Items filtered by date: June 2026

Patti LuPone’s long-running concert piece Matters of the Heart unfolded on the stage of the National Historic Landmark The Auditorium Theatre not as a greatest-hits parade, but as a seasoned artist’s intimate conversation with her own past. Premiering some 25 years ago at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theater in New York City, the show has aged not into nostalgia, but into something more textured: a living scrapbook of memory, mischief, heartbreak, and hard-won grace.

LuPone has always commanded a fiercely loyal LGBTQ following, and the sold-out house in Chicago testified to that enduring bond. The atmosphere felt at times like a cabaret. You could sense an audience primed not merely to applaud, but to commune. There was something for everyone here—Broadway diehards, pop romantics, and those who come for the diva energy and stay for the vulnerability.

Accompanied by a pianist and a string quartet, LuPone curated a program that balanced theatrical bravura with intimate confession. Her Broadway selections landed with the authority of a performer who has lived inside these songs. “I’m In Love with a Wonderful Guy” from South Pacific sparkled; “Not a Day Goes By” from Merrily We Roll Along unfurled in aching, mature regret. “Being Alive” from Company—the great anthem of ambivalent longing—rang with the clarity of someone who has wrestled with love and come back wiser, if not unscarred. “Back to Before” from Ragtime surged with emotional velocity, while her unexpected, intriguingly restrained take on “Easy to Be Hard” from Hair reframed youthful protest as weary, rueful remembrance.

LuPone’s comic timing remains lethal. Her wry humor bubbled up in “Shattered Illusions,” “Better Off Dead,” and “I Never Do Anything Twice,” songs that let her weaponize self-awareness and mischief in equal measure. She skewers romance and ego with relish, but never without implicating herself in the joke. This is the diva who knows her myth and plays with it. And the surprises. “God Only Knows” by The Beach Boys arrived like a soft confession, stripped of pop gloss and steeped in tenderness. “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper was rendered not as a radio staple but as a promise dedicated to her family. These choices reveal LuPone’s instinct for emotional translation, taking familiar songs and making them speak in a new dialect.

Most affecting were the quieter moments, where LuPone let her guard down. In “Unexpressed,” “Alone Again (Naturally),” “The Air That I Breathe,” “Sand and Water,” “My Father,” and “Look Mummy, No Hands,” she showed a softer, contemplative side—less brassy legend, more vulnerable human being. These songs felt like pages torn from a private journal, offered up without ornament. It was here that Matters of the Heart earned its title.

LuPone, being the diva that she be, did get into a little kerfuffle this past summer with the theatre community. She apologized, took responsibility and, as these things tend to go in a resilient artistic ecosystem, everyone seems to have moved on. There are bigger issues pressing on the country today, and this evening reminded us that art’s role is not to litigate old wounds, but to open space for empathy.

In a moment when America feels increasingly brittle, Matters of the Heart lands as a small act of emotional repair. We could all use more love in this country right now—more listening, more generosity of spirit, more room for contradiction. LuPone, in all her fire and fragility, offered exactly that: a reminder that hearts break, heal, and, if we’re lucky, learn to sing again.

National Historic Landmark

The Auditorium

50 E Ida B Wells Dr, Chicago, IL 60605

312.341.2300

Paul Slade Smith’s Unnecessary Farce - a 2006 comic whirlwind that is fast becoming a modern staple of the genre - lands with full force in Buffalo Theatre Ensemble’s lively production at The McAninch Arts Center in Glen Ellyn. The show is a reminder of how exhilarating a well‑constructed farce can be when every door slam, double‑take, and spiraling misunderstanding is executed with precision.

The setup couldn’t be more straightforward: two green cops stake out a bargain‑basement motel, poised to catch a small‑town mayor admitting to embezzlement. The camera is trained on the adjoining room, the accountant is prepped to draw out the confession, and everything should go smoothly. Naturally, it doesn’t. What follows is an avalanche of mistaken identities, disappearing clothing, and panicked improvisation as characters burst through the wrong doors at precisely the wrong time.

Smith’s script operates like a beautifully rigged Rube Goldberg machine of mayhem, each beat triggering the next with wicked precision. The comedy lands not because anyone is a cartoon, but because these poor, well‑meaning souls are desperately – hilariously - outmatched by the situation. And just when the chaos feels like it can’t possibly escalate further, in stomps a thick‑accented Scottish hitman, sending the whole affair hurtling into a delirious, side‑splitting crescendo that has the audience laughing at both the gags and the sheer engineering genius behind them.

The production thrives on the strength of a sharply attuned ensemble, each performer bringing a distinct spark that fuels the play’s escalating hilarity. Lisa Dawn, as the ever‑frazzled accountant Karen Brown, and Brad Lawrence, playing the straight‑laced Officer Eric Sheridan, ignite the evening with a rhythm that blends sharp comedic timing and buoyant physicality. Their energy sets the tone long before Frank Nall ambles in as Mayor Meekly, whose beautifully understated, steady presence becomes even funnier as he’s swept - again and again - into one absurd predicament after another.

Laura Leonardo Ownby, as the ever‑eager Billie Dwyer, injects the show with a burst of quick‑witted, slightly off‑kilter energy that’s instantly endearing. There’s a touch of Julie Hagerty in her wide‑eyed charm—funny, irresistible, and just unpredictable enough to keep the audience leaning in. When she hits her big moment, she lands it so cleanly and with such delightful abandon that the crowd breaks into spontaneous applause. Stepping in for Robert Koon for this performance, David Scott Crawford takes on the role of Todd with an easy confidence and a nimble, quick‑thinking presence. He slips into the ensemble’s rhythm without a hitch, matching their pace and tone so naturally that the substitution feels entirely organic.

Doreen Dawson, as Mary Meekly, offers a warm, steady presence that subtly elevates the entire ensemble, giving every twist, turn, and impeccably timed door‑slam an extra spark of comedic payoff. And closing out the company, Bryan Burke storms in as Agent Frank - uproariously funny and armed with expertly dialed‑in bluster that sends the chaos over the top in the best possible way. He leans into the character’s bluster and bravado with such sharp comic instinct that every entrance, line, and reaction becomes its own little punchline. Burke’s presence adds a final, satisfying jolt of absurdity to the ensemble’s chaos. I remember really enjoying his performance in Buffalo Theatre Ensemble’s Native Gardens. That same sharp instinct for timing and that wonderfully unforced comedic presence show up again here.

Together, this ensemble operates like a finely tuned comic engine - fully committed, perfectly synchronized, and clearly delighted by the demands of farce. Their collective precision makes the escalating madness feel effortless, transforming the production into something that doesn’t just execute farce, but celebrates it.

Superbly directed by Kurt Naebig, Buffalo Theatre Ensemble embraces the play’s breakneck rhythm and gleeful silliness, delivering a production that feels both tightly engineered and joyfully unhinged. It’s the kind of show that rewards timing, commitment, and a willingness to lean into the ridiculous - and this staging at The MAC does exactly that.

A crowd‑pleaser from start to finish, Unnecessary Farce proves once again that when farce is done right, it’s irresistible.

For tickets and/or more show information, visit https://atthemac.org/events/unnecessary-farce/.

Back in simpler times, what seems like decades ago, during a global pandemic, I remember watching an NPR Tiny Desk Concert featuring the Broadway cast of Little Shop of Horrors. In the middle of the string of incredible songs from the show, the songs’ composer Alan Menken sat down at the piano and, before playing it, discussed how “Somewhere That’s Green” was a classic “I Want” song, one that enlists us, the audience, on a journey to fulfill a dream.

“Somewhere That’s Green.” “Part of Your World.” “Sante Fe.” Some of my favorite songs, all written by Menken and Howard Ashman. All of them, the spunky upstart in a big, bad world dreaming that the sun’ll come out tomorrow. That things’ll get better. The sort of dreamy songs and dreaming characters and dreamed up worlds that are the reason we go to the theater—the sort of theater that the Marriott Theatre always does right and certainly does in their current production of Little Shop of Horrors.

That dreaming—sweet, delusional, stubbornly human—sits at the heart of this production, anchored beautifully by Jackson Evans’ Seymour. Evans plays Seymour as a cartoonish nerd, yes, but also as an everyman in the truest sense: gentle, unsure, but never empty. His Seymour is the kind of guy you root for, because Evans lets us see the decency beneath the desperation. Even as the body count rises and the moral compromises pile up, there’s something achingly recognizable about his Seymour. He’s all of us.

Opposite him, Maya Rowe delivers a quietly devastating Audrey. “Somewhere That’s Green” lands here not as a kitschy parody of 1950s domestic fantasies, but as a heartbreakingly sincere confession—and at the end it felt and looked like she was singing it right to me. Rowe resists the temptation to overplay Audrey’s quirks, instead grounding her in a bruised realism that makes her longing feel earned. When she dreams of a life that includes frozen dinners and a plastic sofa, Rowe is reminding us that while Little Shop of Horrors may be funny and absurd, it’s also a story about people like each of us, people dreaming of something better. (Side note: A chance encounter in a theater hallway post-show found Rowe’s actual persona as sweet as her onstage Audrey—taking a moment to take a photo with my young daughter and offering words of encouragement to her about her own theatrical dreams.)

Seymour and Audrey’s grounding make the production’s comedic turns all the more effective, particularly when longtime Marriott favorites Andrew Mueller and Mark David Kaplan enter the fray. Mueller brings infectious energy and sharp comic timing—not only to Orin, the biker/dentist/villain whose portrayal by Steve Martin delighted me as a kid), but to a slew of other characters, while Kaplan once again delights with his own comedic and vocal talents. Their work fills out the Skid Row world that we inhabit for a couple of hours without ever pulling focus from its emotional center.

And then, of course, there’s Audrey II, the most iconic carnivorous plant in musical theatre history. The combination of Lorenzo Rush’s velvety, menacing voice work and the precision of the puppet operation is nothing short of thrilling. The puppeteers both sink into the background and provide their own characterizations as leafy parts of Audrey II’s anatomy. The plant feels alive in an unsettling way, its charisma as seductive as its hunger is terrifying. Rush’s performance finds the perfect balance between playful swagger and genuine menace - the audience enjoying the sound of the voice even as we recoil from what it represents. (Although Audrey II’s hilarious pre-show no-phones-or-posting warning seemed to have been unheeded by several oblivious influencers on opening night.)

Still, the beating heart of this Little Shop belongs to the trio of Crystal, Ronnette, and Chiffon. Lydia Burke, Daryn Whitney Harrell, and Miciah Lathan deliver a masterclass in ensemble performance, functioning as Greek chorus, Motown girl group, and omniscient narrators all at once. Their 60s-period-correct harmonies are immaculate, their energy is electric, and each of their vocals are utterly commanding.

All of this talent is corralled and focused by Tommy Rapley’s direction and choreography, which keep the production moving, with the intimacy and magic unique to the Marriott’s in-the-round design. The set design creates a mid-century Skid Row that’s a world where our heroes live. And all of the characters - heroes or villains - are beautifully costumed by Amanda Vander Byl, with amazing wigs and makeup by Miguel A. Armstrong being especially delightful. Meanwhile, the orchestra - so often an unsung hero at the Marriott - delivers Menken’s score with precision, swelling where it should and pulling back when restraint serves the story better.

What ultimately makes this production of Little Shop of Horrors resonate is its refusal to treat the show as a novelty. Yes, it’s funny. Yes, it’s outrageous. Yes, it involves a singing plant from outer space. And yes, the stage ending’s a bit different than the one I remember at the movie theater from my own childhood. But Marriott’s production understands that behind all of this, Little Shop of Horrors does what all great musical theater should do - take its audience on a beautiful journey through a world populated by talented artists whose dreams and desires aren’t that different from our own. Come journey with Marriott Theatre to somewhere that’s green, as Little Shop of Horrors runs now through March 15.

“There’s a fine line between compromise and losing yourself.”

So many of us have that story of a favorite band. A group brought together by a shared passion and realizes they have that special something that can make them huge. So often that passion takes a dramatic turn, and the pressures cloud that rise to fame in a way that no one can quite overcome. Playwright David Adjmi smartly writes that tragedy for the stage. A gut-wrenching story about the many ramifications of talent not quite being enough and realizing only too late that the love for music that made these folks unique got lost along the way.

Masterfully directed by Daniel Aukin, Stereophonic zooms in on a recording studio in 1976. As we witness a band recording their first album, we see the highs and lows of the year-long journey. The early-days excitement, to the exhaustion of the long nights, and finally, to the ending culmination – when it really does come down to making the hard choices in the midst of the many heartbreaks that took place along the way.

A story extending over a year in this way could risk feeling slow, but Aukin’s production is anything but. Aukin theatricalizes Adjmi’s high-stakes drama, creating a tension-filled production that is sure to keep you on the edge of your seat – anxiously wondering when that other shoe will drop. You might find that the sprinkling of Will Butler’s original music enhances that pacing and mood. As the emotional turmoil grows, we see that cleverly reflected in the score – all performed live by the deeply talented cast of musicians.

Aukin’s creative team creates the perfect space for this tension to bubble. Scenic Designer David Zinn beautifully transports the audience into a 1970s recording studio. Though seemingly cozy upon first glance, it quickly becomes clear that the long nights turn this studio into a pressure cooker for a band of five with two sound engineers. As the story unfolds, the space continues to feel increasingly smaller – with nowhere to hide from the interpersonal challenges that have no choice but to bubble and grow.

(From L) Claire DeJean as ‘Diana’, Emilie Kouatchou as ‘Holly’, and Denver Milord as ‘Peter’ in the First National Tour of Stereophonic.

Part of the cleverness of Adjmi’s play is the emphasis on the relationships at the core. Aukin’s ensemble exhibits genuine chemistry – inviting audiences to lean in and feel the heartbreak as they see those bonds crack. Aukin sets up a casual, familiar energy between group members early – an energy that slowly shifts as the story goes on.

The band begins unified under the management of Simon (Cornelius McMoyler). We learn early in the story of the romantic entanglements within the group – married couple Holly (Emilie Kouatchou) and Reg (Christopher Mowod), and Diana (Clare Dejean) and Peter (Denver Milord), a couple who has perhaps been together so long that they cannot find their way out of it. Dejean and Milord infuse a heartbreaking authenticity into their relationship – walking the balance of a couple that clearly loves each other despite the heavy pain on both sides.

Grover (Jack Barrett) and Charlie (Steven Lee Johnson) tie everything together as the sound team in the studio. Lee Johnson’s comedy offers a much-needed light-heartedness to some of the darker moments, and you might find that Grover’s story slowly becomes the heart of the play. As the engineer, he begins on the outside looking in. As Grover becomes more invested, we soon start to see that he might need this record even more than the band members. Barrett’s grounded performance immediately invites the audience to align with him as he fights for it, and to feel his heartbreak when he starts to wonder if everything will fall apart.

With heartfelt performances and a tension-packed story, Stereophonic is simply a must-see. It’s rare to find a packed house so lost in the emotion that they do not know how to handle the final blackout of a performance. This production earned that silence, as well as the uproar of applause that followed.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Run Time: 2 hours and 50 minutes, including intermission

Stereophonic runs through February 8 at the CIBC Theatre. For tickets and information, see the Broadway in Chicago website.

“Salome” is an opera with an amazing backstory, and comes to us at the Lyric Opera with a content advisory (“adult themes, brief nudity, and disturbing imagery”), especially novel considering this work was first mounted in 1905. No wonder, given the beheading and necrophilic kiss that are at the center of the action.

A remount of a "Salome" production developed by Sir David McVicar directed at the Lyric by Julia Burbach, its underlying story is drawn from the New Testament recounts by Mark and Matthew of the beheading of John the Baptist (Johanaan in the German libretto)—the prophet who prepped the public for the arrival of Jesus. This telling was expanded upon by playwright Oscar Wilde for his French stagework, “Salome.” Wilde drew on Baudelaire, Roman historian Josephus, and significantly his imagination, to create dramatic tension.

The Lyric production, relatively short at one hour and forty minutes (no intermission), sets its Roman Judea characters in pre-war fascist Italy. (Guillermo del Toro used that as a backdrop for his version of “Pinnochio”). It’s a good parallel world of greed and entitlement of a debauched Roman aristocracy.

The sets were quite wonderful, centered in a lower stone vault down a sweeping staircase from the banquet hall above. The fascist neoclassic design rests comfortably on stonework evoking Roman foundations, a telling blend of a Roman-era storyline and its placement in pre-WWII Italy.

Throughout, we have a birdseye view of the goings on at the banquet above, while the main action takes place in this lower level, where Jochanaan (baritone Nicholas Brownlee) is held prisoner in a cistern, and which Salome (soprano Jennifer Holloway) chooses as an escape from the untoward overtures of her stepfather Herod (tenor Alex Boyer in the opening performance). He does really creepy things, like ask her to nibble fruit so he can bite where her lips and teeth have touched. Ugh.

In the lower plaza Salome is intrigued by Jochanaan, who rants inside the cistern. A little turned on, Salome asks to meet him. But he refuses her advances, and Salome is offended by his critique against her mother, who he declares to be in an incestuous marriage to Herod. Wilde gives us this as Salome’s motivation for Jochanaan's eventual beheading.

The opera by Richard Strauss compresses Wilde’s play in a German libretto by Hedwig Lachman: a Page (Catherine Martin) lusts after a military officer, Narraboth (tenor Ryan Capozzo). He in turn lusts after Salome, as does Salome’s stepfather Herod.

Herod has promised to behead Jochanaan, Salome’s requested payment for performing “The Dance of the Seven Veils,” a seductive “striptease” incorporated by Wilde in his play. Herod is repulsed by Salome’s demands, but makes good on his promise after the encouragement of Salome’s mother and Herod’s wife Herodias (mezzo-sopranoTanja Ariane Baumgartner). Jochanaan’s bloody head is delivered on a platter to Salome, where she extracts that kiss he’d refused while alive.

A subplot, and a significant portion of the opera, revolves around arguments among Jewish religious leaders (Jews 1 - 5 in the opera) over Jochanaan, who they believe may be the prophet Elias resurrected. Two Nazereen’s disagree, and proclaim they have seen the arrival of the Messiah, who Jochanaan is foretelling.

Surprising for me was the rather lengthy religious discourse among the Jews about the prophet Elias, since it had no bearing on the action of the mostly melodramatic story. Even more surprising is the modernity of the music by Richard Strauss, who is widely known today for “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” the striking tone poem associated with “2001: A Space Odyssey.” He’s also known for Der Rosenkavalier, a conventionally melodic comic opera.

For “Salome” Strauss ventures into what is now regarded as a first foray into a dissonant, modernist score. More like Schonberg than Mozart. That also makes “Salome” especially musically noteworthy. But as a listener, this opera was not my cup of tea. The storyline takes a lot of drilling down to appreciate, and the music is warm but not melodic. Still, Lyric gives us a fine production even if it was something I could not fully enjoy.

"Salome" runs through February 14, 2026 at the Lyric Opera of Chicago.

The Gaylord and Dorothy Donnelley Foundation (GDDF) is pleased to announce it awarded more than $1.76 million in grants to 66 of Chicago's small arts organizations and arts advocacy organizations in 2025. Twenty-seven Chicago area arts organizations received multiyear grants of $30,000 or more.

Additionally, GDDF granted $725,000 to the Arts Work Fund for Organizational Development last year, joining together with other funders to provide emergency funding and other support in response to recent challenges faced by arts organizations.

"As part of our Chicago Artistic Vitality program, the foundation, along with our arts philanthropy partners, increased our contribution to the funder collaborative Arts Work Fund," said Ellen Placey Wadey, senior program director for Chicago Arts & Collections at GDDF. "With an ability to deploy funds quickly and for immediate capacity needs, Arts Work Fund is a critical partnership in these difficult times for arts organizations."

"This has been a challenging year for many of our grantee partners, including the loss of significant sources of funding," said Arnold Randall, executive director of GDDF. "The Gaylord and Dorothy Donnelley Foundation remains steadfast in our commitment to our mission, values, and program areas, and in our support for the work of our grantees."

The Chicago arts grantees are a portion of the $7,538,880 in grants that GDDF provided to 128 organizations in the Chicago region and the Lowcountry of South Carolina across the foundation's three program areas in 2025: Artistic Vitality, Broadening Narratives, and Land Conservation. GDDF is currently funding more than 150 small arts organizations in the Chicago region through its multi-year general operating grants.

Among GDDF's 2025 Chicago arts grantees are nonprofit advocacy and support organizations Arts Alliance Illinois ($75,000) and Enrich Chicago ($60,000). Additional Chicago Artistic Vitality grantees receiving $40,500 grants include American Indian Center of Chicago, Black Arts & Culture Alliance of Chicago, Raven Theatre Company, Red Clay Dance Company, Remy Bumppo Theatre Company, Sisters in Cinema, South Chicago Dance Theatre, Theater Wit, and Trickster Cultural Center. Arts organizations receiving grants of $36,000 include Teatro Vista, The Chicago Poetry Center, and Visceral Dance Chicago.

A full list of GDDF's 2025 Chicago Artistic Vitality grantees follows at the end of this release.

"We also strive to offer support in ways grounded in trust and shared values," Randall added. "Most of our grants are multiyear general operating support. Beyond funding, we create opportunities to convene and collaborate, and we connect grantees with training and other capacity-building resources. Now more than ever it is vital to champion the power of art, conserve and protect our land, and share the stories that tell us who we are."

GDDF makes grants twice a year and prioritizes multiyear general operating support. In 2025, more than 68% of grants were for general operating support. GDDF also provides project, planning, technical assistance, and cash reserve funding. Program staff made more than 400 personal connections with grantees this year through calls, meetings, field visits, and attendance at performances.

2025 GDDF Funding by Region and Program

Chicago Region
$4,781,000 to 88 organizations

Artistic Vitality: $2,489,000

Broadening Narratives: $690,000

Land Conservation: $1,602,000

Lowcountry of South Carolina

$2,757,880 to 40 organizations

Artistic Vitality: $707,880.00

Broadening Narratives: $550,000

Land Conservation: $1,500,000

2025 Chicago Artistic Vitality Grantees

Arts Work Fund for Organizational Development ($725,000)

Arts Alliance Illinois ($75,0 00)

Enrich Chicago ($60,000)

American Indian Center of Chicago ($40,500)

Black Arts & Culture Alliance of Chicago ($40,500)

Raven Theatre Company ($40,500)

Red Clay Dance Company ($40,500)

Remy Bumppo Theatre Company ($40,500)

Sisters in Cinema ($40,500)

South Chicago Dance Theatre ($40,500)

Theater Wit ($40,500)

Trickster Cultural Center ($40,500)

Teatro Vista ($36,000)

The Chicago Poetry Center ($36,000)

Visceral Dance Chicago ($36,000)

Chicago Art Department ($30,000)

eta Creative Arts Foundation, Inc. ($30,000)

Free Street Theater ($30,000)

Fulcrum Point New Music Project ($30,000)

Griffin Theatre Company ($30,000)

Joel Hall Dancers and Center ($30,000)

Kalapriya ($30,000)

Korean Performing Arts Institute of Chicago ($30,000)

Latitude Chicago ($30,000)

Praize Productions ($30,000)

PRIDEARTS Center ($30,000)

The Gift Theatre Company ($30,000)

Theatre Y ($30,000)

Lifeline Theatre ($27,000)

Cerqua Rivera Dance Theatre ($25,500)

City Lit Theater Company ($25,500)

Jackalope Theatre Company ($25,500)

Oak Park Festival Theatre ($25,500)

Sones de Mexico Ensemble ($25,500)

Trap Door Theatre ($25,500)

Haymarket Opera Company ($25,000)

Oak Park Festival Theatre ($25,000)

Roman Susan Art Foundation ($25,000)

6018North ($22,500)

AAMPA African American Museum of Performing Arts ($22,500)

Aguijon Theater Company ($22,500)

Guild Complex ($22,500)

Khecari ($22,500)

Make-Believe Association ($22,500)

MPAACT ($22,500)

NAJWA Dance Corps ($22,500)

Redtwist Theatre ($22,500)

Rembrandt Chamber Musicians ($22,500)

Riverside Arts Center ($22,500)

Roman Susan Art Foundation ($22,500)

Rough House Theater Company ($22,500)

The Paper Machete ($22,500)

Winifred Haun and Dancers ($22,500)

La Caccina ($18,000)

Mad Shak Dance Company ($18,000)

Zephyr Dance Ensemble ($18,000)

South Side Community Art Center ($15,000)

Full Spectrum Features ($13,500)

Third Coast Percussion ($13,500)

Gender Fucked Productions ($12,000)

Piven Theatre Workshop ($12,000)

Red Theater Chicago ($12,000)

Sixty Inches From Center ($10,000)

DanceWorks Chicago ($8,500)

Heaven Gallery ($8,500)

Pegasus Theatre Chicago ($7,500)

Symphony of Oak Park and River Forest ($7,500)

The Gaylord and Dorothy Donnelley Foundation supports land conservation, artistic vitality, and regional collections for the people of the Chicago region and the Lowcountry of South Carolina. The Foundation seeks to sustain and build resilient, vital, engaged, and equitable communities in these two regions by supporting conservation, arts, and collecting organizations that broaden narratives. For more information, visit gddf.org.

I WANNA BE A COWBOY is a song by Boys Don’t Cry (lovin’ that band name!).  MY LIFE AS A COWBOY is a play by Hugo Timbrell playing its American premiere at Open Space Arts Theatre. Yippee yo ky yay! and similar assertions of glee and approval!

Art is intersectional, and Timbrell’s wonderful queer coming-of-age comedy is indeed about I Wanna Be a cowboy, or a musician, or a dancer – anything other than what I am right now.  We can all relate to the longing of Conor (Octavio Montes De Oca), a queer, somewhat dweeby 17-year-old boy, to escape the constraints of his small South London town of Croyden.

Momina Shahzad is terrific as Conor’s bestie Zainab, a whirling collage of Muslim prickliness, uncompromising opinions, multi-faceted creativity, and affection for Conor. Oh, and she vehemently dislikes cats, but she’s so appealing that I – yes, even I! – can forgive her that. Much of the action occurs in Conor’s bedroom where, despite meagre space for dancing, Zainab proposes not only to create original choreography but perform it beside Conor at the Croyden Talent Show.

Cut to the town swimming pool where Conor works as a lifeguard, blowing his whistle at illicit diving, spontaneous nudity, and peeing in the pool. He’s a zealous lifeguard, even under skitting from his co-worker Michael (Ben Chalex), who calls Conor’s keenness ‘weird’. Despite this Conor poignantly persists in trying to connect with him.

Actually, Michael describes as ‘weird’ anything beyond the bounds of his limited (not to say jingoistic) experience. In his defense, he scrupulously corrals his taunting within the bounds of cheekiness without straying into frank homophobia, allowing us to see Michael as nowt worse than a provoking bloke. We’re even more endeared when he admits to a secret dream of his own and is willing to challenge his own bloody-mindedness in pursuit of that dream.

De Oca skillfully portrays the courage required for Conor to tell Michael of his plans to enter the Croyden Talent Show as a country-western dancer. Michael rewards Conor’s courage by disclosing that he is himself a musician and in no time, they find they’re a team: Conor will dance to Michael’s original composition, Ballad of the Lifeguards. [BTW, I was having repeated flashbacks to a certain San Francisco bar that hosted gay line dancing – an unforgettable spectacle].

It’s all aces until Conor collides with his commitment to Zainab, who misfortunately hates men. The result is predictable: Zainab is majorly brassed off, which exacerbates Michael’s performance anxiety, and poor Conor, whose idea this was in the first place! may be left with neither musical accompaniment, a dance partner, nor even friends.

Hugo Timbrell keeps everyone’s trousers zipped and lets the characters tell the story of trust, courage, friendship, and discovery. The result is hysterically funny. I don’t normally much cotton to comedies, finding too many of them tasteless, coarse, offensive, and decidedly not funny. But have you ever heard a television laugh track?  I much prefer nails on chalkboard or elevator muzik over a television laugh track, but it gave me an important insight. Comedy may be the most difficult role for an actor to play, and only when the actor(s) is (are) exceptionally skilled is the result actually funny. And sitcoms are not known for employing exceptionally skilled actors [Robin Williams being the exception that proves the rule]. But here Hugo Tumbrill wrote a masterly script, the 3 actors were amazing, the entire creative team was brilliant, and MY LIFE AS A COWBOY was very, very funny. Oh! and I nearly forgot another essential ingredient for successful comedy: occasional aliquots of sorrow. DeOca’s depiction of Conor’s grief as his friends dropped away made my throat tighten.

And how ‘bout that brilliant creative team? Top billing must, IMHO, go to Director David Zak. In his artisanal hands the performance was tender, truthful and uproariously funny – even to the likes of me! David Zak has been a beacon in Chicago LGBTQ+ theatre for >30 years so it’s axiomatic that Open Space Arts has thrived under his furtherance.

Bravo Jade Andrews’ costume design! All three leather jackets were masterworks, and I nearly swooned at those boots!! Choreographer Kevin Chlapecka created a perfect dance for Zainab’s. Devin Meseke created just the sort of spare and accommodating set OSA’s teensy proportions requires; the wardrobe/closet was a triumph, allowing Conor’s frequent costume changes to occur onstage under Ethan Brentlinger’s accommodating lights. Zach Stinett molded a great mélange of the numerous scene-defining sounds. And as for Stage Manager Eliza Tryon, assisted by Baneet Chawla … years ago I naïvely asked a more knowledgeable friend, “what does a stage manager actually do?” their reply: “Everything.” Yup.

You gotta see MY LIFE AS A COWBOY! It’s brilliant, thought-provoking family fun. In fact, here’s a notion: this would the perfect introduction to ‘The Gay World’, one even your great-aunt Margaret from Omaha could both enjoy and understand. It is, after all, not actually about ‘The Gay World’ [don’t tell great-aunt Margaret], but simply about the complexities of human beings getting along with other human beings. Even great-aunt Margaret can’t be too scandalized by the notion that queers are human beings.

The show closed with a delightful lagniappe: a Q&A with all three actors and David Zak describing their personal journeys with MY LIFE AS A COWBOY – this is when I learned the first rehearsal was January 9. No surprise that Zak needed only 17 days for creation – Jehovah himself required but 7 for the whole megillah.

This American premiere of MY LIFE AS A COWBOY plays through February 8 at Open Space Arts Theater. Get your tickets early: OSA seats only $25!

VERY Highly Recommended!

*Extended through March 1st

At the Auditorium Theatre, a building that itself carries the muscle memory of American performance history, the Martha Graham Dance Company marked its 100th anniversary with an evening that felt less like a retrospective than a living argument for why Graham still matters. This was not modern dance preserved in amber. It was modern dance breathing—angular, emotional, political, and insistently present.

Artistic Director Janet Eilber framed the evening with contextual remarks that were both generous and incisive, situating each work within Graham’s evolving artistic philosophy while emphasizing the company’s commitment to keeping these dances alive rather than embalmed. Founded in 1926, the Martha Graham Dance Company stands as the oldest modern dance company in the world, and its influence is nearly impossible to overstate. Graham shattered ballet’s decorative restraint, replacing it with contraction and release, emotional excavation, and a radical insistence that the body could think, rage, mourn, and remember. Entire generations of choreographers—from Merce Cunningham to Paul Taylor to Alvin Ailey—emerged from her orbit.

The first half of the program traced an emotional arc from love to grief to collective urgency. Diversion of Angels opened the evening with its luminous exploration of love’s many incarnations. Structured lyrically rather than narratively, the ballet presents three couples—youthful, mature, and seasoned—each embodying a different phase of intimacy. Norman Dello Joio’s undulating score supports movement that is buoyant yet grounded, joyful without sentimentality. The work’s Chicago roots add a quiet historical resonance: it premiered here 77 years ago under its current title, having debuted the year before as Wilderness Stair. Seen now, it feels ageless, its athletic lyricism and emotional clarity undimmed.

If Diversion of Angels celebrates connection, Lamentation confronts isolation and loss with ferocious simplicity. Premiered in 1930, the solo remains one of the most iconic works in modern dance. The dancer, seated and encased in a tube of purple jersey, becomes a living sculpture of grief. The fabric stretches, strains, and reshapes under the pressure of the body, creating stark diagonals and suspended tensions. The figure is deliberately abstract—neither gendered nor humanized—grief made manifest. The anecdote Graham often shared, of a woman who found permission to grieve after witnessing the work, still echoes here. Nearly a century later, Lamentation retains its power to dignify sorrow without theatrical excess.

The first half concluded with En Masse, choreographed by Hope Boykin, an Alvin Ailey alum, and receiving its Chicago premiere during this centennial engagement. Built around a rediscovered shard of Leonard Bernstein’s music—sketches believed to have been composed for Graham and later shaped by composer Christopher Rountree—the work bridges generations. Boykin’s choreography channels Graham’s collective intensity while speaking in a contemporary vocabulary. The dancers move as a charged unit, bodies surging and fragmenting, suggesting both solidarity and strain. It is a smart, muscular addition to the repertory, affirming that Graham’s legacy is not static but generative.

The second half belonged entirely to Chronicle, one of Graham’s rare openly political works and a striking reminder of her moral clarity. Created in response to her refusal to participate in the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany, the work is performed by an all-women cast and pulses with defiance. Its three movements confront war, nationalism, and resistance not through literal narrative but through embodied protest—sharp footwork, grounded stances, and unyielding group formations. In today’s political climate, Chronicle feels unsettlingly current, its urgency undiminished.

What made this anniversary evening resonate was not nostalgia but conviction. The Martha Graham Dance Company did not ask the audience to admire history; it demanded that we feel it—in our bodies, in our grief, in our collective responsibility. At 100 years old, Graham’s work remains unapologetically modern, and this performance made clear that her revolutionary spirit is still very much in motion.

Celebrating Women Leaders in Dance

25-26 Season

The Auditorium
50 E Ida B Wells Dr, Chicago, IL 60605
312.341.2300

Let’s face it – in today’s world, “vaccinations” are a hot-button topic. More than ever, anything around health has become highly politicized, and for some, can elicit a deeply emotional reaction. Therefore, consensus is even harder to come by, and for some, even entering the debate feels impossible.

Despite all of that, leave it to Playwright Jonathan Spector to do the impossible and turn a play about vaccinations and consensus into a laugh-out-loud comedy. If you’re anything like this Opening Night audience, you might even find yourself gasping for air as you try to work through the laughter enough to absorb whatever witty one-liner comes next.

Spector’s Eureka Day takes place at a highly progressive private school where all decisions are made by consensus. However, when a mumps outbreak takes over the school, the Executive Board is going to find that artisanal scones are not always going to provide enough band aid for differing opinions.  Chaos ensues as parents clash in opinions over vaccinations and research, leaving the community unsure of how the school will ever recover.

Directed by Lili‑Anne Brown, Eureka Day is a witty, fast‑paced production presented by TimeLine Theatre in partnership with Broadway in Chicago. The work of Brown’s talented creative team immediately transports us into an elementary school library – particularly that of Scenic Designer Collete Pollard. The combination of picture books, colorful bean bags, and small chairs is sure to leave you feeling nostalgic as you think back to a time when you perhaps inhabited spaces like this.

Brown’s production features a strong ensemble with spot-on comedic timing. PJ Powers as Don, Eureka Day’s principal, elicited great laughter at this performance through his deep need to smooth over any debate. With every sigh or pause, he had the audience in the palm of his hand – wondering how he was going to try and navigate that particular rough patch. Jürgen Hooper expertly strikes a delicate balance with his approach to Eli, a character that walks a line as he tries to embody the stereotypical “white, woke man.”  Aurora Adachi-Winter has an authentic, genuine approach to her Meiko – the mom so many of us will recognize as the one who does not want to ruffle feathers, but also only has so much farther she can be pushed before she simply has to let her anger explode.

You might find that part of the cleverness of Spector’s story is its ability to invite an audience to empathize with both sides of the vaccination debate. Much as one might expect – not every parent meets eye to eye. As the school navigates the decision on whether or not to mandate the mumps vaccine for their students, we receive a window into the personal experiences of families on both sides.

In one particular scene, it is only Suzanne (Rebekah Ward) and Carina (Gabrielle Lott-Rogers) on stage. It is clear at this point that while Carina is pro-vaccination requirements, Suzanne is very much against. There is a great deal of silence, and the discomfort can be felt in the audience. While I do not wish to give away all of the details, I can say this – both actors treat their sides of the debate with a delicate grace. There is an openness and generosity from both Lott-Rogers and Ward that allows the audience to understand where they are each coming from. Regardless of which side of the debate on which you fall, you might just find yourself moved by the scene – and the ability for both characters to let down their walls and help each other understand their side of a highly personal topic.

A witty script with a lot of heart makes Eureka Day an absolute must-see. The topic alone is timely, and the ensemble brings it to life in a way that will stick with you for days.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Eureka Day runs through February 22, 2026 at Broadway Playhouse – 175 E. Chestnut Street. For tickets and information, see the Timeline Theatre website.