Displaying items by tag: Kirsten Greenidge

Kirsten Greenidge’s Morning, Noon & Night, currently receiving its Midwestern premiere at Shattered Globe Theatre, is an ambitious, mind-bending exploration of the “new normal” in post-pandemic America. Greenidge, a playwright unafraid of tonal hybridity, situates her story at the uneasy intersection of middle-class and magical realism. Under AmBer Montgomery’s direction, the production attempts to navigate the landscape of family connection, digital surveillance, and the psychic fragmentation wrought by living life through digital screens.

The play unfolds over the course of a single day in the life of Mia, a work-from-home mother teetering on the edge of burnout. Kristin E. Ellis anchors the production with a performance that captures both the brittle humor and simmering desperation of a woman expected to hold everything together. Her Mia is perpetually toggling—between Zoom meetings and grocery lists, between maternal patience and private panic. Ellis embodies the quiet terror of a generation of women asked to endure the unendurable with a smile.

Opposite her, Emefa Dzodzomenyo gives Dailyn a restless, electric presence. As the hyper-aware Gen Z daughter oscillating between existential dread and a yearning for authentic connection, Dzodzomenyo resists caricature. Her Dailyn is sharp, wounded, and achingly perceptive—someone who has inherited not only climate anxiety and algorithmic pressure but also the emotional residue of her mother’s exhaustion.

The supporting cast deepens the sense of a household under strain. Christina Gorman’s Heather, Mia’s friend and confidant, functions as both comic relief and quiet warning sign—her lingering pandemic anxieties and conspiratorial asides suggest how prolonged fear can harden into identity. Hannah Antman and Soren Jimmie Williams lend a jittery immediacy to Nat and Chloe, capturing the skittish vulnerability of teens shaped by social media’s relentless gaze. That said, both performers read slightly younger than I imagined the characters to be, which subtly shifts the dynamic; their portrayals emphasize innocence and volatility over the more self-aware cynicism often associated with girls of that age.

The production’s most striking presence is Leslie Ann Sheppard as Miss Candice, a “Donna Reed  - Father Knows Best” AI-generated avatar of curated perfection who steps out of the algorithm and into the family’s living room. Sheppard’s performance is chilling in its serenity. With a voice that soothes and a gaze that scans, Miss Candice represents not simply technology but the seductive promise of optimized living—an influencer deity promising order amid chaos. Her presence pushes the play from realism into something more speculative, even dystopian.

Jackie Fox’s set and lighting design effectively ground the story in its post-pandemic malaise. The living room, cluttered yet aspirational, feels very lived-in and slightly unraveling. The use of projections is particularly striking; at times the audience feels as though it is peering through a phone screen. Notifications flicker, curated images intrude, and the boundary between the digital and the tangible dissolves. The design serves as a digital mirror—reflecting how social media refracts reality rather than simply documenting it.

Yet for all its thematic ambition, the production occasionally exposes a disconnect between script and staging. Greenidge clearly has much to say about female rage, consumerism, intergenerational trauma, and the violence of constant connectivity. However, Montgomery’s direction seems to engage these ideas primarily at a surface level, with moments of genuine thematic revelation passing too quickly to fully resonate. The result can feel unintentionally algorithmic—significant insights obscured beneath repetitive beats.

Moreover, despite the performances and the evocative design, the stakes never quite rise to meet the play’s expansive conceptual ambitions. Whether this disconnect stems from the script, or the direction is difficult to determine, but the result is the same: the looming threat of digital colonization and familial fracture hover suggestively rather than landing with decisive impact. The danger feels atmospheric instead of urgent, diffuse rather than devastating.

Morning, Noon & Night offers a portrait of contemporary anxiety, capturing the low-grade dread of a culture caught between the longing for authentic connections and the seductive pull of curated isolation. Like the screens it interrogates, the play pulses and glitches—at times mesmerizing, at times disquieting—but always insistently present, morning, noon & night.

RECOMMENDED

When: through March 28th

Where: Theater Wit, 1229 W Belmont Ave, Chicago, IL 60657

Running Time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets:  $20  -  $60

773-770-0333

www.sgtheatre.org/season-35/morning-noon-night

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