Displaying items by tag: Sandra Marquez

There are always two sides to every story. The writer or playwright will tell a story offering key details and scenes that move the story forward in the way that leads the audience to a message or conclusion the writer or playwright want to convey. The difficulty of any story writing, in any form, is what to include or what to exclude in your story. That is something that can be controlled. The other difficulty is trying to convey a message or point to your audience, one you want them to walk away with, chew on, think about. This difficulty is completely out of the writer’s control. Attempting to tell two sides of the same story adds a level of complexity for the writer and the audience and it’s not an easy feat to pull it off. The Birth of The Pill takes aims at just this style of storytelling, the world premiere play now playing at Timeline Theatre.

In the mid‑20th century, a radical dream begins to take shape: a simple pill that would give women full control over their reproductive futures. Championing this groundbreaking idea are feminist activist Margaret Sanger, scientist Gregory Pincus, gynecologist John Rock, and philanthropist Katharine McCormick—visionaries working under intense secrecy amid legal, scientific, and religious roadblocks. Meanwhile, in Puerto Rico, clinical trials raise ethical questions, as the lives and bodies of women like Ramona Delgado are exploited in the quest for scientific advancement. Commissioned and developed by TimeLine and based on the book by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jonathan Eig (King: A Life), the world premiere of The Birth of The Pill explores the transformative power of vision and invention, alongside the costs of pursuing both by any means necessary.

The Birth of the Pill is not a lift and shift theatre adaptation of the book of the same name. The book was written as a non-fiction historical account of how “The Pill” came to fruition. It is clinical, literal, factual. It recounts the stories of the women (Sanger and McCormick) who spearheaded the campaign to develop The Pill on behalf of women everywhere. But The Birth of The Pill, like many historical accounts, does not discuss the lives of the very real, very lost voices of the very real women whose lives were forever changed and affected by the Trials conducted in Puerto Rico. Those women’s stories was a different story altogether, one the book’s author did not aim to tell. It wasn’t an intentional dismissal of the storyline, but a concurrent one, a differing viewpoint, a second side to the story.

The cast of "The Birth of the Pill" at TimeLine Theatre Company.

The play, written by playwright Jessica Huang and directed by Sandra Marquez, aims to give that second storyline a voice, the story of the Puerto Rican women who were tested and experimented on in pursuit of this revolutionary form of birth control. The key actors in this play include Janet Ulrich Brooks as Margaret Sanger, María Victoria Martínez as Ramona Delgado, Mitchel J. Fain as Goody Pincus, and Mary Beth Fisher as Katharine McCormick. Through the narration of Ramona Delgado we are guided through history alongside Margaret Sanger from her post in the first ever Planned Parenthood in Brooklyn, NY, through the funding, research, and later development of The Pill. While well intentioned, the play takes a considerable detour from its source material at the critical point of human trials to examine that second storyline, namely, the toll and morality of human Trials. There is a poignant moment between the narrator and Sanger wherein a philosophical question is posed: Given everything you know, the impact it had, would you do anything differently? That is where this play should have ended.

The character of Delgado is a valiant attempt to write the women who trialed The Pill into the story of The Birth of the Pill but it’s a completely different perspective and is not given its due. Perhaps that was the intention of the playwright. Throughout the play, the main character, our narrator, is sidelined, dismissed, overlooked, even silenced. It’s a subtle and artistic representation of how the trial participants were treated. At a key point in the play we move away from the historical retelling of The Birth of the Pill, abruptly changing narratives. The light and humorous narration takes a sharp turnaround to become one with a modern viewpoint. It criticized the ethical and moral viewpoints of the main characters, their actions, their decisions, diverging away from the source material. Published in 2014, the book could not have accounted for or discussed the cultural, social, and moral impacts the 2020s had on the story of The Pill. I don’t believe the author was ill-intended by not accounting for the lives of the trial participants, or examining the moral and despicable acts committed in that state. The Birth of The Pill tries to rectify and almost apologize for this unintentional oversight leaving the audience with a hurried and heavy-handed message that leaves you questioning: which story was the play trying to tell? The story of the birth of the pill or that of the women who were tested on? It’s not the same story, it’s the second side to the same story.

Jonathan Eig (Mitchell J. Fain, left) and Ramona Delgado (María Victoria Martínez, right) discuss the complexities of historical narratives.

Not every play can pull off the duality of storytelling, where two differing viewpoints are given the stage. The Birth of the Pill is a story worthy of telling and seeing. It was humorous, moving, challenging, and overall compelling. It can stand on its own, with a simple yet complex ending on a philosophical dilemma. It deserves to be told on its own, without a modern, critical perspective and narrative. Then there is the different viewpoint. Another side to the same story that deserves its own time, its own space, unhurried, told in full, with all the vitriol and venom many of the acts committed on the path to progress deserve. The Birth of the Pill play inadvertently, or possibly intentionally, provided a foundation and springboard for a new story to come to light, one that given its own voice, time, and space, would only add to the power of the original story. There are two sides to every story. This particular story deserves both to be heard, just not at the same time.

The Birth of the Pill Runs through October 4, 2026, at TimeLine Theatre (5035 N. Broadway, Chicago). Set you calendar reminders and be sure to get your tickets at https://timelinetheatre.com/events/birth-pill/.

*Extended through October 11th!

We all have tough days at work, but when your job is in the Oval Office, a bad day at work could be trouble for the entire country. In Steppenwolf’s regional premiere of ‘POTUS or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive’ by Selina Fillinger, an all-star female cast brings comedy and hijinks to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Steppenwolf Artistic director Audrey Francis directs this new play hot off its recent Broadway run with a cast of familiar Steppenwolf favorites. The chemistry between these seven performers is worth the admission price alone. Not to mention Selina Fillinger’s hilariously biting script. If you’re a fan of HBO’s ‘VEEP’, you’ll love these stressed out, foul-mouthed, political badasses.

Sandra Marquez plays Harriet, the chief of staff for a Trump-like president. Her day is unsettled after the president publicly refers to his wife in derogatory terms. On damage control is press secretary Jean (Karen Rodriguez), and tightly-wound aid Stephanie (Caroline Neff). Not only do they have to spin the narrative, but they also have to wrangle zany first lady, Margaret (Karen Aldridge). Take all of this and add in the president’s surprise pregnant girlfriend Dusty (Chloe Baldwin) and his pardon-seeking, ex-con sister Bernadette (Meighan Gerachis), and you’ve got yourself a first-class mess.  

Borrowing elements from traditional farce comedy, ‘POTUS’ is a whacky, madcap satire of just an average day at the White House. Though Fillinger likely wrote this play during the Trump administration, there’s a lot of universal and fair criticism that ultimately begs the question, couldn’t a woman do this job better?

After White House journalist Chris (Celeste M. Cooper) accidentally injures the president, all hell breaks loose. Even though most of the satire of the president is done so in reference to Trump, the ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ theme in the second act underscores how much of our political machine is done by staffers rather than politicians themselves. It also points to the grizzly specter of age that hangs over many of our most influential Washington leaders.

It's rare to hear so many audience members audibly snap and respond with vocal enthusiasm, but the combination of strong casting, great script and near perfect direction make this a show that immediately resonates with people. While its themes are overtly feminist, there’s something for everyone. It’s a workplace comedy after all, and many of us know trouble of working in a chaotic environment.

As another presidential election year quickly approaches, plays like ‘POTUS’ ask us to demand more of our elected officials. Within a slapstick comedy, Fillinger poses some deep questions, specifically, “who’s running this show?” In her play it seems like nobody is really driving the car, so much as they’re just making sure it doesn’t catch on fire. When an administration just moves from controversy to the next, it makes you wonder is any progress being made?

Through December 10 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650

*Extended through December 17th

“I’m a better version of myself, when I’m by myself,” says Nora in Lucas Hnath’s sequel to Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. The play takes place some fifteen years after her departure at the end of the original play. Steppenwolf is one of the first regional theaters to revive the 2017 Broadway blockbuster, which starred Steppenwolf ensemble member Laurie Metcalf. Both Hnath and Metcalf were nominated for Tony awards for the play, Metcalf taking home the Best Actress award.

With the exception of ‘Grease 2’, sequels are rarely good. That said, it’s an interesting thing when done in theatre. In recent years we’ve seen a sequel to ‘Hamlet’, ‘The Crucible’ and now Ibsen’s feminist drama ‘A Doll’s House’. Before groaning, “but they’re ruining it!” consider that Hnath’s script stands alone and is probably closer to a satire than a direct sequel. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ picks up at the very door Nora slams at the end of Ibsen’s play. It is fifteen years later, and she comes back with a favor to ask of her ex-husband. What follows is a humorous manifesto in defense of being single. And no, you don’t need to remember the fine points of Ibsen’s original to enjoy Hnath’s updated version.

Sadly, Laurie Metcalf is not joining this revival but that’s just fine because ensemble member Sandra Marquez is well suited for the role. It’s a short play, just barely hitting the 90-minute mark, but in that time there’s a perfect banter between Nora and her former governess Anne-Marie, played by the indelible Barbara E. Robertson. Marquez spends every moment of the play on stage and that often includes swaths of monologue. In a costume designed by Izumi Inaba, her performance is captivating. She nails all the jokes and maybe even finds new humor in the script. Though short, her scene with Celeste M Cooper is ripe with tension. Cooper plays her estranged daughter with a cool and mysterious sense of doublespeak.

If a ‘A Doll’s House’ is about the suffocation of marriage, then ‘Part 2’ is more of a denunciation of pairing off in general. In fact, Nora mentions that you’re not marrying the person you’ll end up with, you’re marrying who they are right now. And people change. This observation alone is somewhat disturbing but truly encapsulates the message Hnath is getting at. The play ends abruptly but the point is made. Maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, but like Marquez’ performance, it takes a lot of strength to stand on one’s own.

Director Robn Witt’s vision for this show is cool. We would imagine that anything in the world of Ibsen would be typical high production cost period piece. Witt strips it down for a minimal approach, nearly the only color is the bright yellow door Nora comes in, and then out of again. The costumes suggest period, but the dialogue is exceptionally modern. Though there are Voss water bottles on stage, we never forget what time period we are in. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ at Steppenwolf is a near perfect revival that doesn’t go in for a carbon copy of the Broadway production. A major difference is that there’s on-stage seating for an even more intimate look. A good example of why it’s usually best to skip the national tour if you live in Chicago.

Through March 17 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

La Ruta accomplishes an impossible feat: drawing a luminous theater experience from a horrific factual account. This premier at the Steppenwolf tells the tale of the scores of young women who have been kidnapped and murdered near Juarez over several decades.

And yet, it is an uplifting and inspiring show. Playwright Isaac Gomez approaches the story by relating the emotional toll these murders have taken on the mothers and families of these young women, who board la ruta, the bus line to the U.S.-owned maquiladoras border factories. Some of these women never return.

It is a startling achievement that Gomez and director Sandra Marquez can present this tale in an entrancing manner, through song and stagecraft, drawing us close so that we will not flee from hearing of an atrocity that, even as it continues, is in danger of being forgotten.

Since 1993 hundreds of grisly murders have taken place of young Mexican women working near Juarez. Peculiar patterns have emerged in these murders, known as feminicidos, and which are monitored by Amnesty International and other groups: slender young women are kidnapped, sexually violated, tortured, then abandoned in the desert or in garbage dumps. These murders have scandalized the world.

La Ruta relates some of this, and depicts the social and emotional toll it is taking in Juarez, in the province of Chihuaha from which many of the women originate, and throughout Mexico. But Gomez and director Marquez adeptly mix music, comedic and tender emotional moments, and political drama, against the gut-wrenching backdrop of this acrid history.

La Ruta opens on what appears to be a lovely evening streetscape, and we hear the transcendentally beautiful voice of Desamaya (Laura Crotte). She is singing an enchanting ancient Mexican fable of La Bruja – The Witch – who as legend holds it steals little children and sucks out their souls – foreshadowing the drama to come. On a closer look we see a dead tree, and not moonlight, but the vapid glare of a streetlamp.

The next morning a mother sees her daughter to the stop for La Ruta, and she will head to the garment factory. Once there, a music plays a central role on the factory floor. The workers scan the dial for pop songs to support their repetitive work, in one scene settling on Son Del Obrero – an upbeat tune perfectly synchronized to the choreographed movements of the women at their sewing machines, singing along as they push work through. We witness the aspirations of the young women hoping for better life through the factory floor.

Gomez also gives us endearing scenes – a young newbie worker Brenda (Cher Alvarez) is shown the ropes by Ivonne (Karen Rodriguez). And later, Ivonne coaches Brenda on how to talk to boys – a delightful scene.

Charin Alvarez is at the top of her game as Marisela, a grieving mother turned political activist who leads others to march to the state capital. She has channeled her grief into action.

And in one of the most poignant scenes in this or any play, Marisela coaxes another mother to join her on the march to Chihuaha. But that mother cannot come, because doing so would mean describing her daughter as being among the dead. She is not ready to acknowledge her daughter is permanently missing. Because her body has not been found, this mother clings to the hope she is alive. Marisela does not push her beyond what she can accept. It is hard not to be moved. 

As the play concludes, the audience rises as one for an ovation. It is well deserved. La Ruta is highly recommended, and runs through January 27 at Steppenwolf Theatre.

Call your mother seems like the resounding theme of Jen Silverman’s new play ‘The Roommate ‘now running at Steppenwolf. Directed by famed television and stage actress Phylicia Rashad, this new play explores the often overlooked lives of women over a certain age.

Sharon (Sandra Marquez) is a middle-aged woman living alone in a big house in Iowa. Her simple life is turned upside down when a mysterious new roommate, Robyn (Ora Jones), from the Bronx moves in. Though Robyn is careful not to answer all of Sharon’s questions, she helps get Sharon out of her shell. While the play is mostly a sit-com style comedy, it goes deep on how women in their 50s can sometimes become invisible to even their own children.

The play is well written and very funny, but it’s the two actresses that really make this. Marquez and Ora Jones are both ensemble at Steppenwolf and it’s a rare treat to see two such accomplished actresses show their comedic skills in this light-hearted comedy. Marquez’s performance is transformative from start to finish. Her delivery and timing is pure midwestern homemaker, reminding us all of our own mothers just a little bit. Her character’s naivety about the world at large is endearing. Ora Jones plays the cool talking roommate Robyn. Jones has a lot of stage presence. There’s something both intimidating and soothing about her performance. The play’s revelations should make her character seem untrustworthy but the chemistry between her and Marquez makes you questions whether someone’s past is who they are today.

Phylicia Rashad is best known for her role as Claire Huxtable on the Cosby Show. She’s wise to distance herself from that now. Since then she’s appeared on Broadway and has moved on to directing. Rashad knows sit-com. She also seems to have a real understanding of these two characters. This show could have easily played for the “shock the old lady” trope, but instead there’s a real heart at the core of this new play. It may not change the world, but it’s a play that makes an observation about what happens to our moms when we grow up and fly the nest.

Through August 5 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

As Chekov supposedly once said, if you bring a gun out in act one, it better go off by act three. Raul Castillo’s new play for Teatro Vista, ‘Between You, Me and the Lampshade’ goes for a metaphoric interpretation of the old rule.

The play starts off with a rush of adrenaline as a mysteriously battered young woman (Aysette Munoz) breaks into the trailer home of Jesse (Sandra Marquez). Jesse stands armed with a rifle, and from there a riveting dialog about race, immigration and love unfolds over 90 minutes.

Castillo’s play is largely plot-driven in an old school kinda way, but he raises it from the pot-boiler genre with the poetic yearnings of a Mexican couple stuck between two countries and on the run from border patrol. Castillo also goes on to comment on the inter-minority caste system. Jesse though Latina, denies her home intruder from calling her senorita or speaking Spanish. She even goes on to use racial slurs. The characters’ use of the vernacular and a plethora of double-negatives subtly provide a very realistic atmosphere of life in southern Texas.

The play isn’t without its lightness. A touching scene between Jesse’s teenage son Woody (Tommy Rivera-Vega) and his gamer, cyber pal K-Ten (Bryce Gangel) hits on issues of loneliness and the feeling of being misunderstood even in a place where everyone speaks the same language. When the cyber pal actually shows up in real life, a romantic current emerges.

The cast works well together under the direction of Ricardo Gutierrez. Bryce Gangel’s self-involved and blissfully unaware character brings with her most of the show’s comedy.  Sandra Marquez is very sure of herself in the role of a flailing mother and reluctant aid, with authentic reactions that are at times abrasive, which is to say very human. Ayssette Munoz as a woman on the run makes careful choices, without veering into melodrama. While this is not yet a perfect play, Raul Castillo’s undoubtedly a talented playwright with the foundation of a provocative play that calls for immigration reform. 

Through May 10^th - Teatro Vista at Victory Gardens Theatre. 2433 N Lincoln Ave. 773-871-3000