Displaying items by tag: Owen Theatre

Based on the novel by Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao follows neurodivergent and perpetually lovelorn college student Oscar as he fixates on the fukú – a generational curse he believes has haunted his family’s love lives for decades. Oscar’s college roommate and his sister Lola by his side, the trio journeys to Santo Domingo, uncovering more about Oscar and Lola’s family history and the fukú than none of them bargained for.

At the heart of the story is the trio of Oscar (Lenin D’Anthony Izquierdo), Yunior (Kelvin Grullon), and Lola (Julissa Calderon), who are as messy, spirited, and loving as three college kids can be. Their chemistry feels genuinely lived-in: the easy humor, the sharp edges, the quiet loyalties. Their dynamic perfectly captures the complexities of chosen family, blurred boundaries, and sibling devotion, all while keeping the audience constantly laughing. 

While often sharp and funny, Oscar and Lola’s mother, Beli (Yohanna Florentino), delivers the production’s most devastating performance. She embodies the tension of someone trying – fiercely, desperately – to do right by her children, yet repeatedly falling short. Florentino’s performance is astonishingly intimate; even in a full theatre, she makes it feel as though her pain is being shared one-on-one with each audience member.

The show – especially in its first act – is funny, self-aware, and unabashedly camp. Although set among college-aged characters in the 1990s, Director Wendy Mateo has made the show feel timeless and accessible to audiences of all ages. The script incorporates a significant amount of Spanish, most often through colloquial phrases and biting insults, yet the cast’s physicality and clarity ensure that no translation is required to follow the emotional stakes. It’s a compelling reminder that audiences don’t need to speak Spanish to fully appreciate bilingual storytelling when the performances are this grounded.

Where the production occasionally stumbles is in its visual storytelling, particularly once the setting shifts to Santo Domingo. The scenic design’s abstract, college-forward aesthetic serves the first half well, but meshes less cohesively with the production’s second act shift into heightened spiritual and video game-inspired imagery. This evolution also introduces more disruptive set transitions – unlike the fluid, almost invisible shifts of Act One, several Act Two changes require full stops in the action, interrupting momentum and dampening the pacing. At its best, the projections and gaming motifs cleverly mirror Oscar’s inner grasp of reality and the story’s mythic foundation. At their weakest, however, they overtake the truly human stakes at the center of the narrative.

One moment in particular – a key story from Beli’s past – is partially rendered through animation and projection rather than live performance. Given the emotional precision already established onstage, the stylistic shift feels jarring and unintentionally distances the audience from what should be an intimate revelation. The production’s reliance on heightened, game-like aesthetics resurfaces in later confrontations as well, occasionally pushing character choices toward exaggeration at moments that call for gravity. The result is a tonal imbalance that slightly undercuts the weight of the story’s final turns.

While the stage adaptation diverges in notable ways from the novel, the production stands strongest when viewed as its own interpretation rather than a strict retelling. That said, the emotional core of Oscar’s story remains intact and, by the final moments, the theatre is silent enough to hear a pin drop – a testament to the emotional weight the cast ultimately earns.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is running in The Goodman’s Owen Theatre through April 12th. Tickets are available at https://www.goodmantheatre.org/show/the-brief-wondrous-life-of-oscar-wao/.

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

Before I set foot in the Goodman’s Owen Theatre to see the Chicago premier of Sarah DeLappe’s acclaimed play The Wolves, I tried not to read or hear or learn too much about it. I knew it had been a finalist for a Pulitzer, and won other awards. I knew it was about a girls’ high school soccer team. And that was about it.

The first tidbit informed my own expectations – this ought to be good, I figured. And the second informed who I’d bring along – my own 14-year-old soccer-playing daughter. I was excited that the subject matter might excite her, sure, but was more intent on using her as a litmus test for not just the play’s quality, but its authenticity. And boy, did we both find that it delivered on both counts.

While the play’s 20-something playwright and cast might seem like whippersnappers to an old dude like me, their ilk are positively elderly to a teen. After the play, my daughter admitted she’d been worried that the presentation would be the usual – what old people think young life is like these days. But The Wolves portrayed young life – the young life of today, of yesterday, of time eternal – in a way both dad and daughter found realistic. That is, the play portrayed life realistically.

Sarah DeLappe’s script sets up this portrayal like a champ. After the play, I read that DeLappe was influenced by old war movies – the kind where a gang of guys gain personal revelations in the face of greater situations – and I can see that. I also sensed the influence of 12 Angry Men or Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs – art that finds greater truths by plopping a disparate troupe of characters into a script. But instead of machine guns and military rations, instead of a jury room or a bank heist, the troupe on the Goodman’s stage was armed with shin guards and phones and backpacks and headbands. But the idea was the same – flesh out a story by fleshing out the people telling it. DeLappe tells her story through her girls’ banter as they stretch and warmup before a series of soccer games. Her gift for said banter is something else – making it sound like how not just girls talk, but how people talk, as the characters flit from discussions of world events to feminine products, from hopes and dreams for the future to the sex and sexuality that seems so pressing in their present. Talk goes from Pol Pot to periods, from weirdoes who live in “yogurts” to punk rock chicks who lick coffeehouse microphones. The stuff real people talk about. And how real people talk about that stuff.

And, more than any play I can remember, director Vanessa Stalling’s production of a team shows it takes a team to pull it off. First off, the cast is great. Those grown-up ladies onstage could totally, like, pass as a gaggle of teen girls. And that’s not to belittle them or the material they’re working with. Most likely because I’m a nerd, myself, I connected with Sarah Price’s neurotic know-it-all, #11 (yes, the characters are only identified by jersey number, further enforcing the team concept, and further highlighting how both script and cast breathe life into these nameless roles). As the team captain, #25, Isa Arciniegas is – to continue the earlier war motif – Pattonesque in a Napoleanic package. Cydney Moody’s #8 is the moody one. Angela Alise’s #00 is the lonely goalkeeper. Erin O’Shea is the red-headed, homeschooled, yogurt-livin’ outsider (think Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls, except with mad ball-handling skills). And the heart and soul of the team are Natalie Joyce and Aurora Real de Asua. Joyce’s #7 has the mouth of a sailor but the problems and insecurities of a girl, while #14 is the ego to 7’s adolescent id. The teammates kick around conversations as feverishly and randomly as they do their soccer balls, again making it sound not just like how high school girls talk, but how people interact.

The teamwork on display does not stop with the script and its interpreters, however. Collette Pollard’s set gave this soccer dad, who’s spent too much time hanging out at fields both outdoors and under domes, flashbacks. Lighting by Keith Parham is spot on, as are the musical choices by sound designer Mikhail Fiksel, both providing energy and intensity that match the actors’.

And so, this whole team comes together to not just tell a story of young girls, but of people. What starts as dissonant and diverse digressions between types and tropes turns into a realistic back-and-forth you’d hear not just on the field or in the mall or in a classroom, but at work, on the train, in the checkout line, on the street. Given great material to work with, the cast and crew of the Goodman Theatre’s production of Sarah DeLappe’s The Wolves give us something that’s funny, sad, uncomfortable, cute, ugly, and beautiful – that is, art that pulls off the rare feat of feeling like real life. And, like, my teen daughter seconds that!

*Extended through March 18th