Displaying items by tag: Keith Parham

Immediately following the gastronomical excesses of Thanksgiving are the monetary investments and personal sacrifices we make for Christmas.  At the heart of both is family and the importance we place in coming together to sustain and strengthen seminal bonds. 

In 1931, a 34-year-old college professor at the University of Chicago took the long view of these ritual gatherings and focused on what they look and feel like over time.  In his beautifully crafted one act play, The Long Christmas Dinner, Thornton Wilder also manages to deliver an incisive and sobering treatise on time and its fleeting fragility.  What he does so exquisitely in the 26 pages of his script is to point us in the direction of using that time most fully and appreciatively.  Chicago’s TUTA Theatre, who “searches for the unique and exceptional in the language of theatre”, has generously brought this rarely produced treasure to the stage at the sparkling new Bramble Arts Loft in Andersonville for the Christmas season.

Wilder has the prosperous Bayard family act as proxies for all families and takes us with him as he visits them experiencing Christmas dinners that span the course of 90 years and four generations.  He pays close attention to how the family interacts and the way they voice convictions, concerns and priorities.  In many ways, perhaps in all ways, they’re a very typical and intrinsically familiar family.  That notion becomes more and more entrenched as the play progresses.  When it opens, Lucia (Alexis Primus) is about to welcome her mother-in-law, Mother Bayard (Joan Merlo), to the dinner table of her new home.  Her husband, Roderick (Matt Miles) leads the family firm and is the classic head of the house as seen in the era.  Proud of his wife, his mother and his success, he glows with the light of the supremely satisfied.   Although wheelchair bound, Mother Bayard’s vibrant mind and observant eye reveal a robust inner vitality.  It’s her penchant for too frequently repeating how clearly she remembers seeing Indians in the streets during her youth and riding rafts across the Mississippi that hint at the creeping cognitive malaise common found in the aging.

Although rather formal by today’s standards, you can still easily recognize that beneath the rituals of decorum the family practices in their interactions that there is a true closeness of hearts. You feel how sacrosanct kinship is to them. Still, the circle of life encompasses families just as it does individuals.  We are born and we die.  And it’s the way that The Long Christmas Dinner treats these events that make us evaluate ourselves and our relationships with our own families.

The entire play occurs around a stately dining table in the middle of the stage.  Laden with gleaming silverware and China, the luxurious Oriental carpet it rests on and the elegant linear chandelier floating above it are the few things that will remain unchanged.  Two dimly lit doorways, one on the left and the other on the right of the stage, represent the ending and beginning of life, respectively.  Keith Parham’s quietly graceful set surreptitiously becomes its own character.   Stoic and impassive as it witnesses transitions through each doorway.   His lighting design would go on to memorably propel and enhance the dramatic impact of the play. 

Watching the arch of Uncle Branden’s presence was particularly impactful. Full of life, song and playful mischief, he was such a bright light when he first came to dinner.  Assuredly played by Wain Parham, he began to change when Roderick, his cousin, fell victim to his excesses in drink.  Branden’s silence began to grow when Roderick later passed through the doorway symbolizing death.  As he watched Roderick and Lucia’s children, Charles (Huy Nguyen) and Genevieve (Charlie Irving) grow, his warmth remained, but his effervescence and spontaneity notably faded until he too slowly drifted through the portal on the left.

As new generations of Bayard’s are born, explosions of joy and happiness are plentiful on the right where nurses dressed in immaculate white emerge through the passageway cradling babies who soon grow to teenagers and adults.   Often bearing the names of those who proceeded them, old names become new again and we can’t avoid noticing the cyclicality of existence.  Rather than a crown denoting succession, among the Bayard women a shawl becomes the item that chronicles the passage and toll of time.  Used to keep aging shoulders warm, it symbolizes both the inevitable and the blessing of continuity.   That same continuity can be heard when certain random phrases and observations are made by each successive generation that none had heard spoken before by someone else in the family.

Rifts, discord and the realities of life erupt in this very respectable family as they can and do in all.  Stifled by family expectations and the limitations of living in a small town, Charles’ son, Roderick II (Matt Miles) bolts to California when confronted about his drinking and lack of interest in familial responsibilities.  Charles and his wife Leonora (Seoyoung Park) had already lost a son during the first World War and their second son’s departure marked a crippling blow.  As we’re reminded by numerous characters throughout the play, time may not heal grief, but it soothes sufficiently to ease its pain and weight.  When Joan Merlo reappears as distant cousin, Ermengarde, that kind of wisdom flows with the power of rushing rapids.  A highly accomplished craftsman, Merlo’s phrasings of speech were transfixing as she wrapped the profound in tiny pellets of simplicity.  Her gleam of excellence ran through the entire cast, who were uniformly splendid. 

Most impressive was the meticulous pacing and abundance of satisfying nuance director and TUTA co-artistic director, Jacqueline Stone, built into the production.  She insured small gestures resonated with unexpected force and light touches of humor glittered brightly enough to make the project shine with warmth and contemporary flair.

In a time and landscape where holiday entertainment options are virtually endless, The Long Christmas Dinner counts as an especially rewarding option from a company who has a knack for curating works of discreet brilliance.

The Long Christmas Dinner

Through December 29^th, 2024

TUTA Theatre Company

Venue:  Bramble Arts Loft

5545 N. Clark Street

Chicago, IL  60640

https://www.tutatheatre.org/the-long-christmas-dinner-tickets

Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band begins and ends with music, not what Americans think of when they think of Cambodia, as the glib narrator points out, shifting from slides of musicians whose songs are nearly lost to history to more familiar images of the genocide that resulted in their loss. Yee’s play, now in its Chicago premier at Victory Gardens, is a celebration of the lives that were lost under the brutal Khmer Rouge regime, first to violence (nearly two million people were killed within four years), then to guilt, time and a desire to forget. Underscored and interspersed by classic Khmer pop songs, 60’s and 70’s Cambodian surfer punk, and original songs by Dengue Fever that pay tribute to their Cambodian roots, Cambodian Rock Band is about a band, a genocide and a Cambodian father and his American daughter trying to connect. There is a lot going on, not all of it works, and it can get messy at times, but ultimately, Cambodian Rock Band is a fast-paced, entertaining, timely and moving call to art and action with a rocking score.

Welcome to Cambodia! It’s 1974 and Cambodian band Cyclos is rocking out. Until they are ushered off the stage by an as-yet unnamed emcee who segues from the Cambodian musical scene into the atrocities that most Americans think of when we think of Cambodia in the 1970’s. Enter Chum, who settled in America in in the late 1970’s and who is back in Phnom Penh to pay a surprise visit to his 26-year-old daughter, Neary, who is helping prepare the case against a Khmer Rouge war criminal, Comrade Duch, the warden of the S21, a notorious prison that only seven inmates survived. Chum not only seems unimpressed by his daughter’s efforts (she could have gone to Cornell Law School), but also questions their exigency. In fact, Chum seems more taken aback by his daughter’s pursuit of the case than by the fact that her towel-clad boyfriend appears in the hotel room that she calls home (though the fact that his heritage is Thai is problematic). Chum, with his embarrassing dad jokes and inadvertent double-entendres tries to steer Neary to enjoying the pleasures of Phnom Penh, its fish spa and karaoke. Neary is focused on the upcoming press conference about the case against Duch. As Neary plumbs the depths of the case, searching out survivors of S21, Duch introduces himself, and Neary slowly gets to know her father and his past. 

Marti Lyons has assembled a hard-rocking ensemble, which handles both the classic pop and surfer punk with assurance. She smoothly directs the transitions between times and places, utilizing a spare set comprised of neon, road cases, a few wheeled set pieces and a few pieces of furniture by Yu Shibagaki, visually reinforcing both the ephemerality of the 1970’s music scene and the glowing modern city that arose from the remains of the Khmer Rouge reign. Lighting designer Keith Parham and sound designer Mikhail Fiksel deftly shift the scene between the bootleg recording session, cramped hotel room, upscale hotel lounge, and claustrophobic prison cell. Izumi Inaba offers period-perfect costumes for the band and the Khmer Rouge guards, crushed velvet for our emcee and conservative suits for the employees of the Center for Transitional Justice. Times and places fade into each other, both the physical space and the musical and aural landscape, as it becomes clear that the present is inextricably bound to the past. Lyons directs with an unsentimental, clear-eyed view, not editorializing, throwing into relief the overwhelming, heart-wrenching choices faced by the characters.

The cast is uniformly excellent, delivering both moving, grounded performances and propulsive music. Leading the ensemble is Greg Watanabe as Chum, in a time-traveling portrayal that shows him going from eager, embarrassing and judgmental dad to the youthful version of character, whose coming of age was interrupted by the Khmer Rouge, and finally the father who is forced to reconcile the two. Watanabe brings the right mix of energy, humor and gravitas to the role. The catalyst for the story is Neary, whose fight for justice in Cambodia also serves to teach her about her heritage, played with humor and exasperation by Aja Wiltshire, who also plays the lead singer of Cyclos, Sothea, with brash vibrance. As her co-worker and fellow-Westerner, Ted, Matthew C. Lee provides charm and clueless bonhomie. However, it is as the self-confident, preening lead guitarist Leng, whose survival instincts lead him into the darkness of the new regime, that Lee delivers a note-perfect portrait of hopeful youth. Peter Sipla and Eileen Doan round out the band, as drummer Rom and keyboardist Pou—both are remarkable musicians and actors who capture the different responses to the encroaching threat of the Khmer Rouge, as well as filling other roles in the narrative. As the Comrade Duch, Rammel Chan is disconcertingly ingratiating, deploying brassy, reptilian charm alternating with quiet reflection that calls into question what we know we should feel. Yee’s play requires whiplash-inducing tonal shifts, and the cast navigates the transitions between past and present effectively, bringing to life the people and music of Cambodia, and effectively showing what was lost with each well-documented death in the genocide.

Cambodian Rock Band is an occasionally uneasy hybrid between rock concert, sit-com and documentary record of the Cambodian genocide under Pol Pot, but somehow the format ends up being the right mix. Though laced with humor, maybe because it is laced with humor, the play is a vivid tribute to the art and individuals who were lost in the years when the Khmer Rouge were in power. The music by band Dengue Fever revives the sounds of Cambodia in the 1970’s—both the traditional pop songs and the more Western rock sounds, that nevertheless were delivered with a Khmer accent. In telling one story and offering a glimpse into the atrocities committed by one man, Lauren Yee powerfully reminds us that those rows of black and white photos and the piles of skulls that are often Americans’ first impressions of Cambodia are just the end of many lives and stories. The energetic, talented cast unsentimentally and unsparingly bring to life the rock band of the title. An entertaining tribute to human resilience, it also does not shrink from showing the choices that allow evil to flourish. 

Cambodian Rock Band runs through May 5 at Victory Gardens Theatre, 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue. Performances are Tuesday – Friday at 7:30 pm, Saturday at 3 pm and 7:30 pm, and Sunday at 3 pm. Tickets are $32-$65. For tickets and information, visit www.victorygardens.org, or call or email the Victory Gardens Box Office at 773-871-3000 or This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..