Striking and enveloping, “Antonio’s Song/I Was Dreaming of my Son” is the most honest and accurate portrayal of how men are formed emotionally that I have ever seen. While it’s the particular story of Antonio Edwards Suarez, its authenticity raises it to the universal, in my view.

Saurez is a notable and accomplished dancer and actor, who brings his skills in dramatic movement to bear on Suarez’s biography in a one-act penned by Pulitzer-finalist Dael Orlandosmith and directed by Mark Clements.

In the opening scene Antonio gives us a captivating explanation of the challenge he encounters in managing his five-year-old while pursuing his serious creative work. He explains how he needs unfettered time alone in his studio to engage and release the spirit within that drives his work. But on this day, he unexpectedly has his kindergartener in tow, and soon enough the child is bored and wants attention. When this triggers violent anger in Antonio, and he slaps his little one, he is shocked and quickly remorseful. The rest of the performance is Antonio’s self-examination of the forces that unleashed this heretofore dormant violent streak.

With word, gesture and movement Antonio reveals his upbringing, early childhood friends, his parents, his bifurcated Black and Latino ethnicity. Conversant in street slang, in one astounding scene Antonio delivers a posturing boast of braggadocio on his manly prowess with young women, first in a sort of Spanglish street talk, then jumping to the other side of the stage, replicating it in Black argot.

Antonio’s self-awareness of the thuggish behavior that permeates his walk, talk, and demeanor, was illuminating. “Antonio’s Song” is modern in expressing the interior conversation he carries on during his personal journey. As a man and as a dad, I felt it was also a universal story. Many men have tried to tell the story of why men have problems in love and life, but Antonio fully expresses the vulnerability we experience as society pressures us into stereotypical roles that can abrogate our true selves.

Enthralled with dance after a chance TV viewing of ballet great Baryshnikov, Antonio is admonished against pursuing it as a dream by his mother, a depressive and vindictive figure. Wearing tights, moving elegantly, even delicately in dance, such pursuits are discouraged for young men as unmanly, gay-ish activities. Aspirations to finding fortune as an artist were also out of keeping with the vision of life harbored by most of Antonio’s Brooklyn peers. But his bosom buddy models a successful path into the arts. And Antonio’s father gets behind him, ultimately challenging Antonio’s mother and giving him support as his life takes him to dance school, to studies of ballet in Russia, and to a Harvard MFA.

Suarez’s stage mastery of movement is highly evident as he conjures up through expressive gesture unseen characters: his son, his dance teacher, his dying father. The creative team is also wonderful, in particular Jared Mazzochi’s project design and Luciana Stecconi’s spare but versatile set. Not knowing exactly what I would see in “Antonio’s Song,” I came away powerfully affected, and so highly recommend "Antonio's Song" at the Goodman Owen Theatre, running through May 28, 2023.

“TV Land,” a sextet of short comedies playing May 6, 7 and 8 at The Vault on Fulton Street, is a bit like the television that inspired it, with highs and lows but enough hearty laughs to recommend it.

An immersive theater event, "TV Land" puts the audience in the action, but not too much so that it would become annoying. Soon after arrival, ticket holders assembled in seats upstairs are ushered to the lower level where an open bar and gnoshes await—all included with the tickets.

A Showrunner (Anna Yee) and Head of Scripts (Kelly Lavendar) put the audience in the role of a writers’ pool charged with developing six scripts within the two-hour performance. Never worry, though, the heavy lifting on the scripts has been completed and we soon witness the opening act, “80’s Are Back,” an over the top, action-packed Charlie’s Angels send-up written and directed by Levander. The cavernous space near the bar is less than ideal for acoustics, and after this palate cleanser act we were ushered back upstairs for a more conventional setting for the next five acts.

For “Art-ish,” an examination of the possibilities of artificial intelligence in the creative arts, the audience tests out the technology in real-time, and a computer renders in seconds paintings based on our suggestions. Opening night included a cat on a trampoline in the style of Van Gogh, a pizza as if it were painted by Monet—not too different from blurred photos—and a very impressive panda as an astronaut, as painted by Georgia O’Keefe, rendered in three versions.

The ensuing one-act trades on this backgrounder somewhat, but it’s really about Charlie (Taylor Adams), an avid soccer fan who comes to watch a big game on the TV with his friend Trent (Joe Bushell). Trent is away, and his Wife (Sophia Vitello) greeting Charlie in her bathrobe, is relentless with unwelcome suggestive advances aimed at steering him to the bigger TV in the bedroom. When Trent finally arrives Charlie hugs him in relief, but we get an unexpected punchline.

The best of the bunch are “The Problem-atic” by Seph Bennett and “Intruder” by Francis Brady. “Problem-atic” is built on a funny conceit, a wand you run over text or images to identify issues of political incorrectness, insensitivity, or general wokeness, depending on your political orientation. The fast-paced and very witty issues electronically voiced by the Problem-atic device are a poke-in-the-eye at what can be overly-self conscious pretensions of contemporary culture. Bennett delivers humor in the vein of great satirists, with Sandra Adjoumani  (above) in a polished performance as the interpreter of the bad-news assessments provided by the Problem-atic device.

Francis Brady’s “Intruder” is the most refined one-act, with three scenes revolving around the intrusiveness of television in people’s lives. The Husband (Joe Bushell) has installed a giant screen high-definition TV in the bedroom, and Wife (Elizabeth Bushell) wants it gone.
“This TV is better than anything,” Husband avers. “All I want to do is decompress a little.” To which Wife objects, “Lay like a block, you mean,” demanding it be gone when she returns.

In the next scene at work Wife is in the coffee room with colleagues, talking ad nauseum about streaming shows like “Euphoria.” One co-worker Tim (Taylor Adams) confesses that he doesn’t actually like watching TV, but reads online summaries so he can carry on the water cooler talk. Why? “For the same reason I go to happy hour,” says Tim.

Two of the plays—”You Don’t Say” by Joe Bushell and “Woke Disney World” by Anna Yee— are funnier as ideas, but come off as mildly amusing on stage. “You Don’t Say” is a mash-up of a live soap opera with a reality TV show, “Woke Disney” is a self-help support group focussed on empowerment for Disney Princesses, moderated by Snow White and including latter-day princesses like Ariel, Mulan,
The Yellow Rose is one of Chicago’s newer companies, having launched during Covid, and “TV Land” demonstrates their passion, and irreverent sense of humor, always welcome on stage. Find tickets at www.theyellowrosetheatre.com

“Damn Yankees,” the vintage 1955 musical comedy at the Marriott Theatre in suburban Lincolnshire, has it all: a witty book, delicious songs, great choreography, and an excellent chorus. From the days when musical comedies were still rooted in operetta, it is truly musical, packed with memorable songs arranged in beautiful harmonies, and a Faustian storyline that gives heft to the drama.

It’s also very funny. Based on a 1954 novel, it tells the story of Joe Boyd (Ron E. Rains) a middle-aged, very rabid baseball fan who sells his soul to the devil to become a baseball great - Joe Hardy (Andrew Alstat) who uses his new-found powers to drive his beloved but terrible Washington Senators to win a Pennant and break the New York Yankees’ years-long lock on winning.

It’s wonderful to see “Damn Yankees” revived in such a definitive production. It is revisited less often than other Tony winning musicals from its era, like Richard Rodgers “South Pacific” (1949) or Frederick Lowe’s “My Fair Lady” (1956) and Meredith Wilson’s “The Music Man” (1957). Perhaps it’s the challenge of creating a convincing chorus of baseball players who can sing, dance and play ball—but director James Vasquez and choreographer James Vasquez have built a winning team here.

“Damn Yankees” breaks out of the box with a big number—Six Months Out of Every Year—featuring a quartet of male fans in dueling counterpoint melodies sung by a quartet of their wives, who lament their husbands’ preoccupation with the baseball. “Six months out of every year/When I’m with him/I’m alone” laments Joe’s wife, Meg Boyd—Daniella Dalli—a rich sonorous singer who carries this classic as well as her major more romantic numbers beautifully.

Soon enough the silky smooth, fast talking devil Applegate arrives. Sean Fortunato is a scene stealer, and knows how to get the audience roaring with his sly humor. After he seals the deal and transforms Boyd into the batting wonder Joe Hardy, Applegate sees he must fully corrupt his soul to lock him in fully as a future denizen of hell.

Enter Lola. Michelle Aravena recreates a character made indelible by the original performance by Gewn Verdon on stage and screen. And she so truly does it, in spades. This Lola is not mimicking Verdon, but is an original creation that I think may be even better than Gwen Verdon’s original. Aravena’s arrival is like a vixen jumping from a birthday cake, and wins the attention of all eyes and ears when she is on stage. She sings and dances—”A Little Brains” and the tango classic “Whatever Lola Wants”—all real time excellence, in one of the most demanding roles on stage.

The baseball chorus is also notably good and convincingly athletic—dance captain is Brian Bandura—with a show-stopping jump rope performance by Ben Broughton. From living room to locker room, the vintage in-through-round Marriott Theatre (originally Drury Lane North) showcases this production of “Damn Yankees” with flair, and nary a bad seat. Highly recommended, “Damn Yankees” runs through June 4 @MarriottTheatre

“Jagged Little Pill,” Alanis Morisette’s 1995, 16X platinum album, with 33 million copies sold, is her declaration of the terms of her self-emancipation. Timelessly truthful and inspirational, it remains an emotional catalyst for generations of people.

The album is at the core of Broadway in Chicago’s “Jagged Little Pill,” which opened Wednesday for a limited run (through April 23) at the Nederlander Theatre in Chicago. Nominated for 15 Tony Awards in 2021 following a pandemic caesura, this long-awaited Broadway roadshow is unlike other jukebox musicals— “Tina” or “Donna Summer” or “Carole King”—in that it is not a biography of Morisette. And unlike Sarah Bareilles’ “Waitress,” or The Who’s rock opera “Tommy” (coming to Goodman this summer) “Jagged Little Pill” doesn’t follow an inherent album-based storyline.

Rather, it was the emotional inspiration for a show written by Tony and Academy Award winner Diablo Cody (Juno, Tully), lyrics and music from Morrisette hits such as “You Oughta Know,” “Head Over Feet,” “Hand In My Pocket,” and “Ironic”, as well as brand new songs written for the show.

Like the album it relates an internal emotional journey, not of Morrisette, but of an upper middle class American family—rich turf for drama, from Ibsen to Chekov to Williams. “All happy families are alike, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” as Tolstoy notes, and we watch the Healy's go their own way from ostensibly happy to quite a mess. But never fear, this is a Broadway musical and they make their way back to the road to redemption to deserving standing ovations at the end.

Heidi Blickenstaff reprises her role from the Broadway production as the mother, Mary Jane Healy, with Lauren Chanel as her adoptive daughter Frankie, Chris Hoch as her husband Steve, and Dillon Klena as Frankie’s older brother Dillon. Blickenstaff has both the sensitivity to deliver Morrisette’s soulful sentiments, and the Broadway belt to go full throttle. Chanel is perfectly expressive of Morrisette’s range and when joined by her first love-interest, Jo (Jade McCleod) we have a duet providing great renditions of the album melodies, woven so beautifully to the storyline. Klena is also notable singing Morissette as older brother Nick as is Rishi Galani as Frankie’s other love interest.

One aspect of the production is particularly inventive: choreography by Beyoncé collaborator Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui. With Morrisette’s sensitive reflective lyrics (in a vein with Natalie Merchant, Sarah McLachlan, or Jewel) Cherkaoui and director Diane Paulus (known for Sarah Bareilles’ “Waitress) created dance avatars who are visually similar to the actors, but dance at major numbers relieving the leads from having to hoof it big numbers in ways that would seem out of character or clash with the underlying material.

At the other extreme, the potential for this approach can also be seen in an intimate pas de deux in which Mary Jane Healy confronts her inner demons with her dance double, Jena VanElslande. It’s a tour de force.

Another show stopper for creativity is a scene at a pharmacy played forward, then later reprised in reverse, as Mary Jane examines her path to drug addicition, a family secret until it became an undeniable plague. The recount of her growing addicition to oxycontin, graduation to harder drugs, and the crisis and intervention that led to her recovery are very accurate. 

Highly recommended, “Jagged Little Pill” runs through April 23 at the James Nederlander Theatre in Chicago.

Artistic Home has given theater goers a rare jewel of a comedy, a 1928 send-up of Soviet society that was never seen by Russian audiences because Stalin banned it. Well, his censors must have read only half way through, and clearly had no sense of humor, because this is comedy of the highest order. 

I’ll admit I was tempted to bail at intermission, as the humor in the first half felt a bit forced, and was mostly inside jokes for Soviet citizens. But as a reviewer I am pledged to see it through, and the outcome of the pivotal turning point was set up right before break. So I had to come back to find out what would happen. OMG was it funny! Take my advice and see this whole play, because you need the set-up to get the jokes in Act 2.

I’ll offer no spoilers, but in the first act we meet the hapless Semyon (Daniel Shtivelberg), an unemployed and hopeless young man who lives with his wife Masha (Kayla Adams) and mother-in-law Serafima (Kathy Scambiatterra is a hoot) in a crowded flat—perhaps situated in the apartment building lobby. The public setting of their dwelling and a common bathroom shared with the other residents assures us the opportunity to meet the postman Yegor (Reid Coker is great)—a model Soviet citizen—and another gentleman, Alexander (Todd Wojcik is a delight, as always) who seems to be sex trafficking with his willing partner, Margarita (Kristin Collins).

Semyon laments his unhappy fate, jobless and living from the earnings of his wife, while his mother-in-law manages the housekeeping. The two women are supportive despite Semyon’s dire emotional state. After failing in a last ditch effort to become a busker—he gets a tuba and instruction booklet but can’t master the instrument—his inner conflicts drive him to end it all. (The original play by Nikolai Erdman was called ‘The Suicide’ and is freely adapted here by Moira Buffini.)

Kristin Collins, Kayla Adams, Todd Wojcik and Kathy Scambiatterra in The Artistic Home's production of "Dying For It" at the Den Theatre.

Ironically, his decision to off himself makes Semyon suddenly of interest to others, and we soon see the arrival of three counter-revolutionary tropes of Stalin’s day: a member of the intelligentsia, Aristarkh (John Laflamboy plays it for all he's worth), the Westernized temptress Kiki (Brookelyn Hébert) a romantic poet Viktor (Khyel Roberson in a spot-on performance), and an Orthodox priest Father Yelpidy (Patrick Thornton). All hope to leverage Semyon's suicide to their benefit, mostly by encouraging him to write about them in his suicide note.

His neighbor the hedonist sees the occasion as a good excuse for a party, and with that Semyon’s plans to off himself become bigger than him—and the laugh fest begins in earnest.
Watching the players perform for all they’re worth in the first act had me curious, their earnest performances almost over the top with energy. Now I know why: they had all seen the second act!

Comedy is all in the timing, and credit director Monica Payne for keeping everyone on cue. Scenic design by Kevin Hagen is excellent, and costumes by Rachel Lambert are noteworthy in their authentic feel.

This rare opportunity to see a hidden gem should not be missed. "Dying For It” runs at The Den Theatre through April 23.

“The Shroud Maker” is a look into the world of Hajja Souad, an 84-year-old Palestinian seamstress, plying her artisanal trade amid the rise and fall of violence in Gaza City adjacent to Israel. Her specialty: shrouds used in Islamic funerals to wrap the deceased.

Unfortunately for the world, Souad’s business is good, and demand trends offer a depressing timeline of decades of violence in what had been Palestine. Boiling down a lengthy history, in 1948 the British relinquished control in the region pursuant to a U.N. mandate that partitioned Palestine to create a place for modern-day Israel. Surrounding Arab states launched a war against the U.N. action, and in 1948 the Arab League established a state for Palestine, which along with Israel claimed Jerusalem as its capital. And the rest is more war-striven history.

A businesswoman and expert in crafting finely stitched shrouds, Souad has seen it all over the years, and is played ably by Roxane Assaf-Lynn. The 70-minute monologue by noted Palestinian author Ahmed Masoud is drawn loosely from a real individual. Souad shares the gallows humor that is a familiar companion to those whose lifework is death.

Souad is also a survivor, someone who has suffered personal loss as one by one, over the years, every member of her own family became collateral damage in someone else’s wars. Her non-stop descriptive chatter tells her own epic story—against the backdrop of that of the people of Palestine.

Set in Gaza City, the opening scene finds Souad mid-way through an animated phone conversation, where she is warned yet again that she is in danger and should evacuate her home. This time it’s because of a limited Israeli incursion into Gaza, intended to destroy border tunnels through which contraband flows, some of it the very cotton she uses for shroud making.

“I’m not going anywhere….Besides your bloody tanks are everywhere,” Souad yells into the phone. “Your freaking army will have to kill me first.” Is she just a cranky, unreasonable old woman?

We learn she is much more than this in the course of the play, and Souad voices other characters in her life: her younger self, her father, an adopted son, and his wife, and Ghassan, their child. Two more characters from her past also appear, all of them voiced by Souad, who at 11, was removed from her farm (along with her parents) to make way for a kibbutz.

During the period before Israel was formed, her father Mahmoud was hired by the British High Commissioner Sir Alan Cunningham, as a gardener for his estate—the same Sir Cunningham whose British Army forcibly removed Mahmoud from their farm. Lady Cunningham takes a liking to Little Souad, and enculturates her as a British girl with piano lessons and training in posh British English. Essentially she is wantonly stealing Souad from her parents to replace her own child, now lost. But Lady Cunningham also teaches Souad to sew, and in her later life, Souad applies these skills to producing traditional Palestinian garments, including shrouds.

The production by the International Voices Project is nicely directed by Marina Johnson with set by Jonathan Berg-Einhorn. Ahmed Mousad’s script leans a little more toward literary—something to be read—than to stage delivery, though he generally weaves exposition in effectively. The story comes across, though the emotional side is not fully expressed. Even the best actor would be challenged, especially the demand to voice numerous characters. But the story is so authentic and compelling, coming as it does from those living in Gaza, that is is one the must be heard

“The Shroud Maker” runs through April 8 at Chicago Dramatists, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 p.m. and Sundays at 3:00 p.m.

“Describe the Night” at Steppenwolf is serious theater that is seriously entertaining. Intellectually challenging yet side-splittingly funny, it has sat with me for days after as I’ve puzzled over what it is telling us.

Written by celebrated playwright Rajiv Joseph, whose sly wit enthralled audiences in Steppenwolf’s “Guards at the Taj,” the somewhat enigmatic script is also a captivating mystery story. It follows the emergence of famed Russian Jewish author Isaac Babel’s wartime journal, an uncensored record of his war time impressions.

Depicting real and fictional characters, Joseph spins a possible recount of how Babel’s journal survived while much of his writing was banned and destroyed. The title of the play was taken from that journal kept while Babel served as a war correspondent and propagandist for the Soviets in their 1920 war against Poland. Babel was a rising fiction writer when he signed into the military, and soon after the war wrote Red Cavalry, drawn from his personal impressions of the war, quite at odds with the positive spin he delivered in the news.

Eventually, under increasingly oppressive censorship, much of Babel’s fiction writing was banned by Russian authorities, the author imprisoned in 1939, and executed in 1940, with his working manuscripts, notes, and the journal offered in evidence at his trial. In the play's portrayal of the search for the surviving journal, we see two fictional connections to Babel—the grandmotherly babushka Yevgenia (Sally Murphy) and her granddaughter Urzula (Charence Higgins)—tailed by KGB operative Vova (Glenn Davis is pitch perfect).

The KGB wanted not just the writer dead, and his manuscripts and books destroyed, but his source material too. Hence the ongoing search for Babel’s journal. Vova's menacing presence is palpable, but his efforts are thwarted by the ditzy Yevgenia who charms him and all of us with an earnest insistence that he join them for soup. Vova acquiesces, and the playwright gives as a surreal dinner scene—foreshadowed deftly in Act 1—that is one for the ages, the laugh until you cry type.

It also encapsulates one powerful truth in “Describe the Night,” that a great antidote to disinformation and oppression is to laugh at it, buttressed with “alternative facts” as "truth" in our own age of disinformation and “the big lie” is in danger of becoming. In other words, we live in a time when truth and lies are harder to distinguish. And this evolving dynamic of confusion within society is at the core of "Describe the Night."

Written in 2014 and produced in 2017, “Describe the Night” predates our own unfortunate circumstances, with libraries censored, school curricula bowderlized, and news content cued to television ratings rather than impartiality. Reviews of other stagings have recognized the importance of this play, but it seems in Steppenwolf's production under the direction of Austin Pendleton, the actors have nailed the comic timing that makes the show so effective.

Kudos too, for scenic design by Collette Pollard, whose representation of the extensive KGB files on parties of interest is another high point of the show, played also to great comic effect. On Steppenwolf’s newest in-the-round theater space is a blank tablet with minimalist sets introduced only when required. Sound design by Pornchanak Kanchanabanca is noteworthy, from light touches of evocative music to dramatic sound effects such the roaring inferno where many of Babel’s writings are destroyed.

In some ways “Describe the Night” is an absurdist style play, the characters not naturalistic. But Joseph, who also won a Tony for his "Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo," leavens this with his signature style of natural contemporary speech. We see this particularly as two real life characters, Isaac Babel (James Vincent Merredith) and his military minder and friend Nikolai (Yasen Peyankov) who joust about the nature of truth. Likewise with two fictional characters from scenes in post-Soviet times, airport car rental agent Feliks (Jack Cain) and reporter Marikya (Caroline Neff, who I never can get enough of on stage). Mariyka also comes under questioning Vova in the search for the missing journal, making a connection to contemporary times.

This show flies by in two hours and forty-five minutes, and the first act is engaging and promising, on which the second act delivers in spades. I had no idea how much time had passed when the lights came up. “Describe the Night” runs through April 9, 2023 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. It’s a great production of what is proving to be a seminal play.

“Signed, Sealed, Delivered: A Stevie Wonder Experience with John-Mark McGaha” was a warm refuge from the frigid Chicago weather for its opening night February 23. The Mercury Theater at Southport in Wrigleyville is the perfect venue for a show like this, intimate but big enough for the inevitable crowds of Stevie Wonder fans—myself included.

Two approaches are usually taken to creating live cover shows of favorite artists —a tribute band that impersonates the performer, or an interpretive review. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” is the latter, and a better approach, given Stevie Wonder’s already long career and sweeping catalog. It also allows for a definition of Wonder’s place in the pantheon of greats, and a recount of the forces that shaped his soul, which infuses his music and lyrics. 

This show describes Wonder’s overall creative energy as one expressive of “jubilation” and that essence is the best explanation I have heard. His music celebrates life, and shares his joy.
His work can be approached from many angles, with his many platinum tracks, and so many hits from this precocious musical phenomenon. Wonder at age 12 was the youngest ever to have a Billboard No. 1 record - “Baby, Everything is Alright” - which writer and director Angela Ingersoll places early in the evening, and generally the 16 or more songs performed in the show were chronological.

Performing Stevie Wonder’s songs is John-Mark McGaha. Warm and personable, he sings, plays guitar and piano, and is backed by a second keyboardist (Will Kurk on synth/keyboard and lending vocals) a trumpet, saxophone, base guitar, drums, and a pair of back-up singers. With this retinue they were able to play every style of song Wonder is known for, from his big production mega hits like “Superstition,” “Always,” “For Once in My Live” and “You Can Feel It All Over.” While Wonder’s signature harmonica was missing, occasionally Kurk filled in with a synthesized version.

The show does not mimic or impersonate Wonder’s recordings, though some numbers precisely followed the originals. But this is indeed a Stevie Wonder Experience, in which Ingersoll’s script and McGaha’s ongoing patter provided context for some works that cast a new meaning and new insights into the songs. McGaha, an accomplished performer and highly trained musician, has a personal passion for Wonder, and he shares personal anecdotes (once in awhile a little long) about how the music touched his own life

We learned about Stevie Wonder’s mother, who fled an abusive marriage with children in tow. We learn that one of Wonder’s early songs, written at 16 after a teenage romance fell apart, was put on hold, then released two years later by his producers. The song? “My Cherie Amour.” Until he was 21, Wonder’s music earnings were held in trust. He did receive an allowance: $2.50 a week. When he received the money held in trust, Wonder had earned $31 million in royalties, though he netted just $1 million. That's showbiz, and Wonder, also the youngest artist inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, soon took full control of his career, song rights, and recordings.

Some arrangements were very fresh. Opening night the acoustics were probably not fully tuned, and seemed to be affected by the room filled for the first time with an audience. At times McGaha strained to be heard above the band. In his own performances Stevie Wonder’s voice is always preeminent.

When McGaha left the stand-up mic and sat at the baby grand to sing, the band was in better balance with him. One particularly arresting number—Wonder’s 1985 “Overjoyed” —featured McGaha accompanying himself solo on electric acoustic guitar. It was his very own treatment of a song that had personal meaning to both the performer and Wonder. And it was so deliciously good and emotionally powerful that I hope McGaha releases his version

Wonder’s melodies, chord progressions, and inventive lyrics are among the reasons we regard him as a genius. While some of his cuts were topping the charts, Wonder’s pop hits were played so continuously they became grating. I was not looking forward to hearing “I just Called to Say I Love You.” But the story McGaha told of its origins and the arrangement by Kurk was really, really wonderful.

After playing Wonder’s biggest hit, “Superstition,” the show reached its finale with “Ribbon in the Sky,” one of my all time favorite Wonder songs. This intimate and sensitive rendition stayed with me all night, and was a wonderful closer on a show. "Signed, Sealed Delivered: The Stevie Wonder Experience" runs through March 12 at rthe Mercury Theater.

Caryl Churchill’s ‘Fen’ is a tragic love story laid out against a complicated backdrop. Set in the 1980s, we meet Val (Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel), a mother of two, who wants to leave her husband because she has fallen for another man, Frank (Alex Goodrich). She planned for them to take her children and run away to London, but Frank won’t go, so she settles for moving in with him.

But Val’s husband will neither divorce her, nor surrender the children to her. She must return to him to be with them. Equally, Val cannot live without Frank. Betwixt these irreconcilable poles, Val unhappily lives, and the dismal pallor of her internal conflicts settles over the two lovers like a dark cloud.

The playwright strips the passion from this ill-fated romance, giving us a utilitarian core by which to examine the oppressive constraints, grounded in economics, Churchill seems to say, under which women labor with futility to find fulfilling lives.

Val charges through the play seeking some way to come to shed the unhappiness. She meets other women who cope or compensate by several means - religion, drink, cruelty - and none of these ways work for her. So she just suffers, and it is Frank’s unhappy lot to be her partner in it.

The love story is a bit like Lady Chatterly’s Lover, whose aristocratic heroine sacrificed all to live happily ever after with her working-class paramour. Unlike the well-heeled Lady Chatterley, Val’s attempts to find happiness in her love are thwarted by circumstances, and she can find no solace.

The other dimension to ‘Fen’ is the succinct and searing portrait of a very dark world. Val and Frank are among a populace of poorly paid tenant farmers working under oppressive overseers in the Fenland, a fertile reclaimed coastal marshland in the east of England. Locals harbor resentments from generations of feeling exploited by profit-seeking landowners. 

Once a paradise where people lived off the land and fishing, the Fenland is a dismal place where dreams die, or never are born, a place of hopelessness. The play gives us a succinct portrait of the increasingly impersonal nature of the landowners, as local farms and the estates of gentry alike are snapped up by ever-larger global agri-businesses. It is in the exploration of these aspects of the Fenland that Churchill's immense skills as a wordsmith and playwright shine. It is why she is regarded as a pre-eminent English playwright - recalling 'A Number' at Writers Theatre still gives me chills -  and the chance to see a serious presentation of any of Churchill's works is not to be missed. 

Churchill’s script has been given a fully realized production, with a beautifully constructed set (Scenic Design by Collette Pollard) dominated by rows of potato fields, the stage big enough for a full-sized tractor to roll through. Director Vanessa Stalling orchestrates excellent performances from a sprawling roster of 22 characters, played by just six actors, as is the playwright's intent. Yet there is no confusion for the audience as actors reappear, playing as many as five characters, with distinctive costumes ((Izumi Inaba) and dialect (Eva Breneman). One key to understanding the action is to follow the character of Val, the only role played by Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel. Especially noteworthy are the performances of Alex Goodrich - the only male cast member - and Elizabeth Laidlaw.

Depending on your taste in theater, ‘Fen’ may seem bewildering, but it is entertaining nonetheless. While Churchill frames big ideas in the play, she is also a master at dialog, and the characters are colorful personalities engaged in intriguing repartee.'Fen' runs at Chicago’s Court Theatre through March 5.

‘Right to Be Forgotten ' is a play for our times, in contemporary language and a production at Raven Theatre that is laser-focused on an issue of our day—the inability of the average person to remove online content about themselves that is damaging or even life-threatening.

Directed by Sarah Gitenstein from a script by Sharyn Rothstein, this Chicago premiere features minimalist sets—a simple table and chairs evokes a coffee shop; a desk makes an office—and characters that are quickly recognizable types. The stage features a surround of screens on which social media posts and Google search results are displayed, apropos of the subject: the indelible stamp made by digital records of our lives.

Hapless 17-year-old nerd Derril Lark (Adam Shalzi), who for weeks dogged his first school crush, Jamila Tyler (Eve Salinsky), was called into the principal’s office and set straight. Mending his ways thereafter, his stalking behavior was documented on the ‘High School Girl’ blog, and he soon became a symbol of stalkers despite stopping his behavior.

A decade later Darril Lark is at work on his PhD in literature, and dreaming of settling into a serious relationship. Dating through match-up apps, he meets Sarita (Kelsey Elyse Rodriguez), and the two hit it off. But very soon he divulges to Sarita that his profile carries an assumed name, for his real name is infinitely attached to the hashtag #lurkinlark. The story of his brief high school misstep was subsumed into an onslaught of posts about other heinous aggressions suffered by girls and women everywhere, along with numerous related supportive posts, all of which appear when anyone googles his real name.

The story leads us through Darril's futile attempts to have his history cleared voluntarily by the search engine giant, using their appeals process. In desperation he pleads his case to a lawyer known in the field for battling internet behemoths, Marta Lee (Susaan Jamshidi), who takes his case. The plot now turns on the legal and eventually political jousting around his case, leading us through the twists and turns of a first-rate courtroom drama.

‘Right to Be Forgotten’ is an artful exploration of the dynamics of a fraught societal issue. Threaded neatly with exposition of the subject, we learn that Europeans have the right to be forgotten, and upon request can have their histories expunged from the web. Via the clashes among lawyers, politicos, and individuals online (who are both consumers and suppliers of content) the playwright leads the audience to understand the unresolved tension in the U.S. between freedom of expression, and the right to privacy, both enshrined in the Constitution.

In some respects this script is a series of vignettes, and characters and dialog are lean and purposeful, like a web search result. While not naturalistic—we get just what we need to know, both about the characters, and for scenes to advance the action—the whole of ‘Right to Be Forgotten’ works together to conjure our empathy for individual suffering. And it ends with a satisfying, even optimistic resolution. Running through March 26 at Raven Theatre in Chicago, ‘Right to Be Forgotten’ is unforgettable, and comes highly recommended.

*Extended through April 2nd!