Displaying items by tag: Jack Magaw

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

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

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

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

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

The Diary of Anne Frank - Writers Theatre

According to legend, when Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich's Pulitzer Prize winning stage adaptation made its German premiere, audiences sat in a state of silent shock after the play ended. Nearly sixty years, countless productions, several films and hundreds of books about Anne Frank and the secret annex have made this story one of the most accessible pieces of Holocaust literature. In 1997, Wendy Kesselman adapted the original script for a Broadway revival that heightens intensity and includes more reference to the family's Jewish faith and to Anne's burgeoning sexuality.

Under the suburb direction of Kimberly Senior, Writers Theatre's production of Kesselman's "The Diary of Anne Frank" is as intimate as a story of this nature must be. Inventive staging immediately places the audience within the confines of the attic, fantastically designed by Jack Magaw. The Writers Theatre book store space is already intimate enough, but what Magaw has done to replicate the secret annex is nothing short of theatre magic. The tight quarters of this set paired with the vibrancy of the cast create an atmosphere in which emotional reaction is impossible to avoid.

What Senior extracts from her actors is a perfect storm of the best and the worst of humanity backed into a corner, in which the stakes really are life and death. Heidi Kettenring has the challenge of turning a mostly unlikeable character, Mrs. van Daan, into one of the show's strongest assets.  Kettenring balances warmth and tension in moments so electrifying that its current is contagious.

The title role is played by fourteen-year-old Sophie Thatcher who is the actual age of Anne Frank at the time of her internment. Thatcher plays the role with such surprising honesty and eloquence for an actress of her age. All her choices seem based on genuine instinct rather than what other historical documents tell us about the person Anne Frank was.

Despite the fact that everyone going into this play knows the tragic ending, and the unfortunate irony that Europe was liberated just a few months after their betrayal, it's easy to catch the show's infectious message of hope. The reason why this story lingers in our minds throughout the generations is its optimism. That no matter how dire the circumstances, faith in the good of people is what keeps the world in balance even when all seems lost.

The Diary of Anne Frank at Writers Theatre. 664 Vernon Ave, Glencoe. 847-242-6000. Through June 28th.