Displaying items by tag: Court Theatre

Some theatre is so unique that it defies genre, or even creates its own. 'For Colored Girls/Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf' by Notzake Shange is considered a choreopoem, a first and only of its kind to appear on Broadway. This pivotal work debuted on Broadway in 1975 and remains as potent today as it was then. Court Theatre's revival, going on now, is directed by original cast member Seret Scott. 

You may be asking yourself what a choreopoem is. As defined by Shange's work, it's a beautiful combination of spoken word poetry, song and dance. While narrative structure is fluid, there is a central storyline flushed out over the 90 minute run. 'For Colored Girls' tells eight black women's stories of urban life in sometimes joyful, sometimes tragic, but mostly empowering vignettes. The characters are identified only by the color of their dress, but are made distinct by their individual voices and stories. 

This piece isn't produced very often as it requires a solid and specific casting. Seret Scott has assembled a stellar cast for her production. Melody Angel as Lyric creates the rhythmic backbone as she shreds an electric guitar. Though all the women in this ensemble are hair-raisingly spectacular, Anji White's performance is truly transcendent. There's a moment near the middle of the show when White takes center stage as Lady in Red. From there on, you cannot take your eyes off her. The final monologue leaves an audience entirely surrendered to both her sensuality and gut-wrenching story. 

'For Colored Girls' is a timeless exploration of black female themes in American life, but perhaps there is no better time than right now to celebrate being other. If you've always wanted to see this piece performed to the best possible standards, don't skip this powerful production.

 
Through April 14 at Court Theatre. 5535 S Ellis. 773-753-4472

Walking in as curtain time neared for Photograph 51, the towering set took my breath away: a backdrop nearly three-stories tall, built of a latticework of delicately framed, vertical windowpanes with spiral staircases swirling down at each end, to meet a floor of foot-square hexagonal tiles.

Heavy quarter-sawn oak laboratory tables and cabinets filled the setting, a research lab that would play a pivotal role in the discovery of the structure of DNA molecules. As the play commenced, illumination flowed down the pillars of the window panels and along the irregular channels at the edges of the tile, creating an electrifying vision - mimicking the hexagon shape of those DNA molecules.

Strains of an evocative original score swelled as the action began in the laboratories of King’s College in London - the site of crucial research that led to the now familiar double helix structure of DNA molecules described by University of Cambridge researchers (and eventual Nobel laureates) James Watson and Francis Crick.

This play tells of unsung research heroine in that saga, Rosalind Franklin (played excellently by Chaon Cross), a chemist whose X-ray crystallography photographs (Photograph 51 was the big one) that provided a visual key unlocking the riddle of how DNA molecules were structured.

Watson (Alex Goodrich) and Crick (Nicholas Harazin) went on to Nobel glory, as did Franklin’s research partner Maurice Wilkins (played by Nathan Hosner), while Franklin’s pivotal role was largely forgotten. That is, until Watson’s outrageously misogynist portrayal of her in Double Helix, his autobiography. As the rare creature of her day, a woman research scientist, Franklin suffered the critiques of male peers that are familiar - she wasn't feminine enough, was hard to get along with, made the least of herself in dress and style. Needless to say,  these were taken more seriously in the 1950s. 

"Why collaborate with someone who's hard to get along with," as one of Franklin's peers puts it. Nonetheless, in this retelling of the story, Franklin asserted herself, insisting she be accorded equal respect, and resisting attempts to subordinate her research to her male lab partner, Maurice Wilkins.

"Dr. Wilkins, I will not be anyone's assistant," Franklin tells him, and she insists he refer to her as Dr. Franklin. 

Watson’s characterization of Franklin in Double Helix was widely criticized. Harvard, where Watson was teaching, refused to publish it.
Watson’s reputation and career has also been devastated by his advancement of theories that there is a link between race and intelligence.

Having lost his income, he became the only Nobel prize winner who to sell his award. U of C, which sustains the Court Theatre, may be trying to get on the right side of the issue by presenting Franklin’s story on stage – though it might want to revisit the distinguished alumni award it made to Watson in 2007. 

Would that the play measured up to such worthy goals, and the promise of its sets by Arnel Sancianco (scenic design), Keith Parham (lighting) Jeffrey Levin (sound). Instead, we have a show with great acting and production values – it reminds me of a Netflix pilot film – but with a story line, yet only a wandering plotline.

Plays need a drama to succeed, and instead we are given a timeline. All very interesting, to be sure, but not gripping.
As a result, instead of Franklin being the star of her own story, she is a supporting character. The closest thing we have to a protagonist is her partner Wilkens, who secretly carried a torch for her. That these scientists are such a nerdy bunch must have made it all the more difficult for playwright Anna Ziegler to develop the work. It was a success in London starring Nicole Kidman. The University of Chicago lent its academic bona fides and knowledge base to Court Theater’s production, and that greatly enriches the show.

There are moments, to be sure, including a wonderful soliloquy on the loneliness of a scientist's pursuit of knowledge. Likewise, the tortured moments of Wilkins, who struggled to recognize and express his feelings for Franklin.

We have a wonderful theatrical spectacle, and the direction by Vanessa Stalling made the most of Photograph 51, “mining Ziegler’s text for all its thematic complexities,” as artistic director Charles Newell puts it. Watson & Crick’s discovery in 1953 of the double helix changed history, and our view of ourselves as humans. The knowledge of DNA’s role – and the potential for engineering new directions using it – is the basis for a world of change in arts and sciences.

Photograph 51 is an illuminating story, and we are fortunate it is being told so beautifully - and perhaps that is enough to recommend it. The show runs through February 17 at Court Theatre.

*Now playing through February 23, 2019

It’s a rare treat to get to experience anything as unique as Manual Cinema’s production of ‘Frankenstein’ at Court Theatre. With several productions of ‘Frankenstein’ going on this year, one might wonder how they’re each distinguishing themselves. Manual Cinema’s original adaptation is just that, a manual cinema. Told with intricate shadow puppets on classroom overhead projectors, ‘Frankenstein’ is like spending the evening in a toy box.

In a collaboration with Court Theatre as part of their season, Manual Cinema returns to University of Chicago where they started. The company was formed in 2012 by University of Chicago faculty members and has since evolved into an internationally acclaimed performance art troupe. Manual Cinema still resides in Chicago.

This theatrical production of ‘Frankenstein’ is unlike anything you have ever seen. Drew Dir’s concept closely follows Mary Shelley’s novel and even includes an intermittent story arc about how Mary Shelley came to write ‘Frankenstein’. Unlike a traditional play, this production contains no spoken dialogue. Instead, the cast furiously dashes around the set creating a visual splendor on several overhead projectors. Though, there are scenes of more traditional acting or, pantomime, layered into the play as well. The show is projected onto a main screen but it’s nearly impossible not to sneak away glances to the corners where the visuals are being created. A live orchestra beautifully scores the play with original music composed by Kyle Vegter and Ben Kauffman.

This production is riveting. Not only are the projections and music sumptuous but the shadowy atmosphere created by Manual Cinema is haunting. The staging is set up in a way that encourages the audience to watch how the projections are created. The story is somewhat simplified but in that simplicity is an almost pop-up book version of Shelley’s classic horror story. The cinematic score propels the action and provides an emotional component to the piece. The two-hour run time seems to breeze by and you’re left not wanting the excitement to end.

‘Frankenstein’ is Manual Cinema’s sixth full length show but hopefully that means there will be plenty more. If you’re wondering which ‘Frankenstein’ to see this fall, this is the one. There is surely nothing else like it.

Through December 1st at Court Theatre. 5535 S Ellis Avenue. 773-753-4472

Common sense dictates doing the right thing. On the surface, that seems obvious, but in August Wilson’s final play, Radio Golf, which premiered in 2005 and is receiving a timely and propulsive revival at Court Theatre, this is not at all clear. Though the characters are archetypal, and the situations contrived, it is precisely these extremes that cast the arguments of the play into sharp relief. What makes sense? No matter which side you choose in this examination of urban redevelopment, there is no outcome that benefits the residents of the Hill District or the protagonists of Wilson’s play, because no matter how far they have come, no matter what their ideals, it is 1997 and they are black and living in a racist America. Unfortunately, Wilson’s play has aged well—though broadly drawn, the events of the play are no less a reflection of American realities than they were two decades ago.

According to the program, director Ron OJ Parson has directed 25 productions of August Wilson’s plays. This is evident in his assured, lyrical work on this production. The characters are detailed, and the poetry of Wilson’s language emerges from the physical language of the blocking, so that the cracks in the sometimes conventional structure do not emerge until long after the final blackout. Though he allows Wilson’s humor to suffuse the evening, Parson has created a powerful and engrossing dialectic that offers much food for thought and few answers. Parson’s interpretation creates a sense of community and warm comradery among the characters, which accentuates the fact that the real threat lies beyond the action onstage. Given the surging poetry of Wilson’s script, it seems that this is the production that Wilson was writing to receive. Parson’s vision is complemented by a design team that is equally meticulous, setting the scene with unobtrusive but finely tuned details. Scenic designer Jack Magaw has created a grimy but well-appointed ground floor office for the Bedford Hills Development, Inc., jammed between neighboring buildings and accessed by a concrete stairwell. There are hints of the grandeur of the past in the tin ceiling and bay window, but the green-painted walls are stained, and the linoleum floor is more practical than elegant. Claire Chrzan lights most of the interior scenes in harsh, bright light, occasionally softened by practicals. She subtly shifts between moods and time, extending the magical realism to the windows of neighboring residences. Costume designer Rachel Anne Healy creates a period-perfect uniform for each character that allows each to evolve according to their fortunes, without veering into caricature. Sound designer Christopher M. LaPorte uses a funk-injected jazz score to set the tone, as well as contributing cool radio tracks and jarring sounds that invade the relative sanctuary of the office from the outside.

The cast of Radio Golf is uniformly excellent. As Harmond Wilks, the real estate developer hoping to bring back Pittsburgh’s Hill District while launching his bid to be mayor of both black and white citizens of the city, Allen Gilmore lends an Obama-esque, unruffled cool to his idealistic character, which gives way to almost petulant panic when he finds himself fighting for a future that seemed more secure than it turns out to be. As his golf-playing partner and newly-minted bank vice president Roosevelt Hicks, James Vincent Meredith is smoothly overbearing and casually abusive, while maintaining a boyish charm and ambition—he goes far enough in his self-serving tirades to draw derision but retains enough humanity to elicit sympathy. As Wilks’ wife, Mame Wilks, Ann Joseph is warm, no-nonsense and imperious; her attempt to open her husband’s eyes to the consequences of his choices for them both is heart-wrenching and powerful. Alfred H. Wilson plays Elder Joseph Barlow with a kinetic physicality that mirrors his scattershot philosophizing, rarely pausing as he reveals a strong gravitational center to his wandering thoughts. James T. Alfred brings comic timing and a self-aware physicality to the almost excessively forthright ex-con Sterling Johnson, who, while he has stopped punching everyone in the mouth to make himself feel good, still seems perfectly capable of doing so if he sees a need. As Wilks finds himself entangled in bonds that he thought had dissolved long ago, and Hicks finds himself presented with ways to turn his race into an asset, the battle lines are drawn, and it becomes clear that all the characters are casualties of a war that is being waged for profit by others, but there are promotions to be had if they join the winning side. As an ensemble, all the actors find the humor and good will in their characters, without allowing them to become bathetic or cartoonish. Though sometimes broadly drawn, each character finds his or her dignity in the sensitive and emotionally grounded portrayals onstage at Court.

Radio Golf alternates between laugh-out-loud (though at times decidedly un-PC) humor and incisive social commentary, spot-on examinations of familial and geographic loyalties and nearly stereotypical portraits of the members of a community and the different paths they take, and director Ron OJ Parsons and his expert cast, supported by a perfectly tuned design team, weave the tonal shifts into powerful, perfectly modulated quintet. On the surface, August Wilson’s final work may seem less haunting and lyrical than the previous plays of the ten-play Century Cycle that it completed, but this production belies that impression. Though some elements may seem facile, when the curtain comes down, one realizes that Wilson left behind a complex and uncompromising challenge for his audience. Wilson was an American who wrote about his country with awe, humor, rigor and compassion. In Radio Golf, he took on the issue of gentrification and redevelopment, and what happens when revitalization becomes disenfranchisement. In Court Theatre’s production, the play is an entertaining, empathetic and unyielding plea for doing the right thing, especially for those who wield the power to do so.

Radio Golf runs through September 30 at Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis Avenue, Chicago. Tickets, priced $50 - $74, are available at the Court Theatre Box Office, but calling (773)753-4472, or online at www.CourtTheatre.org.

By now we all know who’s coming to dinner. Based on the 1967 film starring Sidney Poitier and Katharine Hepburn, Court Theatre presents a new stage adaptation of ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.’ Written in 2013 by Todd Kreidler, this fresh look points at the progress America has made regarding interracial marriage, as well as the progress that still lies ahead.

Marti Lyons directs this quickly-paced comedy-drama. The scenes are trimmed with a sweeping score that recalls the golden era of 60s television. The mid-century mod set by Scott Davis drops us square into 1960s suburban San Francisco. A solid white house on a hill, obvious symbolism. Kriedler’s script begins on an impossibly rosy note, a sure sign that trouble is afoot for these fine looking white folks.

Christina (Mary Beth Fisher) and Matt Drayton’s (Tim Hopper) upper middle class, pseudo-liberal lifestyle is upended when their adult daughter Joanna (Bryce Gangel) brings home an acclaimed African American doctor, John (Michael Aaron Pogue). The two naïve lovers wish for their parents’ blessing before they proceed with a hasty marriage. In asking, Joanna and John call into question everything they’ve known about their so-called progressive parents.

In today’s world, some may see an interracial marriage as no big deal. And largely, for most parts of America, it’s not a big deal. That’s what’s so interesting about this script. The characters don’t spend much time debating if it’s right or wrong for races to intermarry. What’s at stake for them is how the world will perceive their coupling and whether it’s actually putting them in danger.

This is a prickly little play about the nuances of race. That is not to say it’s not funny. In fact, it’s the sit-com style set-up of jokes and physical humor that make this show so fun to watch. Mary Beth Fisher is a gifted physical comedian. It’s a real treat to see her quickly twisting facial expressions, she’s able to get so much across without dialogue. Working off her is Sydney Charles in the role of the Drayton’s maid, Tillie. Sydney Charles has some of the best one-liners of the evening and really brings her character to the focal point.

The young lovers portrayed by Bryce Gangel and Michael Aaron Pogue are what this show comes down to. There’s so much chemistry between these two and that is key. The audience has to believe in this love in order to believe in the parent’s eventual coming around. Gangel so aptly captures the stubborn optimism of her character through an almost lilting speech pattern. In her final monologue, Gangel goes from school girl crush to a woman seriously in love.

The Court Theatre’s area premier of Todd Kriedler’s stage adaptation of ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner’ is very cute. It’s strange to say a play about tense race relations is cute, but it’s a play about love. It’s also incredibly sleek. The costumes and sets are like an episode of Mad Men. While the direct themes may not be entirely relevant in a post Marriage Equality world, there are still indirect themes that must be discussed. This play is making a bigger point about the subtler forms of racism that are present in even the most liberal minded places.

Through April 15th at Court Theatre. 5535 S Ellis Avenue. 773-753-4472

Whenever things get hot in America, Arthur Miller comes back in vogue. It's hard to fathom what he would think of today's world though. Court Theatre features Miller's first hit play 'All My Sons' . Directed by Charles Newell, this provocative new production is vibrant and exceedingly well acted.

'All My Sons' first appeared on Broadway in 1947, establishing Arthur Miller as a major playwright. Though considered among his best, there's an amount of melodrama here that later Miller works would shed. In this dark play, he examines the moral and psychological effects of WWII on ordinary Americans.

John Judd plays Joe Keller, the good-guy neighbor type who has just arrived home from prison. He's been acquitted of manufacturing faulty airplane parts that caused plane crashes in WWII. His partner remains in jail having accepted all responsibility. His adult son Chris, played by Timothy Edward Kane survived the war while his brother Larry did not. On an ordinary summer day Chris invites Larry's former fiance and daughter of Joe's business partner, Annie (Heidi Kettenring) for a visit. Chris' mother Kate (Kate Collins) cannot reconcile that Larry is dead and is slowly unraveling.

Newell takes this script in an interesting direction. The central conflict is Joe, a normal guy with a huge moral dilemma. "I know you're no worse than most men, but I thought you were better." Miller writes. It's through Kate Collins that Newell puts the emphasizes on the women's narrative of this play though. Kate's dialogue swings from reality and delusion so rapidly. Collins' interpretation has an eerie Blanche DuBois quality to it. This is also a story about a woman losing her grip in a time when life was supposed to be cheerful.

Heidi Kettenring brings Annie to the foreground in this version. With 'All My Sons' Miller wanted to show how aspects of the war effected all parts of America. Many women were left widows. Social constructs made finding love more challenging for women. Kettenring captures every scene she's in. Her portrayal of a lonely woman with few options is haunting.

Newell's production is artful. The staging is vivid and unique. When every theater company is offering Arthur Miller, it's cool to see how these works are being reinterprated to appeal to a new generation. For some, two and a half hours of classic American theater sounds like a school field trip. Newell's production proves that there's always a new way to see a play.

Through February 11th at Court Theatre. 5535 S Ellis Ave. 773-753-4472

The live sounds of 30’s and 40’s jazz transform Court Theatre into a music venue in this production of Five Guys Named Moe. Written by Clarke Peters and directed by Resident Artist Ron OJ Parson, with Music Director Abdul Hamid Royal and Associate Director Felica P. Fields, this lively musical is a tribute to the great songwriter and saxophonist Louis Jordan (1908-1975), who went down in history as an innovator and popularizer of “jump blues,” a dance forward mix of jazz, blues and boogie-woogie, that paved the way for rock’n’roll in the 1950’s.

The uncomplicated plot provides the perfect canvas for Louis Jordan’s greatest hits and goes something like this: Nomax (Stephen ‘Blu’ Allen) is a clueless but perfectly lovable young lad who is broke and heartbroken because his girlfriend left him. Drinking at home one night and listening to Louis Jordan’s hits on the radio, depressed Nomax is whining about his life, when out of the blue (no pun intended) his radio erupts with five guys, who climb out one by one, introduce themselves as Big Moe (Lorenzo Rush Jr), Eat Moe (James Earl Jones II) , No Moe (Eric A. Lewis), Four-Eyed Moe (Kelvin Roston Jr), and Little Moe (Darrian Ford), and get the party started with ‘Five Guys Named Moe.’ Because five heads are better than one, The Five Moes are very helpful in trying to solve Nomax’s lady problem; the dynamic and superbly fun hits “I Like ‘Em Fat Like That” and “Messy Bessy” are prove of that. Not to mention “I know What I’ve Got” and “Safe, Sane and Single,” which were outstanding. Louis Jordan’s use of comedy in his songwriting had become one of the most prominent elements in his music, for he “laughed to keep from crying”. Besides, having been married five times, he most certainly contemplated the relations between the opposite sexes in his own life.

There was some great talent on that cleverly designed stage made to look like inside of an old radio (scenic design by Courtney O’Neill). Powerful voices, the most remarkable of them Darrian Ford’s [whose new original vocal jazz album, The New Standard, is set to release later this year], impressive dancing with occasional somersaults thrown in for a good measure (by James Earl Jones II), Lorenzo Rush, Jr’s commanding presence and hilarious relic, always on.

The band is no slouch either: led by the pianist/Music Director, winner of the NAACP Image Award for Broadway’s Five Guys Named Moe composer/arranger Abdul Hamid Royal, who had worked with many recording artists, such as Liza Minelli, Stevie Wonder, Natalie Cole, and Christina Aguilera, to name just a few; it produces a tight sound.

By the end of the First Act, the audience is playfully forced to sing the silly lyrics to “Push Ka Pi Shi Pie,” and some fortunate first row attendees are dragged onto stage to dance with the cast and then led to the lobby bar. Hey, “What’s the Use Of Getting Sober?”, right?

Second Act takes us to The Funky Butt Club, where the Five Moes have a gig to do. The sounds of old jazz are like an anti-anxiety remedy, taking us to a different time far, far in the past, it seems. What great 63rd Season opener for Court Theatre! “Five Guys Named Moe” is being performed at Court Theatre through October 8th. For more show information visit www.courttheatre.org.

*Now extended through October 15th

Court Theatre’s production of Harvey tells the fable of Elwood P. Dowd.

Played wonderfully by Timothy Edward Kane, Dowd is an independently wealthy bachelor whose immense warmth and engaging demeanor earns him friendship readily with everyone. This includes the 6’ 3½” tall white rabbit, Harvey, who for most of the play, only he can see.

Elwood lives on the estate of his late mother, where his sister, Veta Louise (Karen James Wodistch) and young adult niece Myrtle Mae (Sarah Price), have moved from Des Moines, with hopes of climbing the social ladder. But they are thwarted by Elwood’s eccentric behavior – his ongoing conversations with Harvey are off-putting to polite society. They decide to have him committed to a mental institution.

Harvey won a Pulitzer in 1944 for playwright Mary Chase (beating Tennessee Williams the Glass Menagerie, no less), and became a movie with James Stewart in 1950 –  the version of Harvey people know. No one would get these scripts confused; Williams is objectively the better writer. 

Yet Harvey has momentum, and even reaches a moment of power – which is why it is beloved by many.

Chase’s character Elwood P. Dowd reminds us of Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump, someone floating above the fray, dispensing homespun wisdom and soothing the turmoil of those around him. (The play was revived famously with Big Bang Theory’s Jim Parsons in the lead on Broadway five years ago.)

Director Devon de Mayo has maintained the piece in its 1944 time frame, almost a requirement given the script. Artifacts of period mental healthcare like shock therapy, hydrobaths, and a vaguely sadistic undercurrent among the hospital staff are unsettling, and form the basis of much of the humor: As Veta attempts to commit Elwood, she ends up in a cell instead. Upon her escape, she tells of being forcibly stripped and placed in a hot bath by an attendant she describes as a “whoremaster.” I think that was cut from the film.

Chase has also delved into Irish myth with Harvey. The rabbit is a Pooka, in Celtic lore a shapeshifter that could tell the future, and visit outcasts to improve their lives. 

Court Theatre’s production of Harvey goes for the broad humor, and a sort of mad-cap pacing from screwball comedies. And the audience was laughing from the get go, though I was not caught up in the frivolity, at least not right away.   

Timothy Kane as Elwood P. Dowd provides the anchoring performance for all the froth on stage. Kane is a most remarkable comedic actor – hilariously funny in One Man-Two Guvnors at Court Theatre last year.

Kane’s Elwood hooks us in a soliloquy on how to live properly, building soon after to the climactic scene that gives the play it’s heft.

Here Kane turns on Elwood’s magic, playing admirably against Amy Carle, who also shines in the scene as cabby E.J. Lofgren. Elwood is about to be treated at the mental institution to end his visions of Harvey, when the cabby appears, angrily demanding the fare be paid before Elwood gets his treatment.

But then the cabby succumbs to Elwood’s charms as he pays her. When Elwood exits to meet his fate and loose his Pooka, the cabby explains to the family that other patients he has driven who are treated also lose their goodness, and become just like regular people – mean spirited and venal. That's why she wanted to be paid first - to get a bigger tip.

This scene is a clincher and saves the play. 

Maybe it is the writing, or perhaps the timing and delivery were a bit off, but it felt as though every character in this production were defining their role independently of each other. The chemistry worked reasonably well between Lyman Anderson, MD, (Erik Hellman) and Ruth Kelly, RN (Jennifer Latimore brought a grace to the role). Woditsch, Price, and A.C. Smith as William Chumley, MD didn’t make me laugh. And it seemed Jacqueline Williams was a too dour for the role of Judge Mara Gaffney - perhaps not a good casting choice.  

Kudos on the set and lighting. Harvey plays through June 11 at Court Theatre in Hyde Park. 

The Chicago premiere of a Tom Stoppard play is one of the most hotly anticipated events of this season. We’re never short for great Stoppard productions in this town, but The Hard Problem was Stoppard’s first new play in nine years when it debuted in 2015, and since Court Theatre’s Charlie Newell can be trusted to mount a strong production, the author is undoubtedly the main draw. Some of his best-known plays, such as the recently produced Travesties and Arcadia, were extremely complicated, sprawling works which required the audience to have a sizable pre-existing knowledge of artistic movements and the interplay between culture and technology, but The Hard Problem, as the title states, zeroes in on a single issue which, depending on which side of it you fall on, might not really seem to be a problem at all. Whether the mind is a function of the brain or has an ethereal quality is not something Stoppard attempts to answer definitively, but the degree to which this play interests you will largely depend on your investment in the debate.

Chaon Cross owns the part of Hilary, the only fully three-dimensional character in the play. A young psychologist whose path in life has had some unexpected hiccups, Hilary is dependent on Spike (Jürgen Hooper), an evolutionary biologist, to help her fake the mathematical credentials she needs to get a job with the Krohl Institute, a research lab dedicated to solving the mind-body problem. She doesn’t even particularly want to work there, but it was the only place she applied to and heard back from. Spike is an utterly noxious, self-justifying proponent of evolutionary psychology, but it seems to be more than just a need to be perceived as good at data processing which causes Hilary to keep inviting him into her bed. Anyway, it turns out that Leo (Brian McCaskill), the man running the part of the Krohl Institute Hilary’s interested in, shares her preference for psychology over neurology, and she gets the job on her own merits.

The Krohl Institute was created by Jerry Krohl (Nathan Hosner), a billionaire hedge fund manager, to help him gain an edge over other traders. Krohl himself doesn’t really care whether the brain is a meat computer or a conduit for the sublime; he just wants to eliminate uncertainty in practical matters. Early on, we meet Amal (Owais Ahmed), a mathematician who holds the position that the soul is flesh and whom Krohl later punishes for publicly predicting the 2008 crash instead of keeping it close to the vest. Amal’s growing disillusion with humans’ capacity for rational thought is driven largely by what he sees happening in the stock market, but he’s reluctant to fall into line with Hilary’s belief that this leaves us with no alternatives but belief in some kind of divinity.

The plot concerns Hilary’s struggle with a job that was never a good fit for her while her entire field appears to be in jeopardy. But Stoppard’s interest seems to be in how nobody really wants to acknowledge the true implications of their belief system, whatever that happens to be. Hilary is a less forceful arguer than Spike, but Newell’s centering of her on stage almost throughout the show and Cross’s commitment to her full range of emotions prevent us from dismissing her. Stoppard has also made her opponents repulsive Thersites-like characters, while Hilary’s on-stage ally is the kind-hearted, idealistic Bo (Emjoy Gavino). John Culbert’s scenic design doesn’t give them very many hiding places, which is perhaps why they resort to vicious verbal, and eventually, physical confrontations to make their points.

If Stoppard’s goal was to show how the debate over the hard problem spills out of sealed realms such as universities and think tanks to strike at peoples’ deepest vulnerabilities, the flatness of the other characters prevents him from quite getting there. However, he does a good enough job of illustrating his point for us to understand it. A great many people love Stoppard and Court Theatre simply for having these conversations, with no expectation the problem will be resolved. Pointing out how divorced from real life rationalism and rationalizations are is enough to make a fruitful evening, and getting to experience it being put so eloquently by fine actors is a bonus.

Recommended

The Hard Problem plays at Court Theatre through April 9, with performances on Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays at 8:00 pm, Saturdays at 3:00 pm and 8:00 pm, and Sundays at 2:30 pm and 7:30 pm. Running time is one hour and forty minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $48–68; to order, call 773-753-4472 or visit CourtTheatre.org. For more information, see TheatreinChicago.com.

Trying to explain what Black Harlem's Renaissance was like is hard. The period was so rich in creative verve, you really have to show it while you tell it. It took me awhile to grasp what playwright Pearl Cleage has achieved - and director Ron OJ Parson has brought carefully to life -  in Court Theatre's Blues for an Alabama Sky.

In this beautifully polished production, we become familiar with the lives and aspirations of five denizens of the abundant cultural life enveloping New York's burgeoning black district in the 1920s and 1930s, driven by waves of aspiring new arrivals during the Great Migration from the South to the North. The period gives rise to the first jazz concert, to international musical superstars like Josephine Baker, Paul Robeson, Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller; to writers and thinkers like Marcus Garvey, Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, and Claude McKay, who wrote the first bestseller by a black author. 

Cleage has fleshed out each of her characters - a doctor, a singer, a fashion designer, a social worker, and a carpenter - who are much more than archetypes. These are real people, each contributing a seminal thread to this tale. She has also set the timeline toward the end of that golden era, in 1930 after the market crash, as the Great Depression rolled in. 

The storyline seems surprisingly fresh, but it is true to its time: the protagonists here seem a mismatched couple - a flamboyant gay fashion designer Guy (Sean Parris), and his platonic love, Angel (Toya Turner), a gangsters' moll who tries but fails to make a living as a night club singer.  

Abandonedly outré, Guy has worked his way up from stitching gowns for cross dressers, to designing clothes on spec for Josephine Baker. The pair love and support each other as they pursue their dreams, but have no future as a couple; Angel is set on finding herself a big strong man who will take care of her, and pay the rent. Guy wants to make it in Paris.

Across the hall dwells the scholarly Delia (Celeste Cooper), who is launching the first family planning clinic in Harlem. A history lesson makes its way into the plot as the clinic is burned down. Some in the black community suspected efforts at setting up such clinics - led by Margaret Sanger - were really just part of a plot to reduce the black population. Carrying the torch for Delia is Sam, a medical doctor. James Vincent Meredith's performance gives Sam a steady, even temperament - abiding patience, and someone who is tolerant and nurturant. 

Conflict arises as Leland (Geno Walker) a widowed carpenter recently arrived from Alabama, falls for Angel. His ardor cools as he discovers he is not in Alabama anymore. In this Black Harlem, homosexuals are accepted; family planning is a matter of choice.

Each of these characters engenders our sympathy. And in the course of the action they live, die, move on - or remain stuck in place. Though Cleage wrote this work in 1995, it is completely fresh. And it has been given its due in Parson's production. Costumes and set are beautifully period, and lighting brings added dimensions to the staging. Blues for an Alabama Sky now extended through February 19th at Court Theatre.