Displaying items by tag: The Conspirators

In an opening scene of “Duck Soup,” a new adaptation by The Conspirators of the Marx Brothers 1933 film, the wealthy heiress Gloria Teasdale (Hayden Hartrick), has been asked to increase her financial support of the deficit-ridden, mythical nation of Freedonia.

“Just loan us $20 billion dollars, so we can lower taxes,” they exhort the dowager widow. She agrees, but with one condition: they must appoint as president with unlimited power her chosen candidate, a whimsical reform-minded television star, Rufus T. Firefly (Mitchell Jackson).

Before this scene unfolds, however, playwright Sid Feldman artfully tips us off that we may see parallels to current events - wealth disparities, autocratic leadership, former TV stars in power. We witness a plaintive rendition of “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” by a hobo veteran (Tucker Privette). “They used to tell me I was building a dream…why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?”) And then appears a red and white MAGA cap, the G covered over with F - for Freedonia.

Back in Freedonia, the ministers agree to Teasdale’s terms. And in short order, Firefly appears.
In the film version of “Duck Soup,” Firefly is played by Groucho Marx, who was indeed a television star. Is this beginning to sound familiar?

Jackson channels Groucho's style, representing in the playwright's film adaptation his penchant for a fast-paced barrage of throwaway jokes and puns, many of them bawdy. Hartrick is perhaps even more remarkable in the role of the dowager Teasdale, matching that aristocratic mid-Atlantic accent Margaret Dumont brought to the film, and like Dumont decked out in formal gown, crowned with a glittering diadem.

This memorable scene between the two captures Dumont’s obliviousness to Firefly’s degrading overtures:
Rufus T. Firefly: Not that I care, but where is your husband?
Mrs. Teasdale: Why, he's dead.
Rufus T. Firefly: I bet he's just using that as an excuse.
Mrs. Teasdale: I was with him to the very end.
Rufus T. Firefly: No wonder he passed away.
Mrs. Teasdale: I held him in my arms and kissed him.
Rufus T. Firefly: Oh, I see, then it was murder. Will you marry me? Did he leave you any money? Answer the second question first.
Mrs. Teasdale: He left me his entire fortune.
Rufus T. Firefly: Is that so? Can't you see what I'm trying to tell you? I love you.

If Groucho is onstage, trust that Harpo (Sarah Franzel as the film character Pinky) and Chico (Deacon Leer as the film character Chicolini) are not far behind. We’re treated to classic sight gags and verbal puns drawn from the Marx Brothers’ treasury of schtick that is both laugh-inducing and readily recognized by fans. As in the film, a scene where the three appear in bedshirts and nightcaps, mimicking each other, is very funny. Many other scenes from the film, and the core structure of its plot is transplanted to live action. Kudos to director WM Bullion, for in comedy timing is everything, and under his baton the performers don’t miss a beat.

While so many of the performances are noteworthy, Sarah Franzel in the role of Pinky is truly memorable. Franzel gives the silent Marx Brother, the one who speaks only by honking a horn, a sharp intensity, almost bird-like looking here and there, and reacting just so to the surrounding action. Deacon Leer likewise is remarkably funny as the fake-Italian Chicolini, the name referencing Mussolini. (The film “Duck Soup,” notably, was banned in Italy during Mussolini’s years in power.)

In addition to transplanting events from a 1933 film, this “Duck Soup” makes them current, setting them in contemporary times amid a retro landscape. A famous routine from the film, for instance, which takes place as a bedroom phone conversation between Firefly and Teasdale, is updated to a texting exchange that becomes borderline sexting. Playwright Feldman, and the cast, pull it off, even funnier than the original. Likewise some of the just plain comical scenes - Chico and Harpo gabbing with a government functionary while driving him bananas with their antics - are timeless hilarity.

But an additional complexity comes with the unique acting approach used by The Conspirators, which eschews naturalism for a highly stylized approach known as The Style. Developed by Tim Robbins for The Actors Gang in Los Angeles, it’s a blend of 16th century Commedia dell' Arte, Kabuki, Looney Tunes and a high-energy punk-rock aesthetic. Actors, made up in thick white greasepaint with dark browlines and furrows drawn in, express but four emotions, all in the extreme: fear, anger, happiness, and sadness. Lines are delivered full throttle, and a percussionist on-stage adds drum rolls, cow bell, etc. in response. Anthony Soto performed on opening night, and was decidedly hilarious, especially taking on the duties for a garbled voice on the telephone receiver in several scenes.

In previous shows, The Style has dominated delivery. In “Duck Soup,” it’s softened a bit, as the comedy is more reliant on the funny lines and comic timing. The formula works well for this “Duck Soup,” though I missed the extremes The Style can deliver as we’ve seen in The Conspirators’ takes on Shakespeare in “Chicago Cop Macbeth” and Dario Fo’s “Accidental Death of a Black Motorist." Nevertheless, this is time well spent in the theater, and is a lot of fun.

The original “Duck Soup” was a satire of the rising fascism in Europe. This “Duck Soup” brings that message home. "Duck Soup" extended through December 7th at Stars & Garters, 3914 N. Clark in Chicago.

If you are familiar with the Marx Brother 1933 film “Duck Soup,” it is probably from clips of some of the timeless schtik delivered by the erudite punster Groucho, the womanizing “Italian” Chico, the mute Harpo and the straight man in the bunch, handsome brother Zeppo.

So when I first heard The Conspirators was going to adapt this seemingly light-hearted confection to its stage at Stars & Garters (formerly Otherworld Theater), it didn’t sound like a fit—not based on their more hard-hitting satires of the past. Were they retreating from a world grown too contentious? But having read up on it, then viewed the film recently—which as a whole remains laughworthy—I learned that “Duck Soup” delivers serious social commentary, a send-up of fascism and authoritarianism—so topical in its day, and today for that matter. And so it does indeed fit right into The Conspirators’ sweet spot.

The Clark Street troupe’s stock in trade is theater that perceptive audiences willing to scratch through the surface will find speaks bitingly of the times. The pill is made easier to swallow because it’s delivered in a unique farcical performance mode, known as The Style (more on that later). It has you laughing at its silliness even as the baleful messages hit home. That makes “Duck Soup” perfect grist for the script mill of Sid Feldman, founder of The Conspirators with director Wm. Bullion. Both are in the final phases of casting and adapting the film for an October 30 opening.

Past productions are a good indicator of where The Conspirators take aim. Shows are often hung loosely on the bones of works by 20th century modernist playwrights. Dario Fo’s “Accidental Death of an Anarchist” became the 2019 “Accidental Death of a Black Motorist.” Brecht’s “The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui” (1941) is hinted at by the similarly named “The Resistible Rise of Herr Helmut Drumpf” (2016). Its follow up, “The Deckchairs,” finds an iceberg denier elected captain of an already sinking ship (subtitle: “Make the Titanic Great Again.”) And then there was the latest production, adapting Macbeth from William Shakespeare to Chicago vernacular for “Chicago Cop Macbeth.” 

A circle of hell in “Commedia Divina: It’s Worse Than That”

Other works include “Commedia Divina: It’s Worse Than That,” a riff on "Dante’s Divine Comedy," or the 19th century “The Epidemic,” an obscure political farce by French writer Octave Mirbeau, adapted as a Covid19 parallel in “The Ineptidemic.” The Conspirators’ shows are hilarious satires, laughworthy regardless of one’s political orientation. But they also point up some heavy-duty dramaturgy at play. Bullion and Feldman are deeply knowledgeable theatrical professionals at work on serious artistic expression.

If there is a challenge for audiences watching The Conspirators productions, it lies in adapting ourselves to their performance method, known as The Style. They are the only company in Chicago using it (it originated with actor Tim Robbins at The Actors Gang in Los Angeles; Robbins was a schoolmate of Bullion’s), and it can take some moments to get used to it. For one thing, actors are heavily made up, in thick white greasepaint with dark exaggerated brows, lines and mouth drawn in.

"The Deckchairs, or Make the Titanic Great Again"

The lighting is starkly bright. Delivery is exaggerated, in quick bursts. A stage-side drummer punctuates the lines. And sets are minimalist. There is no dramatic naturalism to be found, quite a departure from Steppenwolf or Goodman or any of Chicago’s storefront stages.

Most arresting is the acting method. No individualized background story is developed in the minds of the actors to inform their expression of character. Instead, just four emotions are allowed, usually delivered full throttle: happiness, sadness, anger and fear. All these elements are the foundation of the version of The Style employed by The Conspirators, introduced to Chicago by a player from LA’s The Actors Gang, Chicago’s John Cusack, for the now defunct New Crime Theater.

The Evanston Connection
“Sid and I both come from Evanston, which is kind of important,” says Bullion. “The high school theater program was really advanced - right next to Northwestern.” Bullion went on to study theater at UCLA, in the same program as actor Tim Robbins who, along with Cynthia Ettinger, originated The Style 40 years ago. Robbins founded The Actors Gang, which describes The Style as rooted in “Théâtre du Soleil, Grotowski, Viewpoints, punk rock and popular culture.” It is still used and taught at Robbins’ Culver City stage near Los Angeles, currently presenting “Topsy Turvy” through September 27, written and directed by Robbins.

The history of The Style corresponds to Bullion’s and Feldman’s backgrounds. Feldman went to school in Evanston with Cusack. After his time with The Actors Gang, Cusack started Chicago’s New Crime Theater in the 1990s as a local platform for productions in The Style.

Feldman ended up connecting with Cusack at New Crime. “I was always a business guy,” Feldman says. When a producer at New Crime melted down during a production of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” its co-directors Cusack and Steve Pink then tapped Feldman to step in at the Chopin Theater, in 1991. (Jeremy Piven was in the cast.)

“It was just a monster of a show to produce,” Feldman says. “And Steve told me I had to come over, and I found the producer in a fetal position, rocking in a corner, it was just too big of a show, she just couldn’t handle it. So I got in through that end, and as I was watching their workshops in The Style, I realized what storefront theater was missing.” Feldman felt drawn to change it.

“Billy [Bullion] and I did a few plays together in the late 90s,” says Feldman. “That’s when we got together. Then we broke up, I started writing screenplays and I went to LA.” Feldman spent the winter months each year on the West Coast during this period. “I had some minor success and I did some rewrites for people who needed help.”

"Accidental Death of a Black Motorist"

Bullion meanwhile was in Chicago, “living the storefront life,” he says. “I had a company called Sliced Bread Productions, and I was doing Brecht, Richard III, two Charles Ludlam plays—farce—wacky, statement making shows.”

Bullion and Feldman had first met up in the subculture music scene in Chicago, but eventually their paths crossed again in theater as well.

Feldman eventually soured on the movie business when one of his scripts, all of them written on spec, finally was made into a movie that he didn’t get paid for.

“That was the turning point,” says Feldman. “The producer never gave me a contract, he stole my possession, he never gave me a dime, I tried suing him for years.” When Feldman returned to Chicago, he and Bullion decided to do some shows together.

“We did Sternheim's "The Underpants" and Friedrich Dürrenmatt's “The Physicists." Bullion had been directing and acting in Chicago. “I was in “Hizzoner Daley the First” for about four years [at Prop Theater] and by the time that was ending we were finding our way back together. During the run-up to the 2016 election Feldman asked Bullion, "Why don’t we put on some workshops and try to put on a show?”

When Bullion, who had also been directing for Babes with Blades in 2014, received a script by Aaron Adair for “L’imbecile” — a gender reversal of “Rigoletto,” he immediately thought of an approach. “There was only one way this play can possibly be done, and that was in The Style,” Bullion says. Soon after The Conspirators was formed.

“So he brought me in and I taught them The Style,” Feldman says.“The plays I had done with New Crime were all in The Style. A lot of our terminology comes from them. Tim Robbins has gone to a more softened version of The Style for major productions at The Actors Gang. At The Conspirators, we have kept it pure, we have actually made it more pure in some ways. It’s a living beast with us; we’re always changing it.”

Because there is no ready cadre of actors schooled in The Style to cast for its shows, The Conspirators have taken to running free workshops, training actors in the technique. From these workshops, it casts its shows.

As Feldman explains, “In college you study to learn who the character is, you study the background and the backstory - and you let that form how you deliver the monologues.
“This is what I teach them,” says Feldman. “I tell them to come in with a one to two minute monologue, with nothing, and in our workshops we only use four emotions: happiness, sadness, fear, and anger - all extremes. There’s no jealousy (“No bemusement” Bullion says.) You come in with a monologue, with nothing prepared - and I just randomly shout out what your next state is, in which you have to deliver the next line or two, in that state. And it always works, no matter what the character is, no matter what the words are. It always works if you commit to it.” This departure from all the character building methods most actors have been trained to can be mind blowing for performers.

“We all say it’s not real, it’s not realistic,” says Bullion, who will direct “Duck Soup.” ”But what makes the style work is the absolute sincerity, and the absolute commitment to real emotion. And that is what gives a harmonic. I don’t want someone ‘acting’ mad. I want the real emotion.”

Feldman notes, “If you pretend to be angry, you can see it immediately. And that exercise is the most important one that gets them to be real actors. This confidence to make choices that other people might not make.”

Outlandish as this approach might sound, it is firmly rooted in deeply established performance traditions, beginning with 16th century commedia dell arte, which used masked archetypal characters and a mix of script and improvisation. This has cropped up on Chicago stages in a variety productions, including Court Theatre’s 2016 “One Man, Two Guvnors” 
In The Conspirator’s adaptation for The Style, heavy make-up along with an abrupt, exaggerated delivery recalls the stylized performance of Japan’s Kabuki. But there is more to it than that.

Promoting the training workshops to actors, The Conspirators describe The Style’s combination of classic commedia dell’arte, kabuki, and sprinkles of Ariane Mnouchkine via actor Tim Robbins’ The Actors’ Gang, “a soupçon of clown” along with the aesthetic of actor John Cusack's New Crime Productions, with influences of “Bugs Bunny and punk rock.”

“One of the things Billy and I talked about before we did “Chicago Cop Macbeth” was not only how people treat Shakespeare too preciously, but also too linearly. As though every single monologue has one point to it. What we see is that people grow during these monologues. People are trying to outwit the other characters to get what they want. Sometimes it’s sarcasm. Our style punches that up. When you compare it to the recent Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand, that was a snoozer. By putting it in the style we’re giving people not just entertainment to watch, but I think it breaks the story down better and makes it more understandable.”

Bullion agrees. “It’s accessible. Because you are laughing along with this meta reality we are creating, because you are laughing along with the cast, you are with them.” To attract contemporary audiences, Feldman believes more radical approaches to theater are called for.

“I would argue, and this is going to be controversial, people are not interested in realism in the theater. When you give them reality in the theater they go to sleep. Young playwrights will give me something, and I’ll say, ‘This is boring.’ And they’ll say, ‘Yeh, but it’s real.’ Nobody wants to watch me get ready to go to bed. That’s real too. Give me something outrageous.”

How this will play out in ”Duck Soup” will be known soon enough. We’ll meet Groucho’s character Rufus T. Firefly, just appointed dictator of Freedonia, who in the film lets us know,. “If you think this country's bad off now, just wait till I get through with it!” What can be said is we can expect the unexpected from The Conspirators’ version opening October 30 at Stars & Garters (formerly Otherworld Theater).

It was a dark and stormy night as I motored to The Conspirators “Chicago Cop Macbeth,” with a fog of dust giving the streets an eerie feel. As the lights came up at the Otherworld Theater, the storm continued, the three witches of MacBeth gathered tightly around a fiery oil drum as thunder and lightning filled the room along with their chanting of Shakespeare’s famous opening lines, Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.

But this was different than the usual scene of the Bard’s classic iambic pentameter, for these witches were dressed as Chicago police in yje blue shirts of the department’s lower ranks, the British Midland accents replaced by one of the city’s most beloved native dialects, Bridgeport English.

The show’s style coach Sid Feldman, adapter and director William Bullion and ‘Script Doctor” Aili Huber have tailored Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” to place it close to home. The tale of the Scottish lord who took the royal throne through murder and mayhem is now set as a struggle among district police commanders to capture the seat of the superintendent. Action moves from the Scottish highlands and heath, to the Police District 5, Rogers Park District, and Daniel Burnham Forest Preserves.

Lt. Cmdr. Lady Macbeth (Clara Byczkowski) urges Cmdr. Macbeth (Travis Barnhart) into action

Eschewing emotional naturalism in their performances, The Conspirators are known for their unique acting format, “The Style,” a type of Commedia dell’ Arte seasoned with bits of Kabuki, Bugs Bunny, grotesque make-up and stylized movement. Lines are delivered in bite-sized chunks. These are punctuated by a percussionist, in this performance Tom Jacek, who brought forth a more subtle commentary perfectly adapted to the dramatic mystery and power of “Chicago Cop Macbeth.”

Hearing Shakespeare this way makes it come alive, and be heard differently—perhaps like hearing the lines recited as rap. Though the emotional core of Shakespeare’s story recedes compared to more conventional approaches, the show is arresting in another way, for the language. To hear those lines, sometimes spoken into shoulder-mounted walkie-talkies, is jolting. The transformation by local touches brought lots of laughter:

Macbeth’s discomfort holding a crown he has murdered to win—Now does he feel his title hang loose about him, like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief—becomes “hangs loosely around him, like a Bear’s jersey.”

Quite striking is the line We will speak further, as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth plot to kill King Duncan. Spoken in Chicago Bridgeport, it sounds like something whispered between two lawyers at the back of a Cook County courtroom—as it certainly still is.

Supt. Macbeth (Travis Barnhart) banishes the Ghost of Cmdr. Banquo (Collan Simmons, in center)   

Most surprising was the revelation of The Conspirators as capable, competent Shakespearean performers.For most Conspirators shows, written as original comedic pieces, the actors are not individualized, performing as many moving components in a series of hilarious scenes. Here, as the tightly adapted Shakespeare demands, we have Chicago Police versions of the Bard’s famous characters: Cmdr. Macbeth (Travis Barnhardt), Lt. Cmdr. Lady Macbeth (Clara Byczkowski), Supt. Duncan (Zach Foley), Lt. Cmdr. Malcolm (Demetri Magas), Cmdr. Banquo (Collan Simmons), Cmdr. MacDuff (Corin Wiggins) and many others.

Cmdr. MacDuff (Corin Wiggins) and a long line of Cmdr. Banquo’s descendants.

Of the standout performances, Travis Barnhardt must be commended as Cmdr. Macbeth, playing the role with occasionally lengthy stretches of Elizabethan English deftly converted to Chicago-ese. In some respects, Barnhardt’s Macbeth is the straight man to the sometimes comedic follies of the officers around him. Emily Ruth, Jacob Reno, and Eva Andrews as the Witches are superb: “Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble.” Ruth also appears continuously as a desk sergeant and owns the stage in every one of their scenes. And Corin Wiggins as Cmdr. MacDuff is truly dynamic.

On a personal note, “Macbeth” carries a reputation for bad luck, and actors avoid naming it, calling it the Scottish play. The morning after seeing “Chicago Cop Macbeth,” I discovered a tree had fallen on my car parked near Damen and Rice. It will be in the shop three weeks. 

The Conspirators “Chicago Cop Macbeth” runs through June 8, 2025 at Otherworld Theatre, 3914 N. Clark in Chicago.

*This review is also featured on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/! 

The early closing of the Conspirators’ 2023 production of “Commedia Divina,” proved useful, giving this …erm … highly original company an opportunity to retool “Commedia Divina” into a production worthy of Election Year 2024.

I can’t claim I wasn’t warned. I mean, the very title is “Commedia Divina: It’s Worse Than That, An Immorality Play.” You can’t read that title and walk in expecting Carol Burnett, right? I was further cautioned by my seatmate (a Conspirators veteran) that the Conspirators’ style is “an acquired taste.”

In fact, The Conspirators work exclusively in “The Style” – a highly theatrical performance mode developed by movie stars Tim Robbins and John Cusack from the techniques of Ariane Mnouchkine, Commedia dell'Arte, Kabuki, Bugs Bunny cartoons and punk rock.

In COMMEDIA DIVINA, “The Style” features easy-to-change (it happens alot) costumes from Kit Medic (they/them), with Kate Akerboom’s (she/her) in-your-face over-the-top makeup. Together, one hardly needs Sid Feldman’s he/him words or William Bullion’s (he/him) direction … but trust me, you’d miss them if they were deleted.

As they almost were when the video for the Fourth Circle refused to play … but the Conspirators are a professional troupe, and neither a misbehaving media clip nor a broken butterfly net caused so much as a hiccup.

Maybe I should go back and tell you the story huh?

Start with Inferno, the first (stanza) in Dante’s epic poem, The Divine Comedy, in which the poet Virgil escorts Dante through the Nine Circles of Hell. Dante intended the Inferno to illuminate the contrast between reality and fantasy, between existence and illusion, and show the suffering of the damned at each circle. The Conspirators do a masterful job of not only scrambling these concepts, but of showing us how well that snarl mirrors contemporary life.

Dante’s guide through these Circles is Virgil; in “Commedia Divina” Fr. Virgil is immaculately (sic) played by Corin Wiggins (they/she/he), who guides, not Dante, but Malady Traitor Greene, a suburban business heiress from northern Georgia, played with lunatic frenzy by Christine Watt (she/her). Any similarities to a certain Congresswoman from  Georgia are purely coincidental - not!

The play opens with Malady Traitor Greene hysterically soliciting Fr Virgil for insight into the dreams/visions she’s been having. And as we descend with them through these Circles we begin to not only sympathize with Greene’s derangement, we too become infected with maniacal insanity, expressing itself as riotous and uncontainable laughter.

The Conspirators do their job well: by the time we exited the theater the entire sold-out audience was rampantly unhinged. In fact, if you were anywhere near 3914 N Clark Friday night you may have glimpsed a group of seething lunatics absconding into the street.

We descended with Malady and Fr. Virgil into the first circle of hell, past an Amazon packaging assembly line where all the employees are writhing with the pain of overfilled bladders, waiting eternally for a break that never comes. The next circle took us to a meeting of Karens, who can’t seem to agree on how to do good, or anything. The chair, a Karen herself, suffers damnation in managing a meeting filled with complaining, obstructionist Karens. Another circle finds the seductress Covida (Kelly Opalkoshe/her) inveigled and infected one boyfriend after another. Dramatic moments were often punctuated by a drumroll, but onstage percussionist Dakota Norman did more than simply beat the drum; he and his sticks were most definitely active members of the cast.

The Circles continued down to the uproarious "Ron Paul's Drag Race", with Travis Barnhart’s (he/him) sidesplitting appearance as Senator Mitch McConnell hitting it off with Liza Minelli. Liza serenaded us with a retooled version of “Maybe Next Time”. Throughout the production various demons, imps, Karens and ghouls were brilliantly enacted by Eva Andrews she/her; Emily Fernandez (she/her); Tess Vincentshe/her; Mitch Maguirehe/him, Jimmy Dwyer (he/him); Kelly Opalko (she/her); Lex Mann Turner (they/he) and Harper McCoy (she/they).

 Mike McShane’s (he/him) lighting and Sebby Woldt’s (they/them) sound design were integral to the production. Choreographer Meghan Lyndham (she/her) had her work cut out for her! but rose to the challenge, coordinating well with Violence Designer Libby Beyreis (she/her). Christen Krasch (she/they) was kept busy as Assistant to Stage Manager Matt Bonaccorso (he/him) as well as with A/V; I’m sure the media glitch in Circle 4 was an opening-night foible, and they’ll have it under control for the next performance.

“Commedia Divina” was written (and retooled) by Sid Feldman and directed by William Bullion, with assistant Elena Avila. Feldman and Bullion co-founded The Conspirators in 2016.

Beneath the unrelenting comedy “Comedia Divina” was amazingly erudite. Laughter is often an effective approach to commentary on the dire issues facing all of us. It’s clearly no accident that the production is timed to coincide with the election: the last words of the night were from Fr. Virgil as he was churlishly yanked offstage: “Please Vote!”

Highly recommended, “Commedia Divina” runs at Otherworld Theatre through November 10, with special late night performances October 31 and November 1, 2, 8 and 9, as well as an Industry Night Election Special performance on Monday, November 4.

You have be on your toes to catch The Conspirators productions, but it’s worth the effort. The troupe’s latest evanescent performance, just three days last week, was a take on holiday shows, actually a remount of the 2019 “Ayn Rand's ‘It's a Wonderful Life’ as Performed by the Conspirators,” but this time “Under the Direction of Diane Feinstein.”

As the title suggests, it’s a funny view of the world around us. Written by resident comic genius Sid Feldman and directed by Wm. Bullion, the three-day run at Otherworld Theatre otherworldtheatre.org concluded . This show, which “was-going-to-be-annual-until-the-pandemic holiday tradition” is a parody (Frank Capra’s 1946 “It’s a Wonderful Life” as it might have been adapted today by libertarian-slanted Ayn Rand) within another parody—a holiday TV special.

But Feldman, as always, ups the ante, and in this case the traditional TV holiday special is reset with the late Senator Feinstein replaced by another director. In last week’s actual staging, Covid struck several cast members during rehearsals. But actual director Bullion and a few other script-toting fill-ins delivered a memorable opening night. Though the overarching “TV special” theme was obscured, individual scenes were funny indeed.

For example, in Ayn Rand’s filter of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” when George Bailey (James Stewart in the film) decides to jump off a bridge, the angel Clarence offers, instead of discouragement, an assist. As Clarence takes George on a tour of what life for his family and friends would have been like if he’d never been born he visits his wife Mary, at work. But unlike the film,she’s not a penniless 1940s librarian. Instead, Feldman puts her in our current time, as a low-paid, harried waitress hawking sex-on-the-beach shots at TGI Fridays. "Sex on the beach, sex on the beach," she intones drably to the diners. Still locked in the 1940s, a clueless George Bailey tells her, “No no, Mary. You don’t have to sell your body to survive!” It’s very funny on stage, the actor dead-onJames Stewart impersonation.

You’ll likely be able to see the seasonal standard in December 2024, but The Conspirators’ next appearance will be May 15 - June 8, 2024 for “Viva la Mort.”

The Conspirators latest show is an absolute laugh fest, and may just be their funniest so far. Subversive in its social commentary, which hits you in your funny bone, The Conspirators have chosen Dante’s Divine Comedy for their latest show, “Divina Commedia: It’s Worse Than That.” They lead us through those circles of hell in which we find ourselves today, perhaps without realizing it.

We are introduced to a sleepless clergyman who has come to his sanctuary to work on tomorrow’s sermon. An upper middle class matron—described as a suburban Atlanta business heiress—wanders into the church in these wee hours seeking comfort over a dream plaguing her, and with this conceit, the humor ramps up.

First circle we meet is an unrelenting packaging line in an Amazon warehouse, with the cast moving those familiar boxes at a rapid pace. Our protagonist for the set needs to pee, but the line can’t stop. Soon perhaps everyone in the line is in the same predicament. No stopping to pee! The contortions and jumpiness of the denizens of this circle of hell suffer on endlessly with no relief. And we realize in our laughter they are stuck there, forever!

Another circle finds us at a community meeting chaired by a Karen, that meme of entitlement and complaint that is familiar to us all. After a modest proposal to spend a small sum on a group project, the discussion opens, and Karen the chair discovers all in attendance have an opinion, negative of course, and each happens to also be named Karen. The chair Karen is in her circle of hell, as each attendee carps and whines with no possibility to resolve these Karens' issues, they just want to complain, each in their own take on unresolvable “problems” with the proposal.

There are seven more osuch circles (one is "Ron Paul's Drag Race" with a remarkably funny appearance by Senator Mitch McConnell and Cher), all devised by the sharp pen of Sid Feldman and directed by Wm. Bullion, running at what seems to be a most congenial place for the Conspirators, the Otherworld Theatre at 3914 N. Clark St. in Chicago. Between each circle the heiress reflects acidly on the suffering with the clergyman, who serves the role of Father Virgil to guide her, a witty take on Dante’s original.

The production is in The Conspirator’s distinguished take on traditional Italian Commedia dell'Arte, which they dub “The Style,” with thick make-up drawn from Kabuki, “and with a dash of Bugs Bunny.” The exaggerated delivery, punctuated by drum rolls from an onstage percussionist, leads the audience to savor the lines—giving them added impact.

This time around the make-up has an added embellishment of very expressive lines, giving each character a distinctive mask that lends itself well to the roles. The Conspirators productions are deceivingly erudite, seriously referencing weighty underlying material, and bringing them to bear on contemporary life.

But the most important thing is how funny it is. You don’t need to know anything at all about the intellectual underpinnings of their shows, because the laughs are involuntary and completely overwhelming. Audiences will applaud dutifully at many shows. But you can’t fake laughter, the most honest of responses. “Divina Commedia: It’s Worse Than That” is an almost exhaustingly funny show. The Conspirators’ runs are typically very short. Absolutely don’t miss this one, through November 19 at Otherworld Theatre.

The title alone is the tip-off that “The 125th Anniversary Jubilee” from The Conspirators is out of the ordinary—an irreverent show that is both laugh-inducing and thought provoking.

“Jubilee” consists of a sampling of skits from The Conspirators past performances, as well as “imagined” skits from an impossibly distant past before the troupe was founded, including a 19th century riff on Sherlock Holmes revolving around the old saw, “Do you have Prince Albert in a Can.” Another piece, a supposed 1945 skit, ‘Harry Truman's Fitful Night’ finds Truman struggling to express to Americans the enormity of the nuclear holocaust at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We witness Truman irked that the Bhagavad Gita line, “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds” was already taken, used after a test detonation by physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer. So laughs are both highbrow and lowbrow.

These and other samplings, wrapped around a lengthier one-act French comedy of manners from 1898, make the evening a good introduction to the unique approach The Conspirators use. Known as “The Style,” it is based on a mix of classic Italian Commedia del Arte, Kabuki (actors are heavily made-up), and with a dash of Bugs Bunny. The exaggerated delivery, punctuated by drum rolls from an onstage percussionist, leads the audience to savor the lines—giving them added impact.

The core of the show, the one-act play by a French commentator, author and playwright Octave Mirbeau, is a send-up the social foibles of his time, a Moliere-esque comedy of manners, set at a town council debating what to do about an outbreak of typhoid fever at a local military base. The parallels to our ongoing battle with the Covid pandemic are unmistakable as we witness the council heed the advice of a medical professional who is a “plague denier” and then vote to do nothing, later turning 180 degrees when the disease inevitably strikes a favored member of one of their own bourgeoise.

For first-timers at a Conspirators show, the musical numbers that open the show may seem to come from left field, but very quickly the magnetic qualities of the unique format will draw you in. Written by Sid Feldman and directed by Wm. Bullion, the show draws also taps Monty Python and SNL material.  “The Conspirators’ 125th Anniversary Jubilee Featuring the Ineptidemic” left me laughing, and looking forward to the next 125 years.

The show runs through November 19 at Otherworld Theatre, 3914 N. Clark St., Chicago. Visit https://www.conspirewithus.org

Sometimes tragedy is so extreme, our only response is to be driven to distraction – like that character in a graphic novel pushed off the edge, laughing in the abyss. Or think of the performance of Joaquin Phoenix in The Joker.

A work springing from this sentiment is playing live on stage, at the Athenaeum Theatre, in a new production format called “The Style,” a unique performance vernacular developed by The Conspirators. Every element – writing, directing, ensemble performance, music, set - brings something you will likely not have seen before.

The play is Accidental Death of a Black Motorist- the title alone both suggestive and incendiary. What happens on stage is even more so, with a truly barn-burning performance by Anthony Hinderman – a recent arrival to the Chicago scene and now an ensemble member in The Conspirators. (I am already grieving the likelihood this guy will soon be scooped up by New York or Hollywood.)

The roots of this work are heady, drawn from Italian Nobel laureate Dario Fo’s absurdist Death of an Anarchist. Writer Sid Feldman, who has adapted it into a precise Chicago argot, justifiably claims script credits, having updated the original to a relentlessly witty, laugh-rich brew that will leave you breathless, and powerfully impacted. 

In a nutshell, the story tells of a Chicago police crew who have arrested a man for “driving while black,” (we never see him). "The subject was driving too nice of a car for that neighborhood," explains the arresting officer in his broad Chicago accent. 

The victim somehow ends up jumping to his death from a fourth floor police station window during questioning. Feldman has transmogrified these hapless cops into a witless crew that is unable to develop its own cover story to avoid liability for the innocent man’s death. 

Then comes the subversive Actor (Anthony Hinderman) who re-enters the scene (he had earlier been arrested for a minor infraction but skipped out) and now convinces the police he has been sent by the court to help them clear their names. Crafty as a grifter, The Actor transforms into several characters, but the cops don’t catch on. As Actor reads through the police report he ostensibly helps them generate alibis for their inconsistencies, but once they commit to one of his proposed covers, he lets them see the new story won’t fly under questioning either. 

Detective Berkstra (Nathaniel Fishburn), speaking in heavilyinflected South'side, complains,  "You said you were here to help us, but all you've done is cast doubt on everything we say!" 

Hindeman brings a extraordinary plasticity to his facial expressions. Coated in pancake and heavily made up, he grimaces and mugs for all he is worth. 

The technique used in the show is “The Style,” which The Conspirators describe as a distilled amalgam of the 16th century Italian Commedia del Arte style, with “influences like Kabuki, Kathakali, Bugs Bunny, and a high-energy punk-rock aesthetic” that is like “a coke-fueled clown nightmare.”

Abandoning any semblance of naturalism, the actors are done up in grotesque makeup, with stylized movements punctuated by very expressive percussion as commentary. (Sarah Scanlon played the night I saw the show.) Footlights illuminate the stage in a stark glare, perhaps off-putting at first, but mesmerizing soon enough.

You may fear for Hinderman lest he be immolated in the blaze he sets on stage, but so too the rest of the troupe, who have clearly drunk whatever cool-aid The Conspirators are mixing. In fact, the cast really becomes one actor. Every performer amazes – Kate Booth as Detective Bertowski, Nathaniel Fishburn as Detective Berkstra, Ali Janes as TV newscaster Madison Boan, Nicole Frydman as Chief of Police, and the list goes on.

I sought out this play after a friend mentioned their previous production, The Deckchairs, or, Make the Titanic Great Again. (That one tells what happens on board after an iceberg denier is elected captain of the unsinkable ship.)

Wm. Bullion directed this unique show, which uses its special forms and styles to cast a fresh light on the social injustice it addresses. Far from dreary, it is truly liberating. Accidental Death of a Black Motorist runs Thursday, Friday and Saturdays through November 23 at the Athenaeum Theatre, 2936 Southport on Chicago.