aria “Di Provenza, il mar, il suol” - “The sun and sea of Provence”, sung superbly by Mr. Luĉić. This is what makes opera singing so difficult and so amazing when it all comes together; the singer requires an extraordinary instrument, excellent technique, abundant acting talent, well-honed stage craft, and the inexplicable ability to use all these things together to communicate on a deep level. Good singers have most of these things. The great singers, like Mr. Luĉić, have it all. The ovation received by Ms. Shagimuratova revealed that the audience is willing to accept two or three out of five, but Mr. Luĉić’s performance was, by far, the most satisfying.

The stage direction by Arin Arbus seemed amateurish for one with such fine credentials from the spoken theater. It was yet another example of how stage directors from the spoken theater do not possess the knowledge or training to be adequate opera directors. The chorus scenes were a disorganized melee, the least problematic of which was the masquerade at the party in Act Two, Scene 2, hosted by Violetta’s friend Flora. Dealing with an opera chorus requires a skilled opera director who understands the music, singing, and who is experienced coordinating large crowds in small spaces, and within the constraints of an exactly limited amount of time as dictated by the music; there is rarely anything quite like it in the spoken theater. Even in intimate scenes Ms. Arbus demonstrated little understanding of basic opera stage craft, allowing singers to upstage or block one another in ways which did not permit them to “cheat” out to be heard in a large hall such as the Ardis Krainik Theater. Ms. Arbus showed talent with one or two nice touches, but overall, the principals could have staged it as well themselves from their previous experience. The prelude to Act Three was staged behind the scrim as well, but what is the point of changing the sheets as Violetta lies dying in her sick-bed? Again, anything which that bit of business could have conveyed is far more thoroughly expressed in Verdi’s music. This seems to be the hallmark of theater directors in the opera house: Stage business for the sake of stage business. We’ve seen worse, but when will this trend end? At least Ms. Arbus didn’t mess with the good supertitles by Francis Rizzo.

The always excellent Lyric Opera Orchestra played beautifully, conducted with skill and extraordinary sensitivity to the singers by Michael Christie in his Lyric debut. Many conductors take tempi that fit their preconceived notion of how a piece should “go”, expecting singers to adjust to those tempi. Mr. Christie is a singer’s conductor who actually listens to his singers, adjusting his tempi to best suit the unique idiosyncrasies of a particular voice, allowing their best qualities to blossom. He is an encouraging addition to the Lyric Opera’s roster.

The comprimario roles were all ably performed, mostly by members of the Ryan Opera Center and by Zoie Reams, a former member of the Houston Grand Opera Studio. Ms. Reams is attractive and has a yummy mezzo voice. She made the most of her two scenes as Violetta’s friend, Flora. We hope to see and hear more of her in future seasons. As Amina, the formidable Lauren Decker brought a touching authenticity to the role of the maid – not as easy as one might think. And what a voice! Ms. Decker should enjoy a respectable career.

Mario Rojas was amiable as Alfredo’s buddy Gastone, with a promising voice. Ricardo Josè Rivera looked young, in spite of grayed hair, but pulled off the arrogant demeanor of Violetta’s older patron, Baron Duphol. His good baritone voice displayed appropriate weight too, in spite of his youth, as did bass-baritone David Weigel as Doctor Grenvil. The Marquis was nicely sung by Christopher Kenny. Eric Ferring, Vince Wallace and Matthew Carroll also acquitted themselves well in their respective parts as Guiseppe, the Messenger and the Servant.

In the Act One party scene in Violetta’s house, the lighting, designed by Marcus Doshi, was as grey as Chicago in February. Um… do we need to point out that a lot of us go to the opera in the winter to escape the dark and the drear? Unless called for dramatically, why subject us to more of the same? The ambience was somewhat relieved by cool golden tones for the country house in Act Two Scene 1, and Flora’s party in Scene 2 was colorful with Chinese lanterns and deep, deep red tones relieved by spot lights on the singers in the concerted finale. Sadly, Act Three returned to the dark and drear, but since Violetta was now on her deathbed and presumably the creditors had taken away her belongings, it made some sense, but there was no contrast to the luxuriousness that should have been there before.

Giant puppets and cross-dressing dancers appeared in the Act Two, Scene 2 party scene at Flora’s, designed by Cait O’Connor and choreographed by Austin McCormick. Fortunately, the rather creepy and garish milieu didn’t detract from the key kick-in-the-gut moment when Alfredo’s fury at being dumped gets the better of him as he ruthlessly insults and humiliates Violetta in front of everyone.

This moving love story, the theatrical genius of Verdi, the beautiful score expertly played and the consistently first-rate singing throughout make this production worth seeing, in spite of its flaws. There are nine more performances through March 22. Verdi’s music will inspire you. If you have never seen “La Traviata”, go. If you have seen it, go again. Log onto www.lyricopera.org for tickets or call 312 827-5600.

Dead Man’s Cell Phone- its title a built in spoiler alert - opens with an unbeatable scene: In a nearly deserted café, the young woman Jean (Cydney Moody) dining alone is disturbed by the repeatedly ringing cellphone at the next table.

The young man sitting there with his back to us makes no effort to answer it. In frustration she walks over to confront him, and gets a shocking surprise. Then she answers the phone – it is Mrs. Gottlieb, seeking her son, Gordon, the man whose back is to us – and Jean tells her he can’t answer.

Jean continues to answer more phone calls from relatives and business associates. She soon becomes enmeshed in the family and its affairs, and what we learn are Gordon’s unseemly business dealings. That set-up was enough to make me see this play for a second time – I had been so thrilled by Steppenwolf’s 2008 production that I bought the script and rave about the play – it has also made me a fan of Ruhl, a Macarthur Genius and Yale drama professor.

Ruhl's scripts, especially Dead Man's Cell Phone, go well beyond the ordinary, bundling sometimes conflicting dramatic elements – the literal storyline of the plot, but infused with absurdism and serving up commentary on religious, philosophical, and psychological issues. All that gives Dead Man’s Cell Phone true substance, but the audience also gets an entertaining show that is largely a romantic comedy – and very funny at that.

Among the most entertaining aspects of Dead Man’s Cell Phone is the irreverence. Soon after that café scene, we meet Mrs. Gottlieb onstage, a well-off matron, and now delivering a eulogy at her son Gordon’s funeral. Describing herself as non-religious, Mrs. Gottlieb (her name, ironically, mean’s God’s Love) praises the soaring sanctuary.

I’m not sure what to say. There is, thank God, a vaulted ceiling here. I am relieved to find that there is stained glass and the sensation of height. Even though I am not a religious woman I am glad there are still churches. Thank God there are still people who build churches for the rest of us, so that when someone dies – or gets married – we have a place to - I could not put all of this – in a low-ceilinged room – no – it requires height.

Then a cell phone goes off and Mrs. Gottleib swears. In minutes she violates a sacred space, taboos on foul language, funerary propriety; she is off-hand about her son’s religious service, and the church in which it takes place. It’s subversive, and very funny.

High praise is due for The Comrade theater group's selection of Dead Man’s Cell Phone. It is well done, but compared to other versions perhaps a bit more “in your face” (and maybe a little off script). Director Arianna Soloway has chosen to give the overall production a “noir” flavor, and adds theatrical flourishes that serve as commentary on how cellphones have become mandatory appendages for humans.

In the 12 years since Ruhl wrote this script, cell phones have insinuated themselves even more eventfully into our lives. This production at Greenhouse Theater has elaborate scene changing routines, with actors dressed in trench coats and fedoras to move sets, and holding a phone on-high as they leave. But arguably this puts an emphasis on an aspect of the play that mattered to Ruhl. And perhaps it's a matter of preference; I like a leaner approach that relies more on the language and timing for Sarah Ruhl’s devastatingly funny lines.

But the audience around me was loving this show, and there was a lot of laughter. Bryan Breau as Gordon turned in the best performance, while Mike Newquist as his younger brother Dwight and Lynette Li as Gordon’s widow Hermia were very strong in keeping the intellectual mayhem afloat. Cydney Moodey carries off well Jean as Everyman, and this seems to be exactly as Ruhl intended. 

The night I saw the show, Caroline Latta as Mrs. Gottlieb had all the imperiousness Ruhl must have a intended, but some of the humor fell flat because the timing was off. (When Jean is rescued by Dwight in one scene, Mrs. Gottlieb asks her if she would like “a cold compress, some quiche” and the interval between those phrases is the difference between funny ha ha and funny weird.) 

Titles of Sarah Ruhl's plays suggest her outlook: How to Transcend a Happy Marriage, For Peter Pan on her 70th Birthday, In the Next Room, or the vibrator play, The Clean House and Stage Kiss (I’ve seen the last three). She is a two-time Pulitzer Prize finalist and a Tony Award nominee. Her plays have been produced on Broadway, and translated into 14 languages.

Withal, this show is highly recommended: an opportunity to see Dead Man's Cell Phone performed live should not be missed. It's at the Greenhouse Theater through March 10, 2019.

All apologies to the teachers and professors who groomed me to be a ceaseless reader and sporadic writer — I never finished Anna Karenina. But while I never plowed through all 900 pages of Tolstoy’s novel, moments from the book have stayed with me. One of them is just a line, one seemingly effortless line among pages full of them, and what a line it is: “All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”

As I reflect on the variety, the charm, and the beauty I was privileged to behold at the Joffrey Ballet’s world premiere of Yuri Possokhov’s production of his countryman’s classic, I realize I witnessed a whole world of light and shadow being created right there on the Auditorium Theatre’s stage.

The creation of that entire world was, most obviously, performed by Possokhov’s choreography carried out by the Joffrey’s outstanding company, of course. Victoria Jaiani’s Anna navigates said world in both light and shadow — beautiful but damaged, faced with reality but delirious. Her husband Karenin, towers over the stage, as portrayed by the magnificent Fabrice Calmels, as a stately, stern husband and father and statesman. Just as stately, while also boyish and beautiful, Alberto Velazquez’s Vronsky lures the audience just as he lures poor Anna. And parallel to the love triangle and tragedy that envelope those three is the love story between Yoshihisa Arai’s Levin and Anais Bueno’s Kitty. If the former affair gives us the shadow, then the latter relationship brings it into the light.

These lights and shadows do not flicker before us thanks solely to the dancers, however. No, the spectacle of sight and sound beyond the dancing are every bit as stunning. Tom Pye’s sets and David Finn’s lighting navigates from dusky railyards to sunny Tuscany, from opium dreams to canapé flings. Of the many delights dished out by the Joffrey’s Nutcracker, perhaps my favorite was its use of projections, and Finn Ross’ projections for 'Anna Karenina' equal those, coloring the story and conjuring spirits.

But from curtain to curtain, the visual thrills are always complemented and often eclipsed by Ilya Demutsky’s original score directed by Scott Speck. The Chicago Philharmonic’s accompaniment, shifting seamlessly from elegance to dissonance, while always both classic and contemporary, is joined by Lindsay Metzger’s mezzo-soprano — who literally joins the show by the end — to craft this world of light and shadow in multiple dimensions that quicken multiple sensations.

So join the Joffrey Ballet at the Auditorium Theatre for Anna Karenina through February 24, as all of these world-class talents work together to shade and illuminate, to craft and create the variety and the charm and the beauty one would expect from a hefty literary classic written a century-and-a-half ago and half a world away.

What was meant to be a run somewhere in the neighborhood of four to eight weeks, became a resident show for Windy City Playhouse, so popular in fact, a new home was created nearly a year later to hold the run indefinitely. The new venue, Windy City Playhouse South (2229 S. Michigan) is now the home for ‘Southern Gothic’ the smash hit play that shows no signs of slowing down. The immersive theater experience co-created by Windy City Playhouse Artistic Director Amy Rubenstein is truly unique and it’s not at all beyond the possibility that this show could become Chicago’s next Million Dollar Quartet, as far as a show that went on an open run for several years.

The show centers around a house party containing four couples in Ashford Georgia on June 30th, 1961. Ellie and Beau Couttier (Sarah Grant and Michael McKeogh) are hosting Suzanne Wellington’s 40th birthday party and it doesn’t start off very well after the caterer doesn’t show up, and the Couttier’s are forced to throw together appetizers and desserts. Scrambling through their refrigerator and cabinets, the two throw together frosting on graham crackers, Cheez-it on crackers and other fun creations. As guests arrive, the party starts off on a light note but quickly goes off the rails as secrets come out and Tucker Alsworth (Ben Page) shows up with Cassie Smith (Arielle Leverett), a woman of color – in 1961 Georgia, where, for many, it was acceptable to enjoy Harry Belafonte on the radio but not socially acceptable to have him over for dinner. As the play progresses, multiple story lines take shape - each fascinating in their own right, with everything eventually coming together quite nicely.

So…the dialogue is riveting and the performances outstanding. Sounds like a solid production, but why all the fuss?

Because, you – the audience, are invited to the party – like, really. And, if you’re like me – someone who enjoys going out but prefers to avoid mundane small talk with acquaintances or strangers, this party is for you.

Audience members can gather in the front yard area of the mid-century modern home or choose to travel from room to room in its interior. There’s not a bad seat in the house (literally). The story moves from room to room (even the bathroom) and you, as the “invited guest” can choose to follow whichever story line you like. There are benches along the walls of the home if you prefer to sit for a bit, but chances are you’ll be moving back and forth a fair amount of the time to collect as much action as possible. And don’t be shy. Feel free to grab any of the snacks that the Couttier’s provide for the guests. Tom Collins are also served (non-alcoholic version available upon prior request). It’s a party! And all you have to do is sit back (and/or walk around) and soak in a hilarious party gone wrong.

Of course, the audience (limited to 30 guests for obvious space reasons) is asked to do their best to stay along the walls and not interact with the actors, who by the way are spectacular at focusing on each other despite the distraction of a moving crowd. Yes, each finely-tuned actor is dialed into their character and the others as though the audience did not exist.

Superbly directed by David H. Bell and wonderfully written by Leslie Liataud, the play includes a great amount of humor, comes with a handful of intriguing story lines, includes eight stand out performances and a set that will certainly make many reminisce about their childhood home (depending on how old one is) or maybe their grandparents house thanks to the fine attention to detail by the talented Windy City Playhouse design team.

Victor Holstein as Charles Lyon, Erin Barlow as Lauren Lyon, Paul Fage as Jackson Wellington and Amy Malcom as birthday girl, Suzanne Wellington round out a splendid cast, that, along with the other actors already mentioned, create a most memorable night for audience members in this very special production.

Do not be deterred by the $90-$100 ticket prices – steep at first glance – but it’s really not. This brilliantly put together show is well worth the cost of admission as it is something you cannot experience anywhere else. In fact, you might even opt to see the play more than once just so you can follow a different story line or see it from a different perspective. There’s a reason this play is a hit and is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Highest recommendation.

‘Southern Gothic’ is being performed at Windy City Playhouse South indefinitely. For tickets and/or more show information, visit windycityplayhouse.com.

*Extended through October 27th

“I’m a better version of myself, when I’m by myself,” says Nora in Lucas Hnath’s sequel to Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. The play takes place some fifteen years after her departure at the end of the original play. Steppenwolf is one of the first regional theaters to revive the 2017 Broadway blockbuster, which starred Steppenwolf ensemble member Laurie Metcalf. Both Hnath and Metcalf were nominated for Tony awards for the play, Metcalf taking home the Best Actress award.

With the exception of ‘Grease 2’, sequels are rarely good. That said, it’s an interesting thing when done in theatre. In recent years we’ve seen a sequel to ‘Hamlet’, ‘The Crucible’ and now Ibsen’s feminist drama ‘A Doll’s House’. Before groaning, “but they’re ruining it!” consider that Hnath’s script stands alone and is probably closer to a satire than a direct sequel. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ picks up at the very door Nora slams at the end of Ibsen’s play. It is fifteen years later, and she comes back with a favor to ask of her ex-husband. What follows is a humorous manifesto in defense of being single. And no, you don’t need to remember the fine points of Ibsen’s original to enjoy Hnath’s updated version.

Sadly, Laurie Metcalf is not joining this revival but that’s just fine because ensemble member Sandra Marquez is well suited for the role. It’s a short play, just barely hitting the 90-minute mark, but in that time there’s a perfect banter between Nora and her former governess Anne-Marie, played by the indelible Barbara E. Robertson. Marquez spends every moment of the play on stage and that often includes swaths of monologue. In a costume designed by Izumi Inaba, her performance is captivating. She nails all the jokes and maybe even finds new humor in the script. Though short, her scene with Celeste M Cooper is ripe with tension. Cooper plays her estranged daughter with a cool and mysterious sense of doublespeak.

If a ‘A Doll’s House’ is about the suffocation of marriage, then ‘Part 2’ is more of a denunciation of pairing off in general. In fact, Nora mentions that you’re not marrying the person you’ll end up with, you’re marrying who they are right now. And people change. This observation alone is somewhat disturbing but truly encapsulates the message Hnath is getting at. The play ends abruptly but the point is made. Maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, but like Marquez’ performance, it takes a lot of strength to stand on one’s own.

Director Robn Witt’s vision for this show is cool. We would imagine that anything in the world of Ibsen would be typical high production cost period piece. Witt strips it down for a minimal approach, nearly the only color is the bright yellow door Nora comes in, and then out of again. The costumes suggest period, but the dialogue is exceptionally modern. Though there are Voss water bottles on stage, we never forget what time period we are in. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ at Steppenwolf is a near perfect revival that doesn’t go in for a carbon copy of the Broadway production. A major difference is that there’s on-stage seating for an even more intimate look. A good example of why it’s usually best to skip the national tour if you live in Chicago.

Through March 17 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

If there’s ever been a time for Paula Vogel’s 1997 Pulitzer Prize winner ‘How I Learned to Drive’ it’s now. In the wake of the #metoo movement, a play about a young woman being taken advantage of by her older uncle seems extremely relevant. Under the direction of Raven Theatre artistic director Cody Estle, ‘How I Learned to Drive’ makes its second appearance in Chicago this year. Artistic Home revived it in the spring.

If you’re wondering which one was better, it’s Raven’s. The combination of strong direction and even stronger performances makes this a more solid production. This play hinges on the lead actress in the role of Li’l Bit. Eliza Stoughton turns in a powerhouse performance. She’s consistent throughout the 90-minute run time. The script moves in quick vignettes that span from her teenage years until the present. It’s not an easy feat to make the teenage version of the character as dynamic as the grown version. Stoughton strikes the perfect balance, picking up on the nuances of Vogel’s complex script. Though, it’s not just her that makes this cast so great. Kathryn Acosta is double cast as Li’l Bit’s mother and her aunt. She achieves the humor of the dialogue in a subtle way with all the appearance and poise of a brunette Betty Draper.

Cody Estle’s vision for this show is very definitive. Scene transitions are accented with captivating projections that place the audience right into the 1960s. Again, think ‘Mad Men’. There’s a branded quality to this show that feels exceedingly professional. The art of subtlety might be the real star. Estle has mined this play for all the psychological tells of abuse that Vogel nestles into the dialogue. The characters never go over the top, which can easily be done in such a juicy play. This feels like real life despite Vogel’s unique storytelling device of driving lessons as a means to propel the action.

‘How I Learned to Drive’ is by now a modern American classic. Perhaps too risqué for high school drama, but it now finds itself within the cannon beside ‘Rabbit Hole’ and ‘Dinner with Friends.’ An essential play for our modern times. Vogel has continued to be a voice for women in an art that is even still somewhat dominated by male playwrights. Raven Theatre does the script its justice in a time in which it would be nearly impossible to separate it from the #metoo and #timesup movements. Perhaps Vogel was eerily ahead of her time. If you’ve been meaning to see a faithful production of this play, Raven Theatre Company has you covered.

Through March 24 at Raven Theatre Company. 6157 N Clark St. 773-338-2177

Six spectacular actors bring deeply moving performances under director Cheryl Lynn Bruce in Dominique Morisseau’s Pipeline.

The capacity crowd who braved six-degree weather to show up at the Biograph Theatre on Lincoln Ave. were richly rewarded by this exceptional production. But you kind of have to go when a Morisseau premiere beckons. I for one am invested in her work now, having been wowed by two of her three Detroit cycle plays - Skeleton Crew at Skokie's Northlight Theatre last year and Paradise Blue at the tiny TimeLine Theatre on Wellington the year prior. (Just by coincidence, Morisseau's 2017 play, now having its Chicago premiere, was also broadcast nationally by PBS last night from another ongoing production - the one at Lincoln Center in New York.)

Pipeline is lauded for its topicality around the current issue of young black males too easily at risk of entering a pipeline to jail. And it also touches on the merits of inner-city public community schools versus private education.

But perhaps even more powerfully, it highlights the debilitating effects of our society's racism-based social dysfunction. In Pipeline this adverse miasma infiltrates the emotional lives of the middle class parents of a teenage boy, Omari (a kinetic performance by Matthew Elam). A slight, sensitive poetic youth who seems an unlikely candidate to become a thug, Omari gets into trouble after inexplicably assaulting his high school English teacher.

Pipeline also showcases Morisseau’s prowess for examining the inner lives of interesting personalities, the forces that energize them as people, all against the contemporary societal backdrop. In Pipeline there is a specificity to these characters – six fully-formed individuals, no tropes or archetypes.

You will be touched by these exceptional people, and by the compelling performances that bring them to life. When the play opens on a sparse stage, Omari's mother Nya (Tyla Abercrumbie – who is devastatingly good), a public high school teacher, is leaving a voice message for her ex, and Omari's dad, Xavier (Mark Spates Smith), detailing their son’s predicament: that he may be expelled from his private school and possibly be charged criminally with assault.  

Nya leaves a lengthy voice mail in which her language stumbles and runs aground – a sets a tone for the remainder of the 90-minute show. Repeating and rephrasing that 60-second message, Nya shows her inner self and internal conflicts. The scene cues the audience to listen to the language for the rest of the show, for it will communicate on multiple levels.

Pipeline is also literary, revisiting at several points Gwendolyn Brooks in a poetic remix of We Real Cool – the 24-word masterpiece the perfectly captures a cry of lost youth: 

We Real Cool

THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL. 
We real cool. We
Left school. We 
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We 
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon. 

Courtesy The Poetry Foundation

The event that triggered Omari’s rage was also literary: a classroom discussion in which his teacher over-aggressively called on him to discuss Richard Wright’s Native Son character, Bigger Thomas. “He was asking me in that room, in that way,” Omari tells his mother, his language suggesting that as an African-American, he is a rarity in his class. “I don’t want to be the token respondent.”

And in fact, as Omari later tells his father about the incident, he says he was feeling upset that his dad sent him financial support like clockwork, but never delivered his love. “Guys say they want their dad, but it’s overrated,” Omari says. The child support he gets from him “does the biology, but it doesn’t do the soul.”

This is a play for actors, because Morisseau gives each of the characters a show-stopping soliloquy, or ranting digression. You’ll want to stand up and cheer for Security Guard Dun (Ronald L. Conner) in “I Do My Job,” weep after Omari’s double-barreled unloading to his dad Xavier. Or laugh and applaud, for Aurora Real De Asua’s Jasmine – Omari’s girlfriend; and Janet Ulrichs Brooks as the teacher, Laurie - both of whom provide measured lightheartedness to the show. 

This production of Pipeline runs through March 1 at the Victory Gardens Theatre in Chicago. It’s highly recommended that you don’t miss it.

My gateway to Nina Simone fandom came when I was a kid, watching some crummy 90's action movie that was somehow soundtracked by Ms. Simone’s music. Her take on George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” was both recognizable to young me as a Beatles tune, but it was also strange, alien, powerful, wistful, something completely different than anything I’d heard before. Not the song. But the singer. It was a gateway, for sure.

From there, I ended up with a CD reissue of her late-60s Sings the Blues album, an even better introduction for a clueless young white boy to this complicated genius — one with toe-tappers, showtunes, pop tunes, and yes, the blues. Perhaps the most powerful tune on there, perhaps one even too powerful for me at the time, was Langston Hughes’ “Backlash Blues,” which laments that “the world is big and bright and round and it’s full of folks like me who are black, yellow, beige, and brown.”

In the years since, I’ve grown, as my love and understanding of Nina Simone — the musician, the public figure, the strong woman, and the complex human being — has grown. And now maybe I’m old enough or wise enough or just ready to appreciate the picture of this woman and “folks like” her that Christina Ham’s Nina Simone: Four Women paints for us, as currently performed at Skokie’s Northlight Theatre, directed by Kenneth L. Roberson.

The play itself is named for one of Ms. Simone’s most powerful compositions, one about women “who are black, yellow, beige, and brown.” But it is also framed around what is perhaps an imagined 1960's fever dream of Ms. Simone’s, in the wake of the horrific 1963 bombing of Birmingham’s historic 16th Street Baptist Church in which four beautiful little African-American girls were murdered.

In the play, Ms. Simone is joined in the church’s wreckage by three other African-American women, each of them representing someone Nina sang about in “Four Women.” Above, I wondered if the play’s setting and the four women’s existence are perhaps imagined, based not only on Ms. Simone’s actual history, but her history of mental illness, as well.

The truth is, perhaps, somewhere in between, and that makes the play work. There are hints at Ms. Simone’s mental health throughout the play — voices and sounds she hears — but they don’t completely define her. And there are, for me at least, distracting bits of expository history — biographical details that might be fleshed out if this were a more standard “jukebox musical” — but I didn’t let them get in the way of the four women onstage. And those four women are what make the play work.

First, Sydney Charles is Nina Simone. And is she ever. I heard the rare complaint after the show that her character didn’t feel quite human. But that affect — that coldness, that stateliness, that hurt — seemed to me so in character. Ms. Charles voice, while very good, doesn’t quite match the richness and depth of Ms. Simone’s, but I’m not sure anyone’s does. But as the play went on, Charles’ voice grows stronger, as does her performance, until she is raging, proud, and loud at the world.

The strongest performance comes from the woman who shares the stage the longest with Ms. Charles — Deanna Reed-Foster’s Sarah. What could have veered into the territory of stereotype is fleshed out and deep thanks to the work of Ms. Reed-Foster, a Chicago actress whose work I realized I’ve seen on the TV show, Chicago Fire. If Nina Simone was perhaps superhuman in some ways and unable to convey the tenderness of humanity in others, “Auntie Sarah” gives the show its human and humane center, moving from fear to anger, from joy to sorrow, filling the theater with her beautiful voice and grounding the stage and the story on it.

The other two actresses in the show, Ariel Richardson and Melanie Brezill, also shine. Ms. Richardson brings us the 1960's modern woman, polished and self-assured, while Brezill (who was a highlight last year on the stage of the Chicago Children’s Theatre) shimmies, struts, and slurs as a more worldly woman, doing so in the performance I saw on a broken stiletto heel! The piano accompaniment and musical direction is provided by Daniel Riley, himself a part of the show for much of the evening.

So, while this play is not a standard jukebox musical about, nor a factual portrait of, one of our most gifted and enigmatic musical geniuses, I think it works because it is neither. Nina Simone couldn’t and cannot be separated from her music or her times or who she was or who people think she is. And, soundtracked by wonderful live performances of many of Ms. Simone’s most powerful songs, Nina Simone: Four Women doesn’t try to do any of those things. It lets Nina’s words and Nina’s music tell a story, even if her own story cannot be told.

Elektra must have been a Scorpio. Strauss’ intense one-act opera ‘Elektra’ is a classic tale of revenge set to some of the most thrilling music ever composed. Originally directed by Sir David McVicar at the Lyric in 2012, Remy Bummpo artistic director Nick Sandys helms the revival this season.

Clocking in at a mere one hour and forty minutes, this brief but highly concentrated opera is as exciting as it is macabre. Violence in opera is more often conveyed through music than staging, but in this production brutality flows through the set and costumes. At once the one-set stage is overpoweringly effective in creating a dark, atmospheric experience. John Macfarlane presents a strikingly unique aesthetic that heightens Strauss’ sense of horror.

Richard Strauss collaborated on ‘Elektra’ with librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal. It held its world premiere in 1909 and has continued to be crowd pleaser ever since. Strauss helped bring the psychological elements dominating literature to the opera stage. In that regard, ‘Elektra’ is a very modern opera. His composition style also suggests the foundations of modern film scores. The music of ‘Elektra’ quickly moves from soaring to dark in the space of a breath.

This is an opera that requires a strong voice and a talented actress. Luckily, this production has two. Nina Stemme makes her Lyric debut in the title role. Eliza Van Den Heever returns to the Lyric to play Chrysothemis, Elektra’s sympathetic sister. While Elektra is the lead and Stemme does an amazing job, Heever makes Chrysothemis just as integral. Together with Michaela Marten as the wicked Klytamnestra, they create a trifecta of female power. With the exception of Orest (Iain Paterson) there aren’t many male voices in this opera. That’s entirely okay as these three women dominate the stage in a most satisfying way.

‘Elektra’ is an essential opera in the same vein as ‘Faust’. For those with only a tepid interest in opera, this 100-minute production is entirely accessible. There’s a cinematic quality to the music and the staging that leaves nary an empty moment. If that isn’t enough, just wait until the stage literally gushes blood.

Through February 22 at Lyric Opera of Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600