Displaying items by tag: Steppenwolf Theatre

Rajiv Joseph’s Mr. Wolf is a striking departure from the warmth and humor of his recent King James. Where King James used the comfort of sports as a language of friendship, Mr. Wolf asks us to sit inside the fragile, fractured space of trauma. In Steppenwolf’s intimate production, ensemble member K. Todd Freeman directs with an unflinching precision that refuses to soften the material. His approach creates a space where silence weighs as heavily as dialogue, where each pause presses the audience closer to the raw pulse of grief, survival, and uneasy healing. This is a small play set against a very large world, and its intimacy makes it resonant.

The play centers on Theresa (Emilie Maureen Hanson), a teenager recently rescued after twelve years of captivity. Her abductor, Mr. Wolf (Tim Hopper), is not only a predator but also an astronomy professor who reshaped her entire worldview with cosmic metaphors, rigid theories, and apocalyptic visions. For Theresa, the cosmos—and Mr. Wolf—are inseparable. He does not see the stars as sources of wonder but as proof of his twisted logic.

Mr. Wolf bends the language of science into a doctrine of control. Whereas most scientists keep religion and science in separate spheres, he blurs that boundary, turning the vastness of the universe into a kind of scripture. He declares Theresa a prophetess of the cosmos, teaching her to view the stars not through physics and wonder but through his rigid, apocalyptic framework. Hopper embodies this chilling certainty with unnerving precision, a man who once lectured on the heavens but now orbits entirely within his own delusions.

Now reunited with her parents—Hana (Kate Arrington) and Michael (Namir Smallwood)—Theresa must navigate a world that feels as alien as the galaxies she once studied under his command. Julie (Caroline Neff), Michael’s new wife, hovers between empathy and helplessness, unsure how to reach someone marked by unspeakable experience while quietly grappling with her own grief.

The acting is superb across the board. Hanson captures Theresa’s uneasy balance of fragility and resilience. Arrington and Smallwood embody grief in contrasting shades—Arrington’s sharp-edged regret against Smallwood’s wounded stoicism—while Neff supplies a warmth the others cannot. Hopper, disturbingly calm as Mr. Wolf, delivers control with the cool precision of a man who has transformed astronomy into a theology of delusion.

The design team amplifies this unsettling intimacy. Walt Spangler’s set suggests a world we recognize—rooms, walls, familiar structures—that have splintered into pieces. Watching the play, we feel as though we are tasked with reassembling it, just as the characters try to piece together their broken lives. Dede Ayite’s costumes root the play in ordinariness, and Josh Schmidt’s sound and original music create an undercurrent of wonder. Rasean Davonté Johnson’s projections echo the celestial images that once defined Theresa’s captivity, lingering like ghosts of her indoctrination.

Freeman’s direction sharpens the play’s unease into something inescapable. Rather than offering distance, he compels the audience to witness the jagged rhythms of survival. Where King James thrived on joy and connection, Mr. Wolf strips us down to silence and difficult truths. It is a play less about resolution than endurance, and in Steppenwolf’s hands, it becomes a stark reminder of how trauma ripples outward—and how putting the pieces back together is never simple, but always necessary.

RECOMMENDED

When: Through Nov. 2nd

Where: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St.

Running Time: 90 minutes

Tickets: $20 - $133.50

312-355-1650

www.steppenwolf.org

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

If ever given the chance to see Amy Morton on her home stage at Steppenwolf–take it. She stars in the Chicago premiere of Noah Diaz’s ‘You Will Get Sick’ alongside fellow ensemble members Cliff Chamberlain, Namir Smallwood, Jordan Arredondo and Sadieh Rifai. Steppenwolf Theatre Artistic Director Audrey Francis directs this inventive new production with theatricality and compassion.

‘You Will Get Sick’ comes from writer and screenwriter Noah Diaz. It was previously seen at The Roundabout Theatre in which the late Linda Lavin starred to rave reviews. It’s the oddball story of a man with a secret (Namir Smallwood) who pays a woman (Amy Morton) to have uncomfortable conversations with the people in his life. At first the woman seems only motivated by money, but in time she becomes his unlikely confidant. The woman is preoccupied with her own dreams of starring in a local production of ‘The Wizard of Oz’. As his condition worsens, they live under the constant threat of attack from giant birds overhead.

The list of things that make this play unique is much longer than the list of things that make it familiar. On one hand, it’s not hard to draw a connection between the man’s wasting illness and his new friend’s obsession with being Dorothy Gale in ‘The Wizard of Oz’. This a story about a queer man and the illness that he will eventually succumb to. All the while, an off-stage narrator gives the internal stage directions for how the man feels. Each actor embodies several other unnamed characters that revolve around him in some way.

Sadieh Rifai portrays a handful of zany characters from nurses to new age theatre teachers, but as his sister receives bad news from Amy Morton’s character, her fury is electrifying. Rifai makes the most of Diaz’s gallows humor. Amy Morton’s performance is the centerpiece of the play though. As with her co-stars she wears a few unnamed character’s hats throughout the show, but as what’s described as “an older woman” who’s both a profit-driven jerk and a reliable caregiver–she’s complex and utterly realistic.

Diaz makes a point with ‘You Will Get Sick’ that illness in our society is seen as a moral failing. The man is ashamed for people to know he’s ill, but he’s even more embarrassed of his failing limbs. Namir Smallwood is heartbreaking as a man so lonely he has to pay people to be kind. Conversely, Cliff Chamberlain hilariously plays a swirl of toxically positive characters that seem to only exist to annoy those dealing with traumatic reality.

There’s something hard to define about ‘You Will Get Sick’, but instead of wondering what it’s about, perhaps Diaz wants you to feel what it’s about. Between the dreamy dialogue and Audrey Francis’ sumptuous vision for this production, there’s an emotional energy on stage that is quite literally magic in some parts. Even though there is tragedy in life, what this play explores is what can grow out of that and what parts of people do we carry with us after they’re gone?

Through July 20 at Steppenwolf Theatre Company. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650

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

In a masterful stroke of programming, Steppenwolf Theatre Company presents the Chicago premiere of "The Book of Grace," Suzan-Lori Parks' incendiary companion piece to her Pulitzer Prize-winning "Topdog/Underdog." Director Steve H. Broadnax III has crafted a searing production that peels back the layers of American family dysfunction with surgical precision.

Set in a small Texas border town, the play centers on an explosive triangle: Grace, played with luminous warmth by Zainab Jah, a waitress who fills her notebook with life's quiet moments of beauty, collecting them like precious stones to ward off darker thoughts.; her husband Vet (Brian Marable), a soon-to-be-honored border patrol agent, maintains order with an iron grip that hints at something more dangerous beneath the surface, and Vet's estranged son Buddy (ensemble member Namir Smallwood), whose arrival ignites a powder keg of long-suppressed trauma.

Parks, who won a Pulitzer for "Topdog/Underdog," has crafted something remarkable here - a play that feels both intimately personal and sweepingly political. She uses this family's dysfunction as a lens to examine larger American wounds: the violence we inherit, the borders we create, the ways we fail to protect what we claim to love.

Zainab Jah, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a young Cicely Tyson, delivers a tour de force performance as Grace. Her portrayal is pure magic embodied, infusing the character with an effervescent optimism that makes her eventual disillusionment all the more devastating. As the rigid patriarch Vet, Brian Marable brings a chilling authority to the role, while Namir Smallwood's Buddy simmers with contained rage, his every gesture a loaded gun waiting to go off.

Parks' script continues her exploration of fractured American identity and familial bonds. Where "Topdog" examined the relationship between brothers through the lens of historical reenactment, "Grace" turns its gaze to the combustible dynamics between fathers and sons, set against the backdrop of America's ongoing border crisis.

The circular stage becomes a cage in Broadnax III's hands. With audience members boxing in the action from all sides, the performers have nowhere to hide – much like the fractured family they portray. It's claustrophobic and intense, exactly as it should be. As the drama unfolds in Steppenwolf's intimate arena, you can feel the tension building like a pot about to boil over. The production strips away theatrical artifice to expose the raw nerves of a family—and by extension, a nation—at war with itself.

What emerges is a gothic horror story dressed in kitchen-sink realism, where the monsters aren't supernatural beings but the ghosts of American history itself: racism, violence, and the cyclical nature of trauma. Parks continues to prove herself one of American theater's most vital voices, crafting work that refuses easy answers while demanding we confront our most uncomfortable truths.

"The Book of Grace" may be a companion to "Topdog/Underdog," but it stands as its own testament to Parks' genius—a play that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go until its devastating final moments. In the hands of this exceptional ensemble, it's not just theater; it's an exorcism of American demons that feels more relevant now than ever.

Some plays entertain. Others leave scars. Suzan-Lori Parks' "The Book of Grace" belongs firmly in the second category, delivering a gut-punch of a production that lingers long after the house lights come up.

Highly Recommended

When: Through May 18

Where: Steppenwolf Theatre 1650 N. Halsted

Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes

Tickets: $20 - $110 ($15.00 student tickets)

www.steppenwolf.org/tickets--events/

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

Love is often jokingly referred to as a socially acceptable form of insanity, but in Sam Shepard’s ‘Fool for Love’ – social acceptability is an afterthought. Steppenwolf is especially known for their revivals of Shepard’s plays, and under Jeremy Herrin’s direction, their revival of ‘Fool for Love’ is as good as you can get.

‘Fool for Love’ is a gripping drama about two unstable lovers battling for control in a seedy, desert motel. The fools, May and Eddie played by Caroline Neff and Nick Gehlfluss are an equal match, dancing over the thin line between love and hate.

The one-act play opens on a hauntingly abandoned motel room somewhere in the Mojave Desert. May and Eddie cling to one another like feral animals. As the play barrels along they reveal the perverse intertwining that led them to this moment. Caroline Neff gives a wrenching and gritty performance that’s nothing short of electrifying. Nick Gehlfuss’ hulking appearance is hard to ignore, but in this version, his character is almost goofier than threatening. For that reason, their desire feels more understandable.

‘Fool for Love’ is said to live in the same universe as Shepard’s ‘True West’ and ‘Buried Child’. This play is certainly the most straightforward of the three. Here Shepard refined his exploration of brutality with a more universal central question: what makes a relationship toxic? And of course, there’s a touch of the mystic. Tim Hopper is nearly unrecognizable as The Old Man but makes for some of the most intense moments of the show.

Steppenwolf’s revival of this erotic thriller feels perfectly timed considering the success of last year’s ‘Babygirl’ and ‘Challengers’. If there’s any truth to the old adage ‘sex sells’ then the current pop culture landscape is only proving it. For years the erotic thriller seemed all but extinct as a genre which once dominated the 80s and 90s. Today there seems to be a renewed hunger for stories with sexual taboos as their subject matter.

Part of what makes this play so engrossing is the production itself. The thoughtfully designed set by Todd Rosenthal paired with Raquel Adorno’s perfect costume styling, achieve Jeremy Herrin’s vision. Every small detail tells part of the story and provides context otherwise not in the short script.

Steppenwolf’s first show of 2025 is going to be hard to top. Between the cast and the shocking script, ‘Fool for Love’ is sure to leave a lasting impression on those who see it. In confident hands, Sam Shepard’s romantic dark comedy continues to unsettle audiences even 40 years later. 

Extended through March 23 at Steppenwolf Theatre Co. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650

Steppenwolf's cozy downstairs theater provided the ideal setting for an evening of outstanding and expressive dance by the highly acclaimed Season 47 Fall Series by Hubbard Street Dance Company.

The performance began with Aszure Barton's “return to patience,” featuring the entire company uniformly dressed in simple, gray and pale blue loose-fitting attire, defying gravity by leaning into space rather than onto each other. The piece masterfully captures a sense of restless animation striving for contemplative serenity, achieving this balance beautifully. (Set to Caroline Shaw’s “Gustave Le Gray,” an adaptation of Chopin’s gentle “Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 17, No. 4”).

The second piece, a solo performance titled “Show Pony” (2018, HSDC premiere 2023), danced by Shota Miyoshi, stands in stark contrast to “return to patience.” Clad in a formfitting, shiny gold Vegas Elvis jumpsuit, Miyoshi's performance is spectacular. He is literally spotlighted with beautiful lighting by Dan Scully that appears and disappears, as he dominates the stage. The term “Show Pony” perfectly encapsulates Miyoshi's confident and explosive dancing.

Lar Lubovitch’s “Prelude to a Kiss” (2005, HSDC 2023) is a romantic delight, danced superbly by Alexandria Best and Elliot Hammans with palpable chemistry. The couple's dance and flirtation are mesmerizing, with Best sometimes hanging from Hammans' arms like an exquisite butterfly. Their duet is mesmerizing and romantic, culminating in a breathtaking moment as Hammans gently removes the shoulder straps from Best's gown, one at a time, and plants a single, masterful kiss on the exposed nape of her neck.

In “Sweet Gwen Suite”, Cyrie Topete, Dominick Brown, and Aaron Choate dazzle in wildly sexy, bedazzled leather and Mexican-style form-fitting pants and bolero jackets, with costumes designed by Bobby Pearce. This number by Bob Fosse and Gwen Verdon exudes sass, flair, and self-confidence. Brown and Choate support lead dancer Cyrie Topete, who shines in what feels like a near-solo performance. Topete makes every gesture count, from smoking and extinguishing her cigarette with a sexy twist of her leather boot toe, to the defiant lift of her chin and single smile at the end, like a victorious matador. The act was set to Herb Alpert & Tijuana Brass’ “Mexican Shuffle,” Lola Schiffrin’s “Cool Hand Luke,’ and “Mexican Breakfast” by Johnny Mandel.

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago in 'BUSK' by Aszure Barton.

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago’s opening night of the company’s Season 47 Fall Series was graced by the presence of Nicole, the daughter of Bob Fosse and Gwen Verdon. HSDC proudly became the first company to collaborate with the Verdon/Fosse Legacy to showcase Fosse's work. As a longtime admirer of Verdon/Fosse-inspired dance, this collaboration brought their iconic style to life in a thrilling and deeply satisfying way.

In the show’s final act, “Busk” by Aszure Barton opens with Elliot Hammans sleeping on the street, transforming into a character reminiscent of Buster Keaton, complete with hat and cane. Hammans' wonderfully expressive face enhances his dance performance, as he is joined by a cast of street people. Their movements range from defiant leaps to huddled masses, pleading for help with outstretched arms, their faces conveying profound sadness, struggle, and desperation. Random vocalizations are also used by the dancers, which really add to the already stunning piece. The entire dance company is involved in what is the perfect finale.

I highly recommend this incredible and passionate selection of dance performances, including the collaboration with the Gwen Verdon Bob Fosse Legacy, for audiences of all ages. The Hubbard Street Dance Chicago dancers are uniquely gifted and each piece so mesmerizing, making it difficult to pick a favorite number. The company’s Season 47 Fall Series, beautifully staged at Steppenwolf’s Downstairs Theatre, was truly a night of dance you and your family and friends will never forget.

For more information on Hubbard Street Dance Chicago’s current and upcoming performances, visit https://www.hubbardstreetdance.com/.  

(*Dancers alternate roles in performaces depending on select dates. This review reflects the dancers performing for the specific performance reviewed.) 

Ngozi Anyanwu’s Leroy and Lucy, in its electrifying world premiere at Steppenwolf Theatre, takes the legendary tale of Robert Johnson’s fateful night at crossroads and infuses it with the powerful mysticism of Yoruba spirituality. Forget the familiar Christian devil—instead, Anyanwu conjures Eshu, a complex Orisha (god) from Yoruba mythology who rules over sin and consequence, fate and chance, life and death. Directed by the fantastic visionary Awoye Timpo, this production doesn’t just retell a story; it transforms it, offering a dynamic cultural perspective that pulses with life and spirit.

Anyanwu’s storytelling is steeped in Yoruba tradition, with each line brimming with lyrical beauty and mythic depth. Lucy, played with fierce magnetism by Brittany Bradford, is Eshu personified—a playful, vain, argumentative trickster whose allure is irresistible. Leroy, played by the exceptional Jon Michael Hill, thinks he’s stumbled upon Lucy by chance, but the truth is far more chilling: Lucy has been waiting, watching, and weaving her magic to ensnare him—and the audience is captivated right along with him. Bradford’s portrayal of Lucy is utterly mesmerizing, casting a hypnotic spell that lingers long after scenes fade.

In one unforgettable scene, Legba—the Orisha known in Yoruba religions as the divine messenger and guardian of roads, paths, fate, and life—possesses Leroy’s body to confront Eshu in a thrilling clash of wills. As the master of destiny, Legba’s challenge to Eshu is charged with intense energy and revelation. The production also weaves in reincarnation, a core belief in Yoruba spirituality, adding a profound layer of spiritual depth making the play as thought-provoking as it is captivating.

Bradford and Hill’s chemistry is electric, their performances so raw and dynamic that they alone would be worth the ticket. Bradford, recently seen in Julia, The Watcher, and Dead Ringers, brings a complexity to Lucy that is fierce and enigmatic, while Hill, a Tony-nominated Steppenwolf ensemble member, infuses Leroy with vulnerability and resolve, torn between his aspirations and the spiritual forces at play.

Under Timpo’s masterful direction, Leroy and Lucy immerses the audience in a world that feels at once familiar and otherworldly. Andrew Boyce’s stunning set design, Heather Gilbert’s evocative lighting, and Conner Wang’s immersive soundscape create an atmospheric crossroads where visions flicker and secrets seem to breathe. Every element blurs the line between the earthly and the supernatural, drawing the audience into a world where they, too, must confront forces beyond comprehension.

Ultimately, Leroy and Lucy is a transcendent theatrical experience that bridges worlds—both cultural and spiritual. Anyanwu, Timpo, and the cast have created something profound and stirring: a play that speaks to ancient truths while challenging Western narratives, leaving its mark as a significant addition to contemporary theater.

Highly Recommended
When: Through Dec. 15
Where: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted
Tickets: $20 - $92
Info: steppenwolf.org

Do you like scary movies? I do. I blame the origin of this love of scary movies to being tricked into watching The Blair Witch project alone in a glass house in The Hills in Southern California in middle school; I loved the adrenaline rush, the ‘would I have survived that’ thought process that ensues. With spooky season officially upon Chicagoland, do you think I would miss the opportunity to see an Immersive Puppet Haunted House? No chance.

House of the Exquisite Corpse IV: SUPERSTITIONS is an annual themed anthology of puppetry art show. Part haunted house, part puppet show, and part platform for artists to create an immersive, experimental, non-hierarchical art form. The immersive puppet show features six haunted rooms which feature a different puppet show that run about 5-6 minutes a piece. You as a viewer observe the performances through peep-holes, adding to the voyeuristic horror-like setting. Each year, teams of multidisciplinary  puppet artists anchor to one particular theme which the artists interpret, prepare, and perform for audiences. This year’s anthology is centered around superstitions, each of the performances, each selecting a different superstition to feature. There’s “Step on a Crack,” by Ken Buckingham and Corey Smith,  “Broken Mirror,” by Justin D’Acci and Pablo Monterrubio, “If you lie, the devil’s darning needle will sew your mouth shut,” by Chio Cabrera, Alonso Galue and Brett Swinney, “Through the Looking Glass,” by Felix Mayes and Cam Armstrong Smith, “A White Bird in the House is an Omen of Death,” by Jacky Kelsey, Fletcher Pierson and Kevin Wesson, “Dreams Foretell the Future,” by Sion Silva and Emilie Wingate.

I know what you might be thinking. Horror show? Not for me. But for those perhaps not a fan of scary movies, fear not. There are no jump scares, no gore, only a series of artistic expressions utilizing multiple different puppet mediums. But puppets? Really? Yes! Did you know there are actually six different types of puppetry? There are far more than just those like Lambchop (creepy) or puppets like those in Avenue Q. There are marionettes, hand puppets, rod puppets, shadow figures, and Bunraku-style puppets, and you’ll see many of these artforms on display at House of Exquisite Corpse. The puppets add to that particular spine tingling, skin crawling curiosity that one gets when watching a scary or suspenseful film and it is executed in fascinating ways.

While there are no jump scares that will leave your heart pounding, the shows do feature some visual and auditory elements such as frightening imagery, strobe lights, loud noises, and haze effects. But fear not, those so inclined may soothe any creepy crawly feels with a drink at Front Bar at Steppenwolf Theatre only steps away. You will be on your feet for the majority of the show. The floor is concrete, so you may want to wear comfortable shoes. Audience members with limited mobility will be accommodated, all you need to do is email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. to discuss any accessibility needs. The show is recommended for audiences aged 14 and over.

House of the Exquisite Corpse IV: SUPERSTITIONS runs through spooky season ending its run on November 2nd is conveniently located at the south end of the Steppenwolf complex, 1624 N Halsted, in Chicago's Lincoln Park neighborhood tickets are available at www.tickettailor.com. Don't miss your chance to see SUPERSTITIONS at House of the Exquisite Corpse, you won't regret it, just be sure to throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder, just in case.

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I walked into Steppenwolf Theatre not really knowing what to expect when going to see their new play Noises Off. Turns out, admittedly, I have never heard of the comedic art of British Farce or the original 1982 play by English playwright Michael Frayn called Noises Off. My only goal when selecting this play was to laugh and enjoy my time. I can successfully say that I did laugh a lot, and I enjoyed my time, but it took some time to get there.

The comedy show, directed by Anna D. Shapiro is a play-within-a play with a cast acting as actors, backstage crew and the director of the show preparing for an upcoming play called ‘Nothing On’. The show begins with the opening scene of actress Dotty Otley playing Mrs. Clackett, a housekeeper who is answering the phone while the homeowners are away. This takes place during a late night dress rehearsal just hours away from their opening performance. As the rehearsal carries on, many issues arise amongst the actors and the director. Missed cues, wrong lines, broken doors and lost props drives the cast into a mess. Meanwhile, drama unfolds amongst the cast with secret relationships, personal problems, and the mounting pressure of getting the show right.

The beginning of the show feels a bit confusing, having little context as to what is going on. All of the characters enter on and off the stage, while carrying two identities between their actor character and their play character. This constant movement and character changes make it a bit challenging to follow. By the end of the first act, I got the gist of what was happening and who each of the characters were.

Act I of the show is about the horrendous dress rehearsal that sets the stage and gives you an inside look at the drama and affairs amongst the cast. Act II takes you backstage, where chaos erupts during their opening night performance. And Act III brings you back to the front stage with one of the final shows for the cast. Out of the three acts, Act III is by far the best. All of the preparation, failures, and drama reaches a climax with a dizzying final performance with everything that could go wrong in a play. I found myself laughing along with the majority of the crowd during Act III.

The Steppenwolf Theatre stage hosts the set of the ‘Nothing On’ play the actors are preparing for. The set is the inside of an old British home with a staircase and many, many doors waiting to be slammed. The stage smoothly rotates between acts as you move to the front and back stages. The stage design works well for the show and gives enough dimension to keep things interesting.

I am thoroughly impressed by the cast in this show. Each actor seamlessly switches in and out of their play characters without error. Most of them carry the British accents well, while others could finesse it a bit more. By the third act, the actors were flying off and on stage, changing props, exchanging lines and swapping characters rapidly. I felt my head spinning and was shocked by each actor’s ability to carry on at that pace.

Rick Holmes who plays the Director of the play named Lloyd brilliantly captures the God complex a stereotypical play director holds. He’s condescending, pessimistic and truly vain. Holmes is convincing in his role as the director, and he exudes the distasteful personality of a narcissistic director who gets inappropriately involved with his cast. Meanwhile the cast in the ‘Nothing On’ play is a mixed bag of over-confident, lackadaisical, overly emotional, and dramatic personalities. Each character has a unique personality, which is entertaining to watch as the drama unfolds.

One standout cast member is Andrew Leeds who plays Garry Lejeune and his character Roger Tramplemain. Leeds is a quirky actor who is confident in his role and questions the director on a few of his decisions. I found Leeds to be the most exaggerated character with ridiculous behavior and a very convincing fall down the long staircase. He is quick in his character’s actions and is hilarious in his lines. He seems experienced in all things farce comedy and effortlessly switches in and out of his Garry and Roger roles.

Izumi Inaba’s costume design for the show embraces the 70s era style for the ‘Nothing On’ play with bright vibrant patterns. Each costume accurately portrays the characters each of the actors were playing. Some of the costume pieces eventually become props in the show and work as comedy pieces.

This production runs approximately 2 hours and 40 minutes with two short intermissions. The show itself feels a bit long between the first two acts but quickly picks up speed by Act III. I recommend getting to the theatre early and grabbing a drink and a small snack at the front bar.

As mentioned before, this show is based on a British farce comedy and the touring production of a bedroom farce. Farce is a style of comedy that heavily relies on physical and sometimes violent humor and ridiculous highly exaggerated situations. This show is well suited for adults who are into slapstick comedy and find “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” funny. Not to mention this show is loud in parts. There is a lot of door slamming and the play is ironically named Noises Off. I found this show to be pretty funny as I picked up on farce humor. This show is truly chaotic, stressful, a tad confusing and just downright absurd in the best way.

Noises Off, a Co-Production with Geffen Playhouse, is now playing at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company located at 1650 N Halsted Street in Chicago. This show will run from September 12th to November 3rd. Showtimes include 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Saturdays and 3:00 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays. Single tickets for the show range from $20-$148 and are now on sale at steppenwolf.org and at the Box Office at (312)-335-1650.

Steppenwolf’s Laurie Metcalf gives us a tour de force performance in playwright Samuel D. Hunter’s masterful “Little Bear Ridge Road.” But you might find this is a little different than the roles from Ibsen and Albee for which she won Tony’s on Broadway.

As Sarah, the 60ish cranky nurse living alone in backwater Idaho, she may remind you a bit of Roseanne Barr (whose sister Metcalf played on TV): brusque and sometimes mean, but her remarks are more reflective, less scattershot than the commedienne's.

Set in the outskirts of Troy, Idaho during COVID, the play opens with Sarah in rubber gloves cleaning around her three-seat, motorized recliner sofa - the only thing we’re given in the way of a set. But to what amazing use Metcalf and director Joe Mantello will put that recliner.

Soon Sarah’s nephew Ethan arrives, (Micah Stock is excellent), and after the briefest of pleasantries his aunt castigates him for arriving at eleven pm, three hours past her bedtime. “You should have started earlier,” she says. “I’m doing chores to keep myself awake.” Sarah finally offers condolences and we learn the reason he is visiting: to settle the affairs of his late father, a meth addict who died the week before.

Our sympathies go right to Ethan, but that will change. Hunter’s masterful and subtle script unfolds and unfolds these two, peeling back the layers of who they are and how they got that way.

Metcalf’s performance as Sarah is striking. Tony winning director Mantello, who partnered with the Steppenwolf actress to commission Hunter’s script, has Metcalf roaming the stage, exiting left and right but still shouting dialog back to Ethan. Stock is every bit as good, but his character is wounded, emotionally stunted, and ultimately less likable. His mother, we learn, ran away when he was young, probably because his father was an active addict throughout his upbringing.

Another wonderful thing about “Little Bear Ridge Road” is the freshness and immediacy of the dialog. The playwright, through Sarah, gives us the things we really talk about today: the grind of punishing jobs, details of medical conditions and attendant bills, and especially, picking apart streaming video series as we binge through meals ensconced in our recliners. The playwright (Hunter wrote the stage version of “The Whale” which won an Oscar in its film adaptation) indicates where actors’ lines overlap, the way we naturally talk over each other. And he gives the cast three volumes for delivery: explosive, normal speech, and implied lines in enduring silences. Oh does it work!

Metcalf’s Sarah, in particular, puts this guidance to amazing use, especially as we listen in on her side of phone conversations. When she dresses down a work scheduler, her voice is hellfire, like she flipped open the door of a blast furnace. As she abruptly ends the call, Sarah resumes a conversation with Ethan, all collected and nice as you please. At a few points she toggles back and forth between these voices quickly, and suggesting this is how she battles for survival with the outside world.

As the scenes advance, we advance in time, and to other locations, all portrayed with lighting (Heather Gilbert) and this simple set of a recliner sofa on a turntable. We’re at Ethan’s father’s house, where we watch as he flits through his late dad’s effects; a bar in Moscow, Idaho where men hook up with men and Ethan meets James, an astrophysicist grad student; a hillside where the two look up at the stars and James names and describes them.

A year after selling the house, Ethan somehow is still in that recliner with Sarah. In one remarkable scene Sarah and Ethan debate the merits of a streaming show— a particular preoccupation of our COVID sequestration that still endures. The two rise and fall in their individual seats, moving from supine to sitting, and back, leg rests rising and falling, one character ascending another descending, as they sallie and joust in the discussion. If barcaloungers have body language, this is surely it.

And James begins to appear on the sofa as well. Sarah and James forge their own relationship, and the gradual revelations—Ethan’s mother abandoned him to his father, who was addicted to methamphetamine (the drug in the streaming series “Breaking Bad”), Sarah had miscarriages, and daunting medical challenges.

The playwright’s smartphone voices in particular merit our consideration. They are Sarah’s lifelines to real relationships, two of them credited as Kenny and Vickie, whom we never see. But Sarah does, on Facetime. These voice characters recur, a kind of chorus of commentary that advances the action. Facetime Vickie (played by Meighan Gerachis) calls out Sarah’s co-dependency on her brother, and now with her clinging nephew Ethan. Gerachis is also onstage at the end in a spot-on performance as a nurse, Paulette.

A play that takes us along new paths into unexplored terrain, “Little Bear Ridge Road” comes highly recommended. Its run has been extended until August 4, 2024 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago.

“Together we created this nothingness,” says Audrey Francis in Steppenwolf’s production of Larissa Fasthorse’s ‘The Thanksgiving Play’. Hot off its Broadway run, this madcap comedy cuts right to the bone. Under Jess Mcleod’s direction, the intimate cast leaps right off the stage.

‘The Thanksgiving Play’ is about three elementary school teachers and one sassy actress who come together to devise a children’s play that illustrates the first Thanksgiving. In a fast-paced one-act, emotions and hypocrisies run amok.

Logan (Audrey Francis) plays the director, a role the actress and Steppenwolf Artistic Director Audrey Francis is used to playing. What a treat it is to see Francis on stage in her element. Francis is a masterful actor, and this play is but another entry in a long list of perfect performances.

Logan is dating her New Age-y coworker Jaxton (Nate Santana) who is also enlisted to help with the Thanksgiving play alongside Caden (Tim Hopper). Thinking they’re being progressive, they hire who they assume is a Native American actress, Alicia (Paloma Nozicka). Without a script, the four theatre artists must work together to tell a story that pays deference to Native American culture. Though well-intentioned, the all-white creative team exposes everything wrong with today’s supposed “woke” ideals.

At its core, ‘The Thanksgiving Play’ is a scathing satire of the “white savior” complex. Though Logan’s heart is in the right place, it’s perhaps her over-education on race-related issues that finds her with her foot in her mouth throughout the play. Larissa Fasthorse’s play suggests that some allies are more concerned with the outward appearance of racism than they are with true authenticity.

As we’ve been told, the very first Thanksgiving was a breaking of bread between settlers and natives to commemorate their collaboration during the harvest season. We can likely agree this probably was more fiction than fact, but for the sake of a children’s play, maybe the gruesome truth isn’t appropriate. Fasthorse’s play asks the audience is there a better way to tell this story with both respect and truth?

Things quickly fall apart between the creatives as they all battle to enact their own will. Sound familiar? ‘The Thanksgiving Play’ is as much an allegory as it is a comedy. Paloma Nozicka’s character Alicia, who is there to be the token Native American character presents an interesting observation: smart people are often not content. The white characters in the play make their lives more complicated with rules and propriety which leads to their unhappiness. Whereas Alicia lives simply and seems really happy. With these parallels established, Fasthorse could be seen as making an argument that European settlers brought neuroses with them to the New World. 

It’s a remarkable thing to hear a crowd of intellectuals be able to laugh at themselves. A lot of the dialogue will leave you with your jaw open because it’s chock full of ideas you know better than to articulate, such as “why isn’t there a white history month?”

‘The Thanksgiving Play’ is not a show for the humorless. It’s a blistering send-up of how bleeding-heart white people can find themselves twisted in knots trying to appease political correctness, and at what cost.

Through June 2 at Steppenwolf Theatre Co. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650