Displaying items by tag: Ellie Duffey

Everyone encounters many crossroads in their lives, where they make a choice that determines the future…and many people live to regret it. That is where Dawn, the protagonist of Out Here, the new musical receiving its premiere at Court Theatre finds herself. Unlike most people, however, her realization does not come in a quiet moment of reflection, but just as she and her husband, Brian, and 15-year-old daughter, Cleo, have discovered that they have a band and an audience. It’s a lot, and the extremely metatheatrical musical reflects the chaos well. While there are drawbacks to the format, including the impossibility of fully developing most of the characters, the one-act musical by Leslie Buxbaum (book and lyrics) and Erin McKeown (music and lyrics), based on a concept by Buxbaum, McKeown and David J. Levin, is an entertaining and often moving reflection on personal choices and the people they affect.

Breaking the fourth wall is a hallmark of musical theater, and metatheatrical reflections on the musical being performed are also not uncommon these days, but Out Here takes these conceits to a new level. And that, arguably, is what makes it work so well. The characters must learn how to respond to the fact that they are living their lives in a musical as they navigate the changes in their family structure. The musical form proves to be a convenient way to condense the journey into an evening for the benefit of the audience that comes with it. It also provides a metaphor for the families’ (there are several) journeys from fumbling with new relationships and legal and geographic uncertainty to settling into the rhythms of new lives. The music reflects the jarring awkwardness of both the unexpected performance and the fallout of Dawn’s announcement that her “here” is no longer where she wants to be. As they get more comfortable with both performance and marital differences, the characters begin to exploit their access to a band—and apparently new-found guitar skills—to sing their own songs and share their emotions with each other and the audience. Buxbaum and McKeown toy with breaking the rules of musical theater, allowing characters to exit to the green room and the lobby and to directly address the band and audience. When a mediator is needed, he enters from the band and introduces potential shared custody options in song—a song that that Cleo recognizes from a friend’s experience (and wonders if she could get a puppy, too). Director Chay Yew wisely trusts the material and allows characters and audience to just keep up—no unnecessary scene changes or projections indicating changes in setting—making for a fast-paced exploration of relationships, time, and what’s important in a life. It’s occasionally messy or unfulfilled, but always compelling.

Photo of Alex Goodrich, Ellie Duffey, and Becca Ayers in Out Here at Court Theatre. Phot by Michael Brosilow.

Despite all the metatheatrical machinations, Out Here has an easy-to-follow plot and a singular protagonist. This is Dawn’s story, and the character uses this to her advantage, controlling both the narrative and the other characters as much as possible—though neither musicals nor reality allow for time travel, not that Dawn doesn’t try. While passionately pursuing the life that she wants (and simultaneously trying to figure out what that means), Dawn could quickly become grating, as she seems to be surrounded by good options and supportive friends and family, plus a band. Fortunately, Becca Ayers brings lightness and self-awareness to the role, as well as the ability to belt out power ballads and harmonize with her partners in multiple musical genres. Cliff Chamberlain as Brian plays to his strengths as a mostly non-musical actor—and his voice works well for the folksy guitar serenades that Brian chooses as his musical medium. He is charming and initially almost overly forbearing but grows stronger as he realizes that he has been given an opportunity that he is not willing to give up. As their daughter, Cleo, Ellie Duffey is charismatic and complicated, thrilled to have an audience, wanting to support her parents, but irritated that she is being left out of the decision-making. When she finally gets a song, it’s a propulsive punk declaration that is a necessary release. Bethany Thomas as Robin, Dawn’s ex-girlfriend who reluctantly reenters Dawn’s life, is uncompromising and vulnerable, wanting to rekindle their relationship, but justifiably apprehensive, and her dynamic voice is perfect to convey both her character’s surety about what she needs, and her fear that she might be disappointed again. Thomas’s comic timing also complements Robin’s sarcasm.

Alex Goodrich brings charm and flair to the most musical-theater role of the musical, Martin—he’s in the band! He’s the mediator! He’s the BFF! He can be anything you want him to be, keep the tempo and find the right accompaniment. Though not personally invested, his empathetic performance ingratiates him to both the family and the audience. Also, part of the familial rebuild are Gina, the woman Brian begins dating and Jett, Robin’s grown child. They, too, get swept up in the musical, but they do not have their own songs (maybe if there were a second act?), though they manage to hold their own in the musical/slash family drama they have entered. Amanda Pulcini brings a grounded humor and composure to the most awkward of situations Gina finds herself in. The fact that Jett’s entrance is often introduced with the ominous phrase “the plot thickens” is ironic, since Jett, as played by Z Mowry, is amiable and understanding, someone who seems like a good person to have as a friend, and usually offers sound advice that helps the plot along.

The musical and the cast get top-notch support from the designers and musicians. Co-orchestrator (with Erin McKeown), conductor, and keyboard player Christie Chiles Twillie backs up the vocals and underscores the book perfectly, keeping the tempos tight and the volume attuned to the singers and the script. Breon Arzell’s movement adds controlled chaos, matching the verbal humor and tension with apt but unintrusive movement. Scenic Designers Andrew Boyce and Lauren M. Nichols have created a musical-scale proscenium out of roof beams that mirror the moods of the home’s inhabitants, with a large but cozy interior and expansive outside. Sound designer Lee Fiskness integrates sound effects with the music to mesh the sounds of home with the beats of the band. The musicians make it seem possible to suddenly have a life become a musical, moving easily between styles, “acting” in response to the cast and swelling instrumental lines for onstage instruments.

Whether one likes Out Here will probably depend on one’s tolerance for stories of privileged people choosing between multiple good options surrounded by understanding friends and family. However, there is no denying that using a DIY musical to represent the struggles of a family trying to deal with change is a resonant metaphor, and the music captures some common challenges in fresh and thought-provoking ways. The book by Leslie Buxbaum explores the joy and tension of familial and other relationships with compassion and a great deal of humor. Erin McKeown’s music (with lyrics by Buxbaum and McKeown) allows the audience to get to know the characters and share moments from years of their lives in around 90 minutes (the magic of “theater time”). Chay Yew’s production is fast-paced, uncluttered, funny, moving, and thoughtful. Though Out Here wisely avoids trying to tie up all loose ends, it leaves the audience with a lot of good questions to ponder.

Out Here runs through May 10 at Court Theatre, Wed/Thurs/Fri at 7:30pm, Sat/Sun at 2:00pm & 7:30pm.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

A quick disclaimer for this review: Couch Penny Ensemble's Everybody, by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, is written with a caveat for anyone who dares to perform it. At the start of each performance, the actors are randomly assigned their roles by lottery, creating 120 possible cast combinations. In other words, the Everybody I saw will likely not be the Everybody you see. This structure demands something borderline absurd from its cast: each actor must memorize the entire script, remain flexible until the show closes, and sacrifice the comfort of traditional rehearsals.

What’s more astonishing is that the performance I saw was effectively unrehearsed yet never unprepared. It was incredible, and knowing it was done only once, just for this audience, is an experience you can’t get anywhere else. Rather than feeling unpolished or improvisational, the production felt confident, precise, and alive—a balance that speaks not only to the performers’ skills but also to the steady hand of director Greta Mae Geiser. It is the kind of theatrical gamble that only Jacobs-Jenkins would demand—and that only the right creative team could successfully meet.

For my production, the role of Everybody was played by Renzo Vincente. As the main character, Vincente was nothing short of phenomenal. His facial expressions, genuine tears, and overall emotional execution gave me goosebumps. There was an openness to his performance that made Everybody’s fear, confusion, and longing feel immediate and shared, and he truly left every part of himself on the stage, perfectly portraying everybody.

The rest of the cast – Caitlin Frazier, Jessica Posey, Ellie Duffey, and Dryden Zurawski, the other “Everybodies” – were randomly assigned one of four other roles, each encompassing three distinct characters. These twelve figures function less as traditional “characters” and more as personified concepts, broad, sometimes exaggerated reflections of the forces and relationships that shape everybody’s life. The actors who were not selected to play Everybody must step into their assigned parts with no prior expectation of fit. The result is an entertaining inconsistency that works entirely in the production’s favor: across the twelve roles, there ends up being a spontaneous mix of uncannily fitting performances alongside equally impressive but parodic ones. At any given moment, there is no way to predict who will enter the stage with manic sincerity or with hilariously inflated vanity, but it is clear throughout that each of the five actors possesses the range and control to deliver any role with intention and impact.

An unspecified role is not a prerequisite for a great performance, however, as Everybody also features four additional, standardly cast roles. Even with a fixed assignment, the demands of the show are formidable. The amount of memorization required for Usher (Jodianne Loyd), who establishes the world of the play with omniscient authority, is no easy task. A final shoutout goes to Zay Alexander, who not only delivered a personable performance as Death but also sang and played guitar hauntingly.

By rejecting conventional polish altogether, Everybody makes room for humor, heart, and an unmistakable dedication from its incredible cast.

Everybody is running at Greenhouse Theater Center through December 21st. Tickets are available at https://ci.ovationtix.com/36644/production/1258591.

Court Theatre’s world premiere of Berlin, adapted by Mickle Maher from Jason Lutes’ monumental graphic novel, is a breathtaking achievement. Directed with precision and deep sensitivity by Charles Newell, Berlin brings the chaos and beauty of Weimar-era Germany to stunning life on stage, rendered in an unforgettable 1930s noir style.

Lutes spent two decades crafting his sprawling graphic epic, and it’s clear Maher and Newell approached this adaptation with profound respect. The production’s black, white, and grey palette—designed by scenic designer John Culbert, lighting designer Keith Parham, and costume designer Jacqueline Firkins—immerses the audience in a city teetering on the edge of catastrophe. Every shadow and seam speak volumes, creating a world that feels both immediate and mythic.

Raven Whitley leads the ensemble as Marthe Muller, capturing a young woman’s vulnerability and fierce independence with magnetic grace. Tim Decker’s Kurt Severing carries the weary idealism of a journalist witnessing democracy’s slow death, while Ellie Duffey delivers a moving performance as the idealistic Silvia Braun. Elizabeth Laidlaw is harrowing as both Gudrun Braun and Adolf Hitler, offering a brutal glimpse into rising fascism.

Special mention must be made of Julia Rhoads’ fluid, expressive movement direction, which underscores the sense of a city swirling with ideas, danger, and desire. Sammi Grant’s expert vocal and dialect coaching ensures every character’s voice feels authentic—from Joseph Goebbels’ oily charisma (a chilling performance by Terry Bell) to the many Berliners struggling to survive an unraveling world.

Kate Collins, Mo Shipley, Jack Doherty, Guy Van Swearingen, Christopher Meister, Molly Hernandez, and Brandon Ruiter round out the exceptional ensemble, each carving out vivid portraits of citizens caught in history’s gears.

Watching Berlin today mirrors America’s turbulent political landscape with haunting clarity. From surging extremism to collapsing civil discourse, from journalism under siege to widening economic divides—these echoes ring too close to home. Berlin is more than historical; it is an urgent warning, a desperate plea, and a piercing call for vigilance.

Newell’s production reminds us that civilizations don’t collapse with a bang—they decay slowly, invisibly. Each small compromise, each overlooked lie, each quiet injustice piles up until the ground gives way beneath us. By then, we’ve sealed our fate, having watched our undoing unfold in slow motion.

Court Theatre hasn’t merely adapted a graphic novel—they’ve unleashed a theatrical thunderbolt. Under Newell’s visionary direction, Berlin transforms into something rare and electric: a defining moment of Chicago theatre that will be talked about for years to come. In a time when we desperately need art that matters, Berlin delivers with a punch that leaves you breathless.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED                                                                                                                                                              

When: Extended through MAY 18TH

Where: Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis Ave.

Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes 15-minute intermission

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