There was a particular kind of magic to seeing a movie outside when I was a kid in 1970s Chicago - a feeling that lived somewhere between summer air and pure possibility. Back then, drive-ins still dotted the map, and a couple sat right at the city’s edge: the Bel Air Drive-In in Cicero and the Harlem Outdoor Theater at Harlem and Irving in Norridge, each glowing like its own little universe. An evening at either of them felt bigger than the movie itself - the slow parade of cars, the metal speakers crackling to life, the giant screen lighting up the sky as if it were waking the stars. Those memories stayed with me long after drive-ins began to disappear nationwide, as owners sold their land for residential and commercial development, leaving only a small fraction of drive-in theaters still standing.

As the years went by, the drive‑ins of my childhood faded into a soft, far‑off memory, the kind that settles into the back of your mind and stays there untouched. So, when I visited the McHenry Outdoor Theater for the first time in 2017, I wasn’t chasing nostalgia so much as testing whether that old spark still existed. It did - and then some. The drive from Chicago isn’t terribly long, and it’s surprisingly scenic - the kind of easy stretch where you throw on your favorite true crime podcast, settle in, and enjoy the ride. We make regular weekend trips from Chicago to McHenry now, and every visit feels like a small gift. If you already live nearby, what a bonus - you’re even closer to one of the last places where that childhood wonder still flickers to life every time the projector starts to glow.

The sunset sets the stage, the screen takes it from there. Photos by Ken Payne.

Why Write About a Drive-In on a Theatre and Dance Site?

Even though McHenry Outdoor Theater sits outside the world of proscenium arches and sprung floor studios, it belongs in the same constellation of live, communal storytelling that theatre and dance celebrate. A drive-in may swap footlights for headlights and velvet seats for lawn chairs, but the heart of the experience is strikingly similar: people gathering in a shared space, settling in as dusk falls, and giving themselves over to a story unfolding on a giant stage. There’s ritual, anticipation, atmosphere - the same ingredients that make live performance feel alive. It’s another place where art meets audience in real time, where community forms in the dark, and where the night itself becomes part of the show.

The Fun Before the Movie Starts

Going to the McHenry Outdoor Theater isn’t just catching a movie - it’s giving yourself over to an entire summer evening. McHenry generally opens its gates about two hours before showtime, which means there’s plenty of room for the night to breathe and unfold. Families and friend groups spill into the grassy areas, tossing frisbees, batting birdies, kicking soccer balls, or setting up little picnic spots. Kids chase bubbles, play tag, or run around in that wide-open space that feels tailor-made for burning off energy. Solo guests wander the property, stretch out in camp chairs with a book, snap sunset photos, or just enjoy the easy rhythm of people arriving. Some folks grab dinner from the concession stand, others unpack coolers and fold-out tables, turning their parking spot into a tiny outdoor dining room. By the time the screen flickers to life, you’ve already had a full evening - the movie becomes the final chapter.

Double Features, Nostalgic Snacks, and Throwback Magic

McHenry keeps the classic drive-in rhythm alive with two features every night, separated by an intermission that always includes a throwback countdown cartoon - you know the one, with dancing popsicles and ice cream bars, hot dogs doing circus tricks, and cheerful little characters racing toward the concession doors every time the countdown number drops. It’s a charming time capsule that sets the countdown and taps straight into the old-school drive-in joy that’s defined summer nights for generations. The concession stand only adds to the retro charm, serving old-time candies, brats, burgers, pizza, chicken sandwiches, nachos, soft drinks, and what might honestly be the best popcorn around.

A rainbow beyong the vintage concession stand. Photo courtesy McHenry Outdoor Theater. The McHenry Outdoor Theater Hearse. Photo by Ken Payne. 

Seven Days All Summer / Fridays & Saturdays in the Extended Season

McHenry is open seven days a week from Memorial Day through mid‑August, giving guests the freedom to enjoy the grounds whenever the mood strikes. They offer a season pass that covers one carload for the entire year - and includes a free bucket of popcorn every visit - for around $300. Depending on how many people you bring, it can pay for itself in just a handful of trips. During the full summer season, there’s also $15 carload night every Tuesday and Thursday, and $2 hot dog night every Sunday. And unlike most Midwest drive‑ins that shut down for half the year, McHenry opens its season in mid‑March or early April and keeps the movies going almost to Christmas. Outside of those peak summer months, the drive‑in remains a reliable weekend destination, operating on Fridays and Saturdays.

Merchandise and Keepsakes

Beyond the food and films, McHenry has built a small but thoughtful selection of drive-in merchandise that fans love to browse between features. Blankets, baseball hats, hoodies, and tees line the shelves, each one stamped with the McHenry Outdoor Theater logo - the kind of keepsakes that let people take a little piece of the night home with them. It’s all part of the atmosphere: a place where the movies, the memories, and even the merch feel like they belong to the same warm tradition.

Speakers, Sound, and Film Lineup

While the original external speakers on poles still stand throughout the lot, they’re mostly aesthetic now - a nostalgic nod to the past. Today, the theater uses powerful external speakers that radiate sound across the grounds, giving the whole place a warm, ambient audio bed. To actually pick up the movie’s soundtrack, you tune your car radio to the FM station or bring (or rent) wireless FM speakers for a cleaner, fuller boost. And the film lineup is its own kind of magic: a mix of new releases and beloved throwbacks like Jaws, Grease, The Goonies, American Graffiti, and Raiders of the Lost Ark. At McHenry, the movies fold into the atmosphere of the night.

Charlie Hustle - Drive-In dog extraordinaire. Summer fun (left) and cuddling up in the car during a winter feature. Photos by Ken Payne.

Bring the Dog - They’re Part of the Experience

Dogs aren’t just allowed at McHenry - they’re part of the charm. There’s nothing better than your pup curling up beside you as the sky darkens and the first feature flickers to life. And if your dog is more of an explorer, the wide-open lot becomes a world of new smells and friendly encounters. Many guests take their pups on a full lap around the perimeter of the grounds, a slow, easy tour that lets them sniff every corner and take in the night. Whether stretched out on a blanket or trotting around to explore, having your dog with you makes the night even better.

Choose Your Setup - Creativity Encouraged

There are countless ways to enjoy a movie at McHenry. You can watch the traditional way - parked head-on, windows down - or back into your spot, pop the hatch, and turn the rear of your vehicle into a cozy den. Over the years, many regulars have leveled up their setups into full outdoor living rooms: folding recliners, tables, FM speakers, tarps, mosquito-repellent candles, dog beds, and whatever comforts they dream up. Half the fun is seeing how everyone builds their own setup. You’ll spot inflatable mattresses in truck beds, swinging chairs, and clever canopy structures that stay low enough not to block anyone’s view. At McHenry, the movie is only part of the experience; the way people build their own little worlds for the night is also part of the adventure.

Chairs out, monkey mask on  it’s Planet of the Apes time at the drive‑in. Photos by Ken Payne.

A Rare Survivor of a Fading American Tradition - 75 Years!

At their peak in the 1950s and 60s (then still named Sky Line Drive-In), the United States had more than 4,000 drive-ins. The numbers tell the story: thousands in the ’70s, fewer than a thousand by the end of the ’80s, and only around 300 left today. That’s part of what makes the McHenry Outdoor Theater - built in 1951 and now celebrating its 75th anniversary - feel so meaningful. It is a living piece of American moviegoing history, still doing what so many others couldn’t hold onto. And this season, they’re marking the milestone with all kinds of promotions, including a massive giveaway offering free movies for the next 75 years to some lucky fans (I'd only be 134 years old when it expires).

And can you imagine the wonderful cars from the late 1940s and early 1950s parked throughout the lot when it first opened? On a warm summer night, families spread out across the gravel just as generations before them did, and it’s easy to picture what those early evenings looked like: rows of gleaming Chevrolets, Studebakers, and Ford Fairlanes easing into their spots, chrome catching the last of the daylight. Windows were rolled down as the hum of summer drifted through the air, the smell of fresh-cut grass mixing with a faint hint of gasoline. Elvis Presley crackled through AM radios - maybe "Heartbreak Hotel" or "Hound Dog" - while kids in cuffed jeans and saddle shoes raced to the concession stand for popcorn and fountain sodas. The screen towered over it all like a beacon, pulling everyone into a story as fireflies blinked across the lot. Today, the cars and the music may be different - or sometimes the same - but we’re still out here doing what they did then, reliving yesterday in our own way.

McHenry Outdoor Theater owner Scott Dehn. Photo courtesy McHenry Outdoor Theater.

Scott Dehn’s Vision: Nostalgia with a Modern Touch

Owner Scott Dehn, now in his 26th year, has done far more than keep the grounds tidy and the towering six-story screen in pristine shape. He guided the theater through the costly transition from analog film to digital projection, refreshed the concession area, expanded food options, added powerful external speakers, introduced tiered parking from VIP to standard, updated the bathrooms, and even added a selection of alcoholic beverages. He’s also woven cinematic aesthetic touches throughout the property, deepening the atmosphere and honoring the theater’s history. As Scott likes to say, McHenry offers “nostalgia with a modern touch” - and he’s absolutely right.

Enter Joe Cicero: Marketing, Community, and Big Ideas

Scott expanded his vision by bringing in Joe Cicero, a beloved longtime radio personality with deep roots in McHenry County, to serve as Director of Promotion and Marketing. Together, they’ve turned the theater into a nonstop engine of creativity: family value packs, themed nights like the wildly popular John Hughes triple feature, Bring Your Dog Night (complete with adoptable pups), and movie-themed car photo ops. They’ve partnered with local businesses for specialty snacks, art, and clothing pop-ups, and they often spotlight local singers by inviting them to perform the National Anthem before showtime. On occasion, they even bring in hometown bands to play live sets before the movie, adding an extra layer of energy and connection to the night. They also support organizations like Lamb’s Farm by selling their baked goods. If you can dream it, Scott and Joe are probably already planning it.

The team that makes it happen. Photo 1 (left to right) Joe Cicero, Director of Promotion and Marketing, Emily Knapik, General Manager, team members and Scott Dehn, Owner. Photo 2 (left to right) Scott Dehn and Joe Cicero. Photos courtesy McHenry Outdoor Theater.

Special Events, Themed Nights, and Seasonal Programming

McHenry Outdoor Theater celebrates its 75th anniversary with the kind of creativity and community spirit that has become its signature. All summer long, they’ve leaned into the milestone with special promotions and double features, including a partnership with Martin Chevrolet, who sponsored a one-day celebration where the first 75 cars were admitted completely free - a perfect nod to the drive-in’s 75 years of moviegoing history. On Fourth of July weekend, they hosted one of their biggest events ever when Major League Baseball selected McHenry as one of only four drive-ins nationwide for its America250 Summer Drive-In celebration. MLB rolled in a 43.6-foot-wide LED screen bright enough for daylight viewing, screened The Sandlot, hosted a live Cubs vs. Cardinals watch party, and capped the night with a full fireworks show over the grounds - a sellout event that felt like a love letter to American moviegoing. And the excitement isn’t ending with the anniversary year: McHenry plans to bring the MLB event back in 2027, keeping the momentum going into next season.

Themed nights remain a major draw, including this weekend's John Hughes Night with a triple feature of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, and Sixteen Candles, bringing fans back to the golden age of Chicago-made cinema and honoring the filmmaker whose stories defined a generation. Then, on August 28th and 29th, they’ll host Bring Your Dog Night with Scooby Doo and Beethoven, a crowd favorite that turns the lot into a tail-wagging celebration for movie lovers and their pups. The entire Back to the Future trilogy will follow on October 2nd and 3rd, a perfect fall throwback for longtime fans and a tribute to one of the most beloved time-travel stories ever put on film. And not long after, horror fans get their own treat with a full triple feature of A Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (all the originals) October 23rd and 24th, keeping the spooky season alive in true drive-in fashion.

Theme nights are highly popular. Replica cars were displayed from Sixteen Candles and Ferris Beuller's Day Off for John Hughes Triple Feature Night 2025 (left). Horror nights are always fun at McHenry Outdoor Theater. Photos by Ken Payne. 

As Halloween approaches, McHenry leans even further into the horror genre, scheduling classics like The Exorcist, Poltergeist, Halloween, and The Conjuring - a lineup that gives fans a chance to revisit some of the most iconic scares ever put on film. And while most drive-ins close for half the year, McHenry keeps the energy going almost to Christmas, transforming the lot into a cozy cold-weather movie haven. Winter brings visits with Santa Claus, a hot chocolate station with all the works, and chilly double-feature throwbacks where guests can bundle up under blankets and watch movies flicker against a winter sky. They plan to feature a Christmas throwback movie throughout November and December, screening it each Friday and Saturday, with admission set at just $15 per vehicle - one of the most affordable holiday outings around. With an off-season of only about three months or so, McHenry remains a year-round destination for classic drive-in spirit, community, and the kind of movie glow that keeps this place thriving decade after decade.

A Staff That Makes the Place Feel Like Home

Another part of what makes McHenry so welcoming is its staff, led in part by Emily Knapik, General Manager, whose friendly presence sets the tone for the entire team. They help with everything from stubborn headlights (tip: engaging the parking brake often works) to lowering hatches so no one’s view is blocked. They patrol the lot, assist with concessions, and even offer a jump-start service for anyone who drains their battery. But mostly, they’re there to assist patrons with whatever’s needed to make the evening smoother, more fun, and completely hassle-free. It’s the kind of attentive, good-natured support that makes the place feel like a community rather than just a venue.

On most nights, you’re likely to spot Scott, Joe, or Emily making their rounds - sometimes all three - always quick with a friendly wave or hello. They’re the steady heartbeat of the place, the folks who keep things running smoothly while making every guest feel like they belong, and they’re a big part of what makes McHenry feel so welcoming.

The staff is friendly and helpful. General Manager, Emily Kanpik covering the drive-in grounds (left). The outstanding staff of McHenry Outdoor Theater. Photos courtesy McHenry Outdoor Theater.

Stay Connected

For more information on upcoming films and promotions, visit www.goldenagecinemas.com - but the best way to stay up to date is by following them on Instagram at @mchenryoutdoor or on Facebook, where they post the latest news, unique events, and night-of surprises.

In the End

In the end, what makes the McHenry Outdoor Theater so special isn’t just the movies, the promotions, or even the history - it’s the feeling you get when the sky dims, the headlights fade, and a whole community settles in together under the stars. It’s a place where the past and present meet, where memories are made in real time, and where that old drive-in magic still lives and breathes. If you haven’t experienced it yet, you’re missing one of the pure joys of a Midwest summer evening. And in a world that moves faster every year, there’s something quietly remarkable about a place that invites you to slow down, look up, and enjoy a night that feels both timeless and entirely your own.

McHenry Outdoor Theater is located at 1510 N Chapel Hill Rd, McHenry, IL.

See ya at the drive in!

Otherworld Theatre blasts back into the cosmos with Season 4 of Starship Edsel: An Improvised Star Trek Parody, the latest chapter in its long-running improvised Star Trek satire. Now in its fourth outing, the misfit crew of the USS Edsel once again shows why the production remains a reliably funny fixture in Chicago’s sci-fi comedy landscape: sharp improvisers, affectionate genre parody, and the kind of starship energy you’d never find in the Federation’s official logs.

This season sends the Edsel crew tumbling through new temporal and interstellar absurdities, driven by the fast-paced, character-focused humor that has defined the show from the start. The ensemble dives into the joyful dysfunction of a starship seemingly held together by duct tape and questionable decisions, mixing Trek lore nods with gleeful irreverence and the lived-in chemistry that makes every malfunction and misunderstanding feel inevitable. That energy takes shape in an entirely new crisis: after stumbling through the early Star Trek timeline, the Edsel is abruptly flung centuries forward into the 32nd century, a future shaped by Star Trek: Discovery. Suddenly the galaxy looks unfamiliar, the rules have changed, and the crew finds themselves surrounded by Starfleet Academy cadets who seem barely old enough to pilot a shuttle, let alone judge the Edsel’s competence. I’m not sure whether the mission changes from performance to performance, but in this “episode” their assignment was deceptively simple – secure a peace‑extension treaty with the Blavakians (I hope I got that right) – and what should have been a straightforward diplomatic task stretched into an endlessly delayed ordeal, derailed by hilarious temporal hiccups, cultural misunderstandings, and the Edsel’s trademark ability to complicate even the calmest negotiations.

Directed by Second City alum Anthony LeBlanc, Chicago’s premier sci-fi theatre company brings its hit improvised Star Trek parody to Second City’s De Maat Theatre for its fourth season. Running from August 9 through September 13, the show lands every Sunday at 6 p.m., continuing Otherworld Theatre’s tradition of blending sharp improv, affectionate Trek satire, and the unpredictable charm of the galaxy’s most questionable starship.

The cultural whiplash is immediate: advanced tech they have never seen, protocols they do not understand, and a timeline that expects far more professionalism than the Edsel has ever demonstrated. With a brand-new captain stepping aboard, their six-week mission quickly spirals into new complications, leadership challenges, and the unscripted deep space mayhem that has carried the show through all four seasons.

One of the strongest comedic through lines comes from Wanjiku Kairu Oliver, who steps in as Captain Reitanna Troi and delivers a sharply tuned, consistently funny performance. She begins as an overly supportive, everyone-is-my-friend, besties-with-everyone captain desperate to be liked, then after a well-intentioned nudge from Admiral Jean Pierre Baptiste (played with dry precision and understated comic bite by Edward Neequaye) swings far too hard into stern, over-the-top authority, hilariously misreading his call for a middle ground he clearly thought was obvious.

Season 4’s comic energy is driven by a nimble ensemble that thrives on the Edsel’s brand of barely functional spacefaring misadventure. While the lineup can shift from week to week, in the performance I saw many of the standout laughs came from Matt Kawa as Lt. T’Pang Gah (what's better than a delightfully anachronistic Vulcan?); Carlos Rivera as Chief Counselor J’Errrs’Q, a Klingon with impeccable comedic timing; and Mike Mazzella’s Lt. Cmdr. James Buchanan. Together with the rest of the performers, the crew embraces bold physical comedy and sharp genre parody, making the Edsel’s catastrophes feel both inevitable and irresistible.

What makes the show genuinely entertaining is the cast’s ability to improvise on the spot with razor-precise timing. The performers take every unexpected turn, audience suggestion, and self-inflicted disaster and heighten it with quick pivots, smart character choices, and a shared instinct for building jokes together. The comedy never feels forced or manufactured; it grows organically from the crew’s chemistry and their collective willingness to commit fully to whatever absurdity the Edsel throws at them. The improvisation feels both effortless and impressively precise.

Starship Edsel makes clever use of multimedia to introduce and deepen its characters, with video briefings, ship diagnostics, and on-screen prompts that instantly ground the audience in its improvised sci-fi universe. The set, though minimal, somehow conjures the impression of a functioning starship interior – just enough structure to suggest the Edsel’s corridors and consoles while leaving the performers room to build the world through play. Before the episode begins, Admiral Jean Pierre Baptiste invites the audience to help repair the ship’s failing systems by answering a pair of questions; in this performance, the strangest gift ever received (a skunk) and the oddest motivational tactic from a boss (a magic trick) became key inputs. This talented ensemble wove both suggestions into the narrative with seamless, absurd precision, turning offhand audience answers into some of the night’s funniest running gags.

Created from a live-action role-playing framework written by Brandon Brylawski, the show uses that narrative backbone to fuel an ever-shifting roster of characters and cosmic complications. Each week’s cast builds on that structure with their own improvised twists, expanding the Edsel’s universe in ways that feel both unpredictable and perfectly in tune with the ship’s legacy. The result is a mission that always feels alive, flexible, and primed for fresh absurdity.

You do not need to be a die-hard Trekkie to enjoy Starship Edsel – far from it. While longtime fans will catch the deeper nods to Trek lore, the show’s comedy lands just as well for anyone walking in cold. I say that as someone who grew up religiously watching the original series (TOS) and The Next Generation, and who never fully made the jump to the sprawling lineup of later shows beyond the films. Even with my old-school Trek background, the Edsel’s improvised storytelling, character-driven humor, and affectionate parody make the experience completely accessible and endlessly entertaining.

If you are looking for a night of comedy that goes boldly where no starship should ever go, the Edsel is absolutely the disaster you want to beam aboard.

Run Dates: Opening – Sunday August 9 at 6 p.m., Closing – Sunday September 13 at 6 p.m.

Location: Second City’s De Maat Theatre, 1608 N Wells, Chicago, IL 60614

Running Time: 60-75 minutes with no intermission

Tickets: $25 general admission

Direct Ticket Link: https://www.secondcity.com/shows/chicago/starship-edsel-an-improvised-star-trek-satire-chi

Theatre Company Link: https://www.otherworldtheatre.org/starshipedsel

John Mulaney didn’t just perform at Wrigley Field. He made history there. In a venue synonymous with baseball legends, rock icons, and century-old Chicago lore, Mulaney became the first comedian ever to headline a full stand-up show at Wrigley Field, and, depending on which version of the truth you prefer, possibly the largest live audience for a comedian in history. Whether or not the record is airtight, the scale of the night was undeniable. Chicago turned out in force for one of its own.

A New Chapter: The Mister Whatever Tour

Mulaney’s Mister Whatever tour marks a tonal shift from the raw confessionals of Baby J. Where that show dissected his intervention, addiction, and the wreckage of his personal life, Mister Whatever leans into the absurdity of middle age, fatherhood, and domestic unpredictability. The storytelling remains fast, sharp, and unmistakably Mulaney, but now filtered through the lens of a man navigating toddlers, in-laws, and the strange mundanity of being a grown-up with a past.

Family Life and Fatherhood: Comedy in the Trenches

Mulaney’s material about family life is some of his richest yet, especially when he dives into the sprawling constellation of his new in-laws. Marrying into Olivia Munn’s Vietnamese-Chinese family gives him endless fodder, and he mines it with precision: overbearing relatives, cultural misunderstandings, and the kind of familial chaos that feels both universal and deeply specific. He even slips into a Vietnamese accent, a move he preemptively defends by insisting he has “earned the right” because they are his actual family now. It’s classic Mulaney: self-aware, slightly provocative, and delivered with a wink.

His bits about raising two toddlers are equally sharp. He compares dealing with a three-year-old to working in a toxic workplace, complete with unreasonable demands, emotional volatility, and a boss who has no concept of time. The late-night meltdowns, the negotiations over snacks, the existential exhaustion of parenting: he turns it all into a comedic autopsy of modern fatherhood.

And then there is the “wallet allowance,” a running gag about his post-rehab financial oversight. According to Mulaney, his wife and even bank cashiers treat him like a teenager with limited privileges. It’s a sly, self-deprecating way of acknowledging his past without dwelling in it.

Absurd Observations and Pop Culture: Mulaney’s Sweet Spot

Where Mulaney truly thrives is in the absurdity of everyday grievances, and his extended rant about modern $1,000 drying machines is a highlight of the night. He builds an entire comedic architecture around the decline of appliance quality: how dryers now seem designed to not dry clothes, how they beep like needy robots, how they offer dozens of settings but none that actually work. It’s the kind of bit only Mulaney can stretch into a full routine, turning a mundane annoyance into operatic frustration.

His pop culture and political impressions land just as hard. His RFK Jr. impression is a showstopper: wild, unhinged, and delivered with a kind of manic sincerity that had the stadium roaring. He skewers billionaires, public figures, and the bizarre circus of current events with the same blend of sharpness and silliness that has always defined his best work.

And then comes one of the night’s funniest detours. His bit about being possessed by Satan, specifically how Satan always does it the exact same way, with someone jolting upright in bed and unleashing a string of profanity, becomes one of the night’s sharpest and most ridiculous highlights. It’s pure Mulaney: theatrical, absurd, and delivered with the timing of a performer who knows exactly how long to let a joke breathe before landing it.

A Chicago Homecoming with Legendary Guests

What made the night feel truly monumental were the surprise guests, each adding their own flavor to the celebration.

Buddy Guy, Chicago blues royalty, took the stage and tore into a couple of songs, including a blistering rendition of “Sweet Home Chicago.” Seeing Buddy Guy at Wrigley Field would be a thrill on its own. Seeing him as part of a John Mulaney comedy show felt like a surreal Chicago fever dream.

Fred Armisen followed with a brilliantly odd set that blended music and comedy. Switching between guitar and drums, he delivered the kind of deadpan, musically infused humor that only Armisen can pull off. It was weird, delightful, and perfectly calibrated for a stadium crowd.

Richard Kind served as a sort of comedic emcee, popping in with jokes, introductions, and the warm, slightly bewildered charm that makes him such a beloved character actor. His presence added a theatrical looseness to the night.

And then, in a moment that felt like a benediction, David Letterman stepped out to introduce Mulaney. Letterman may be from Indiana, but in Chicago terms, that is close enough. His dry, understated introduction gave the night a sense of occasion, like a passing of the comedic torch from one generation to the next.

A Night That Felt Bigger Than Comedy

What made Mulaney’s Wrigley Field show remarkable wasn’t just the scale, or the guests, or the historic firsts. It was the sense of homecoming. Mulaney performed with the confidence of someone who knows the city in his bones: its rhythms, its humor, its contradictions. The stadium setting didn’t dilute his intimacy. It amplified it. His storytelling reached throughout the Friendly Confines without losing its specificity.

In a venue built for legends, Mulaney delivered a night worthy of the space.

Gary Gulman brings his new tour, 7th Hour: An All New Standup Show, to The Den Theatre, offering Chicago audiences a chance to see a comic who has spent decades refining the long-form, slow-burn style that has become unmistakably his. His five sold-out shows over the weekend are being recorded for an upcoming comedy special, giving each performance an added spark as he works through material with both confidence and care. Gulman’s comedy has always lived in the space between sharp observation and gentle self-reflection, and this latest set continues that progression with a mix of wry honesty and carefully shaped storytelling. His stop at The Den feels less like a routine tour date and more like a chance to watch a veteran performer stretch into new territory while still delivering the precision that has made him one of stand-up’s most quietly dependable voices.

The evening opened with Evanston’s own Sam Froum, whose set proved to be a sharp and genuinely funny warm-up for the night. He brought an easy confidence and a quick, clever rhythm to the stage, landing jokes with the kind of timing that immediately pulls a room in. It was a strong showing, and a fitting lead-in to Gulman’s tightly built headlining act.

Across 7th Hour, Gulman moves through a wide constellation of personal history, weaving together stories that span his depression, his admiration for his father’s unwavering integrity despite the loss of friends it may have cost him, and the realities of growing up with a single mother while navigating the rough edges of two bullying older brothers. His Jewish upbringing becomes a recurring thread, most notably in an extended, delightfully overthought retelling of the story of Moses - a bit that shifts from biblical epic to neurotic character study in a way only he can pull off. From there, he wonders aloud why Jewish people didn’t simply “like” Jesus so that Christianity might have evolved into an upbeat, colorful, pastel-tinted sect of Judaism, only to immediately challenge his own premise with the kind of self-correcting logic that fuels his best material. That exploration leads him into Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, where he zeroes in on “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” a phrase he deeply takes to heart, breaking it down with methodical curiosity as he imagines Jesus trying it out in front of smaller crowds at "open mounts" before delivering it on the big stage. Along the way, he has fun with the apostles - especially John and “Doubting” Thomas - treating them less as distant religious figures and more as characters he can analyze, tease, and reinterpret through his own gently overthinking lens. He even slips in a detour to Christian Bale’s Batman, acting out a hilarious gravel‑voiced exchange with Gary Oldman’s Commissioner Gordon that fits seamlessly into his stream of overthought observations.

He also devotes time to the values and education he drew from PBS, especially the steady presence of Mr. Rogers, whom he references with undeniable affection. Gulman lights up when recalling – and briefly singing – the closing song, “It’s Such a Good Feeling,” along with the simple but radical reassurance Mr. Rogers offered at the end of each episode: “I like you just the way you are.” He treats that sentiment with an earnest respect that shows how deeply it shaped him, even as he wonders aloud how anyone can truly live as their full, unfiltered self outside of a very small circle of people. He folds in humorous family stories tied to pledge drives, broadening the emotional palette of 7th Hour and grounding the comedy in the cultural touchstones that helped him make sense of the world long before he ever stepped onstage.

Gulman’s humor is a distinct blend of long-form storytelling, analytical overthinking, gentle self-examination, and slow-burn observational detail. He builds jokes the way essayists build arguments - layering premises, revisiting ideas, correcting himself mid thought, and letting the comedy emerge from the precision of his logic as much as from the punchline. His style is warm, meticulous, literary, and deeply human, often turning small moments from childhood, religion, or pop culture into sprawling, carefully engineered comedic set pieces.

And in 7th Hour, he brings that entire toolkit with him - sharper, fuller, and more emotionally grounded than ever. The show feels like Gulman operating at the height of his powers, shaping personal history into comedy with a confidence that suggests he knows he’s building material worthy of an upcoming special. What stands out most is how fully he leans into that mastery; 7th Hour plays like a comic working with total clarity of purpose and delivering exactly the kind of work only he can create.

Gulman’s career has been shaped by a steady run of smart, carefully built specials that highlight his gift for long-form comedy. From Boyish Man and In This Economy? to the critically praised It’s About Time and The Great Depresh, he has assembled a body of work defined by warmth, clarity, and an almost literary sense of structure. His stand-up has also been a reliable presence on late-night television, with memorable sets on Conan, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel Live, and The Tonight Show, each showcasing his ability to turn everyday frustrations and cultural quirks into slow-building, sharply observed stories. Together, these appearances have cemented him as one of the most consistent and quietly influential voices in contemporary stand-up.

If you get the chance to see Gulman live, take it. 7th Hour shows a comedian in full command of his craft, delivering work that is thoughtful, funny, and unmistakably his. It’s the kind of performance that reminds you why stand-up, at its best, feels both intimate and expansive at the same time.

Goodman Theatre’s Iceboy! arrives as a gleefully off the rails musical that blends Broadway glamour, Neanderthal chaos, and theatrical myth making into one of the most delightfully strange premises to hit Chicago in years. It’s a satire, a love letter to showbiz, and a playful reimagining of how Eugene O’Neill might have found inspiration for The Iceman Cometh - if history had taken a wildly different turn.

Set in 1939, Iceboy! or The Completely Untrue Story of How Eugene O’Neill Came to Write “The Iceman Cometh” follows Broadway superstar Vera Vimm, who purchases the newly thawed 40,000‑year‑old Neanderthal after he’s discovered in the Arctic. An orphan herself, Vera risks the last of her money because she sees in Iceboy not just a curiosity, but the possibility of a son. Once he thaws, “Iceboy” unexpectedly becomes a theatrical sensation, charming Manhattan and quickly rising to stardom. His meteoric fame threatens Vera’s own spotlight, creating a comic rivalry as she scrambles to maintain her status.

Meanwhile, playwright Eugene O’Neill - stuck in a bout of severe writer’s block - becomes fascinated by Iceboy’s sudden cultural impact. In this fictionalized retelling, Iceboy’s presence and persona inspire O’Neill to write The Iceman Cometh, intertwining the Neanderthal’s improbable celebrity with one of American theatre’s most iconic works. The musical plays as a satirical backstage romp - part showbiz fable, part absurdist comedy - where ambition, ego, and theatrical legend collide, all delivered with a cheerful, madcap sensibility that feels straight out of the Mel Brooks playbook. The tone is broad, cheeky, and joyfully irreverent, embracing the kind of anything goes comic mayhem Brooks perfected in The Producers and Young Frankenstein.

Megan Mullally as Vera Vimm and Nick Offerman as Eugene O'Neill in Iceboy! at Goodman Theatre. Photos by Todd Rosenberg.

To appreciate just how boldly Iceboy! reframes O’Neill’s legacy, it helps to remember what The Iceman Cometh actually is.

O’Neill’s future Pulitzer Prize offering inspired a four-hour film that’s essentially a parade of drunks in a dim bar, each clinging to dreams they’ll never pursue - the bar itself a metaphor for their inability to move forward, trapped in the same place both physically and emotionally. The 1973 film adaptation centers on the down and out patrons of Harry Hope’s saloon in 1912 Greenwich Village. These men - alcoholics, former revolutionaries, disgraced professionals - spend their days drowning in booze and clinging to “pipe dreams” of future redemption.

Their routine is disrupted when charismatic salesman Theodore “Hickey” Hickman arrives - sober, zealous, and determined to force everyone to abandon their illusions. Hickey’s mission to strip the barflies of their comforting fantasies leads to emotional unraveling, bitter confrontations, and ultimately a chilling confession about his own past. The story is a tragic, philosophical exploration of hope, delusion, and the brutal cost of facing reality.

All of that brooding, booze-soaked existentialism makes Iceboy!’s approach even more refreshing. Where O’Neill’s world traps its characters, this musical unleashes its own with joyful abandon - led by an ensemble so charismatic and so sharply funny that the show vibrates with life.

Guiding the production is director Marc Bruni, who shapes the show with crisp timing and a clear sense of comic architecture, keeping its wild premise buoyant without letting it unravel. The music by Mark Hollmann gives the story a light, upbeat foundation, and the lyrics by Hollmann and Jay Reiss add steady humor throughout. The book by Erin Quinn Purcell and Reiss keeps the tone approachable, offering just enough structure for the characters to play within. Joann M. Hunter’s choreography provides simple, well‑placed movement that supports the show’s comic rhythm without calling attention to itself.

It certainly helps that Iceboy! is powered by an outrageously talented and instantly likeable ensemble. Husband and wife duo Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally make a dynamite team - Offerman is superb, bringing his signature deadpan charm to Eugene O’Neill, the same understated precision and dry, unflappable humor that’s made him beloved in Parks and Recreation, Devs, and The Last of Us. Mullally, best known for her Emmy winning turn as Karen Walker on Will & Grace, her unforgettable Tammy II opposite husband Nick Offerman on Parks and Recreation, and her Broadway run in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, delivers a riotously funny, razor sharp performance as Broadway titan Vera Vimm. She tears into the role with fearless comic bravado and vocal firepower that reminds you she’s a true musical theatre pro - her belt is thrilling, her phrasing wickedly playful, and her comedic musicality is a show in itself. Few performers can time a sharp aside with Mullally’s precision.

(L-R) Melanie Brezill, Shawn Pfautsch, Megan Mullally, SarahStiles and Grey Henson in Iceboy!

Cedric Yarbrough, best known for Reno 911! and Speechless, is terrific as Floyd Richards, Vera’s devoted lover and perpetually stressed playwright. He brings a warm, rumpled charm to the role, layering Floyd’s desperation with impeccable timing, sly vocal humor, and a steady stream of perfectly landed one-liners. His presence gives the show a grounded comic pulse that keeps the chaos humming - and his baritone is impressive.

Chicago favorite Alex Goodrich is a delight as Frankenstein, one of Vera’s long-suffering caretakers, layering the role with buoyant physical comedy and a wonderfully off-kilter energy that fits the show’s boisterous comic verve.

As Iceboy or “Jeff,” Grey Henson is a revelation - wide eyed, instinctive, and musically explosive. He plays the Neanderthal with such innocence and uninhibited theatrical gusto that the audience can’t help but root for him. He’s a genuine surprise as well, offering several scene-stealing moments that deepen the show’s comic momentum and give its wild energy an extra spark.

And Sarah Stiles, as Lambert, Vera’s whip‑smart, perpetually overwhelmed assistant, makes every appearance count with her explosive comedic instincts and razor‑precise delivery. Her timing is immaculate - every flustered aside, every clipped retort, every moment of mounting panic lands with such clarity and control that she elevates even the smallest beat. Stiles has a way of shaping a line so it hits with both intelligence and impact, turning Lambert’s exasperation into one of the show’s most consistently funny throughlines.

Together, this ensemble - Offerman, Mullally, Yarbrough, Henson, Stiles, Goodrich, and a bench of other strong players rounding out the cast - forms an ecstatically silly comedy machine, a group so talented and irresistibly likeable that the laughs never let up and every performer feels essential to the show’s delirious momentum.

The musical numbers are wonderfully fun. Songs like the opening number “Historic Find,” the gloriously unhinged “Can You Call Me ‘Mama’?,” and the full company showstopper “Hooray for Iceboy!” set the tone for the musical’s raucous spirit. Each one is packed with sharp wit, big Broadway energy, and the kind of gleeful absurdity that keeps the audience laughing long after the button. “Historic Find” opens the show with a clean burst of discovery‑driven momentum, “Can You Call Me ‘Mama’?” makes full use of Mullally and Henson's sharp comic instincts, and “Hooray for Iceboy!” brings the full company together for a lighthearted, good‑natured celebration. This sample size of songs highlights how musically nimble and consistently funny Iceboy! is - a score that shifts easily between cleverness, silliness, and moments of heightened theatrical play.

One of the funniest musical numbers in the show is “Marry Me,” sung with perfect comic contrast by Grey Henson and Sarah Stiles. In it, Iceboy proposes to Lambert with disarming sincerity, offering what he believes are tender declarations of affection - only to fold in a series of prehistoric “courtship traditions” drawn from his caveman understanding of romance. Throughout the song Iceboy sings to her, “I want to take you from behind,” his way of saying he'd like to marry her. The result is a wonderfully off‑balance duet that lands as one of the show’s most genuinely hilarious moments.

Adding to the show’s irresistible charm is the fantastic Art Deco set designed by Paul Tate Depoo, which instantly places us inside Vera Vimm’s lavish living room - all gleaming lines, bold geometry, and glamorous period detail. Depoo’s design captures the theatrical excess of 1939 Broadway while giving the actors a playground of visual delight. On each side of the stage, Eugene O’Neill’s writing desks sit like dueling stations of inspiration and frustration, a clever touch that keeps his presence woven into the action. And, true to O’Neill’s legacy, there’s always a bottle within reach, a sly nod that becomes both a running joke and a thematic anchor. It’s a smart, stylish environment that supports the comedy while grounding the show in a richly imagined world.

Iceboy! or The Completely Untrue Story of How Eugene O’Neill Came to Write “The Iceman Cometh” is an outrageously inventive, joy-charged burst of musical comedy that proves Goodman Theatre can still surprise us in the best possible ways. With its fearless cast, sharp writing, and deliriously fun score, it’s the kind of show that sends you out grinning and grateful for the sheer imagination on display. Iceboy! runs through August 9th at Goodman Theatre and stands as one of the most riotously entertaining nights out you’ll find this summer.

Very highly recommended.

Now extended through August 16th. For tickets and/or more show information, click here.

Mia Chung’s Catch as Catch Can, which premiered with Page 73 in New York in 2018, arrives at Steppenwolf Theatre - one of Chicago’s most dynamic and daring artistic institutions - with a production that immediately embraces the play’s slippery, shape-shifting nature. Chung’s script thrives on emotional volatility and fractured identity, and Steppenwolf’s staging taps into that energy from the outset, preparing the audience for a world where the familiar can tilt, distort, and reassemble without warning.

Catch as Catch Can begins with the familiar comfort of kitchen-table talk between two New England mothers, Roberta Lavecchia and Theresa Phelan. Under Amy Morton’s direction, those early scenes feel lived-in and deceptively ordinary - two longtime friends trading stories, worries, and family updates with the shorthand of people who have known each other for decades. But as the play unfolds, that everyday warmth becomes the launching point for a story that veers into far more disorienting territory. The return of Tim Phelan unsettles the delicate balance between the Lavecchias and the Phelans, stirring up old assumptions, unspoken resentments, and long-dormant family myths. What begins as a simple homecoming slowly reveals itself as a catalyst for emotional slippage, where memories blur, loyalties shift, and the characters’ sense of who they are - and who they have been to each other - starts to fracture. Morton guides this progression from domestic realism to psychological unraveling with remarkable control, allowing the play’s humor, tension, and creeping dread to coexist in the same breath.

The production’s boldest device - three actors portraying all six characters - becomes the heartbeat of the evening. Gary Cole (as Roberta and Robbie Lavecchia), Audrey Francis (as Lon and Daniela Lavecchia), and Tim Hopper (as Theresa Phelan and Tim Phelan) deliver performances that are nothing short of remarkable. Morton directs them with a sculptor’s precision, shaping each transformation through voice, posture, and energy rather than costume changes or props. The actors rarely add so much as an apron, a pair of glasses, or a purse to differentiate roles; instead, they rely on the smallest shifts in breath, cadence, or physical weight. Even the simplest physical actions - threading a needle, folding laundry, lifting a heavy picture onto a wall, or a mother rolling out her famous meatballs - become character markers, subtle cues that signal who is speaking without ever breaking the flow of the scene. At times, it feels as though six fully realized people are occupying the room, even though only three bodies ever stand onstage.

After the opening scene, it took me a few minutes to recalibrate to the production’s rhythm, especially as the actors began switching characters with such speed and minimal visual cues. But that adjustment period is brief. Before long, the doubling feels not only natural but essential, a kind of theatrical language the production teaches you how to read. Once you settle into its cadence, the transformations become thrilling rather than disorienting, sharpening the play’s emotional stakes and deepening its sense of unease.

The rapid-fire switching becomes its own kind of theatrical whiplash. An actor may leap from one character to another every other sentence, often without a single visual clue, and Morton ensures each pivot lands cleanly without losing an ounce of emotional clarity. The play becomes a fault line in constant motion, where identities slide, collide, and splinter beneath the surface.

Gary Cole, Tim Hopper and Audrey Francis (L-R) in Steppenwolf Theatre's Catch As Catch Can. Photo by Michael Brosilow.

All three performers - Gary Cole, Audrey Francis, and Tim Hopper - are longtime Steppenwolf ensemble members, bringing a shared artistic vocabulary that sharpens every transformation onstage.

Cole toggles between Roberta’s brittle warmth and Robbie’s restless bravado with astonishing finesse. This production marks his first return to a Chicago stage in more than 25 years, and it is a triumphant homecoming. He is known to many for Office Space, Talladega Nights, HBO’s Veep, NCIS, and one of my favorite roles - Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch Movie and its sequel. Cole reminds audiences that his stage roots run deep. As Roberta, he carries a soft, fluttering concern that sits right behind the eyes; as Robbie, that same gaze sharpens into something quicker, hotter, and more impulsive. His ability to pivot between those energies with nothing more than a shift in breath or a recalibrated stance makes each transition feel both seamless and startling. It is a performance built on precision, but it never feels mechanical.

Francis brings an equally impressive duality to Lon and Daniela. In addition to being a Steppenwolf ensemble member, she now serves as the company’s artistic director alongside Glenn Davis, a role that underscores her influence on Chicago’s theatrical landscape. Known for standout performances in The Herd, Dance Nation, her work on Chicago Med, and directorial skill in You Will Get Sick, she grounds Lon with a quiet, blue-collar steadiness, a man who absorbs the world before reacting to it. Daniela, by contrast, is all edges and alertness, her movements tighter and her voice pitched with a nervous brightness that hints at deeper cracks. Francis masterfully switches entire gravitational centers. The clarity of her physical vocabulary makes each character instantly legible without a single costume change.

Hopper’s pairing may be the most haunting of the three. With Steppenwolf credits that include The Crucible, The Flick, and Buried Child, he brings a raw, unsettling honesty to both Theresa and Tim. His Theresa is a portrait of unraveling vulnerability, a woman whose emotional seams are beginning to split in ways she can barely articulate. His Tim, meanwhile, carries the quiet desperation of someone trying to hold himself together even as the ground shifts beneath him. Hopper plays both roles with a volatility that feels almost dangerous. The characters mirror and distort one another, creating an emotional echo that deepens the play’s sense of unease. Watching him slip between them is like watching a reflection break apart and reassemble in real time.

Together, these performances form the core of the production’s power. With Morton’s direction guiding every pivot, the trio creates the uncanny sensation that the stage is populated by twice as many people as are physically present. Their transformations are so quick and so clean that the audience must stay alert, tracking identities as they slide, collide, and reform. It is a feat of acting that is both technically dazzling and emotionally resonant, and it is the reason the play’s unstable world feels so alive.

As the story darkens - touching on mental health, racism, cultural tension, and the fragile scaffolding that holds families together - the doubling amplifies the instability. Chung threads moments of racial bias and coded language into the fabric of these families’ interactions, revealing how prejudice can hide inside the most casual exchanges and how easily it can rupture long-standing bonds. Morton understands that the play’s power lies in this slippage, and she allows the actors to push into the unsteady terrain without ever losing emotional truth. The result is a production that feels intimate yet vertiginous, a domestic drama that slowly cracks open into a haunting exploration of identity and the roles we inherit, perform, and sometimes cannot escape.

Andrew Boyce’s scenic design is a quiet marvel, giving the production a sense of dimensionality that feels both naturalistic and subtly disorienting. The main playing space is an open living room, flanked on one side by an entryway and a partial view into the kitchen, and on the other by a long hallway that suggests the deeper interior of the house. Just beyond the living room, another room is visible past a second hallway, creating the impression of a home that extends well beyond the edges of the stage. Boyce’s layout allows the audience to feel as though they’re peering into a fully lived-in environment, one with corners, thresholds, and unseen rooms that hold their own histories. Yuki Nakase Link’s lighting deepens this effect, subtly sculpting each corridor and doorway so the house seems to breathe with possibility - sometimes warm and inviting, sometimes shadowed with tension. It is a multidimensional design that grounds the play’s domestic realism while subtly reinforcing the sense that something inside this home - and inside these families - is evolving.

In their Artistic Director note, Glenn Davis and Audrey Francis frame Catch as Catch Can as a rare convergence of timing, artistry, and ensemble history - a production long delayed, now finally realized with the team that first set out to make it in 2020. They speak to the play’s uncanny pull, describing how Chung’s story has embedded itself in the company’s imagination, refusing to loosen its grip. For them, the doubling is not just a theatrical device but a test of the ensemble’s virtuosity, a chance for Steppenwolf to stretch its actors toward the edges of what performance can hold. And at the heart of their message is the idea that the play’s exploration of identity, home, and the selves we construct makes it a fitting capstone to the theatre’s 50th anniversary season - a reminder of how Steppenwolf’s long-standing commitment to family drama, artistic risk, and shared storytelling continues to shape its legacy.

Catch as Catch Can ultimately lands with the force of a quiet detonation, its emotional aftershocks lingering long after the final blackout. Morton and her trio of actors craft a world that feels both intimate and treacherous, a place where identity slips, refracts, and reforms in ways that are as unsettling as they are compelling. It is the kind of production that rewards close attention and invites conversation long after you’ve left the theatre - about family, perception, and the narratives we inherit without realizing it. Catch as Catch Can runs at Steppenwolf through July 12, with performances throughout the week, and it is very highly recommended for anyone who craves theatre that challenges, unsettles, and stays with you.

For tickets and/ or more show information, click here.

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

Nate Bargatze’s Big Dumb Eyes tour made its stop at the Allstate Arena in Rosemont with the steady, understated presence that has become central to his appeal. Bargatze continues to draw humor from the small missteps and everyday confusions that shape his storytelling, easing the audience into his rhythm rather than pushing for big moments. His unhurried delivery works surprisingly well in a venue of this size, creating a sense of shared focus that settles over the room as he builds each joke with quiet precision.

This powerhouse comedy tour is anchored by host Julian McCullough, whose easygoing charm and quick-hit crowd work set the tone for the night before the headliner ever steps onstage. He’s joined by a sharp trio of comics - Greg Warren, Gary Vider, and Jonnie W - each bringing a distinct comedic style that keeps the momentum building from set to set. Warren’s dry, story-driven humor, Vider’s understated oddball delivery, and Jonnie W’s musical-comedy flair create a well-balanced undercard that feels like a full evening of stand-up on its own. Together, they form a tightly assembled lineup that primes the audience perfectly for the main event.

Julian McCullough, Greg Warren, Gary Vider, and Jonnie W will all be making upcoming appearances at Zanies Rosemont, giving Chicago-area comedy fans several chances to catch them live. McCullough returns to the club on June 5–7, while Greg Warren is scheduled for a special event weekend on May 22–23. Jonnie W will headline Zanies Rosemont on July 26, and Gary Vider’s next Chicago-area dates are at Zanies Chicago on March 27–28, offering multiple showtimes across both nights.

Bargatze has been performing in arenas for some time now, and the format suits him more naturally than one might expect. The in-the-round staging keeps him accessible from every direction, while the large video screens ensure that even the most subtle expressions read clearly throughout the space. It is an effective setup for a comedian whose style relies on nuance rather than volume. In a venue as large as Allstate, laughter does not always erupt all at once - it spreads gradually, section by section, until the entire arena is moving with the same steady momentum.

A significant portion of Bargatze’s material continues to revolve around his family, with stories about parenting, marriage, and the everyday negotiations that come with trying to make sense of the world alongside the people closest to you. But he also branches into the absurdities of modern life, touching on everything from AI to self-driving cars to couples therapy - and even the baffling challenge of buying a horse, because, as he points out, who actually knows the price of a horse? These moments are not exaggerated or heightened for effect. Instead, he treats them with the same calm, observational tone that defines his work. The humor comes from the honesty of the situations and the quiet recognition they spark, especially for audiences who see their own households and daily frustrations reflected in his.

His Rosemont appearance is one stop in a long stretch of dates as the Big Dumb Eyes tour continues across major arenas nationwide. The upcoming schedule includes cities throughout the Midwest, East Coast, and South, each offering a chance for audiences to experience how his understated approach translates to rooms of this scale. At this point, Bargatze stands among the strongest stand-ups touring at the arena level, not because he relies on spectacle, but because his material remains consistent, grounded, and effective no matter the size of the venue.

In the end, the Allstate Arena stop underscored why Bargatze’s rise has felt so steady and assured. His comedy does not demand attention - it earns it through clarity, timing, and a genuine connection to the everyday experiences he describes. For a comedian whose style is built on understatement, filling an arena might seem counterintuitive, yet he makes the space feel surprisingly intimate. It is a testament to his craft and a clear sign that his place on the arena circuit is well deserved.

David Koechner stormed into The Den Theatre’s Mainstage this weekend with the kind of unruly, big‑hearted presence that instantly reminded audiences why he had been a comedy fixture for more than two decades. People knew him as the blustering Champ Kind from Anchorman, the delightfully inappropriate Todd Packer on The Office, and from scene‑stealing turns in Waiting…, Talladega Nights, and Krampus. But the Koechner who took the stage here was a comic in full evolution, digging into the raw, strange, deeply human corners of his own story.

His set leaned heavily into his Missouri upbringing, though not in the polished, memoir‑ready way you might expect. Koechner unspooled these memories as if he were rediscovering them in the moment – childhood chaos, family quirks, and the odd rhythms of small‑town life all collided and escalated into full‑tilt comedic spirals. His Second City roots were unmistakable, and the Chicago connection ran deeper than nostalgia; Koechner lived in the city for nine years, and that long stretch of his life seemed to pulse through the performance. He shifted voices, dropped into characters, and built entire scenes out of thin air, giving the night a sense of spontaneity that felt tailor‑made for The Den’s intimate Mainstage.

What defined this chapter of his stand‑up was how much he fed off the room. Koechner treated the audience like co‑conspirators, not spectators. A stray laugh or a bold comment could send him veering off script, and those detours often became the highlight of the night. There was a looseness to the show – a sense that anything could happen – that made the experience feel alive in a way only seasoned improvisers can pull off.

Although he tossed in a quick nod to the roles that made him a household name near the end of the set, he never leaned on them as a crutch. Still, hearing Champ Kind and Todd Packer delivered straight from the source was undeniably fun. The real draw was Koechner himself: messy, generous, unpredictable, and fully engaged. His weekend at The Den Theatre served as a reminder that he was not just a beloved character actor – he was a stand‑up with a singular voice, still sharpening it, still surprising himself, and still finding new ways to bring the audience along for the ride.

Koechner’s Mainstage run was rowdy, personal, and unmistakably his – the kind of night where you walked out buzzing, not because you saw Champ Kind live, but because you saw David Koechner exactly as he was now: a comic still evolving, still swinging big, and still wildly fun to watch.

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

Spaceman, presented by [producingbody], touches down at The Edge Off-Broadway with a quiet, unnerving force, pulling audiences into the fragile headspace of an astronaut drifting far from home and even farther from certainty. Under Eric Slater’s beautifully calibrated direction, playwright Leegrid Stevens’ one‑woman odyssey becomes less a sci‑fi spectacle than a psychological excavation, using isolation, sound, and the illusion of the vastness of space to illuminate the even vaster, far more treacherous terrain of the human mind. What unfolds is intimate, disorienting, and strangely beautiful - a mission that feels as internal as it is interstellar.

Commander Molly Jennis, played with raw precision by Ashley Neal, anchors the entire piece, and Stevens places her in a cockpit that feels less like a command center and more like a sealed chamber where every thought ricochets back at her. Seven months from Earth and en route to Mars on a mission meant to help establish the first human colony, Molly exists in a liminal space where even the simplest exchange with Houston (a.k.a. Rob, voiced by Slater) arrives with a ten‑minute delay. That communication gap becomes its own form of psychological erosion - a constant reminder of how far she’s drifted from help, from home, and from anything resembling real‑time human connection.

But Molly’s mission is no longer just scientific. It’s personal. In this adaptation, the script’s original husband Harry is affectingly reimagined as Ari, Molly’s wife - also an astronaut - who died in a catastrophic space mishap, a loss that shattered her sense of purpose and left her clinging to a belief that borders on spiritual desperation. Convinced that Mars is the gateway to the afterlife, she pushes forward not only to complete her assignment but in the hope of finding Ari waiting for her on the other side of the red planet’s dust and silence. That longing becomes the engine of the play, fueling her resolve even as it accelerates her unraveling.

Life aboard the ship only intensifies that disintegration. Molly faces a barrage of indignities and challenges that chip away at her humanity: the crushing loneliness of months without touch or immediacy; the numbing boredom of endless routines; the hygiene compromises of sponge baths and wipes in place of a shower; and the messy, often humiliating realities of zero‑gravity bathroom logistics that turn even basic bodily functions into small disasters. These details aren’t played for cheap laughs - they’re reminders of how fragile the body becomes when stripped of comfort, privacy, and gravity itself. Each inconvenience compounds her grief, her remoteness, and her growing conviction that the only meaningful destination left is the one where Ari might be found.

Neal channels all of this with remarkable control. Her Molly is a woman split between duty and delusion, the clipped professionalism of a trained astronaut slowly fraying into paranoia, longing, and hallucinatory hope. Neal’s performance is built on micro‑shifts - the tightening of her jaw, the flicker of yearning behind her eyes, the way her voice strains to maintain authority even as her internal compass spins. She makes Molly’s belief in Ari’s presence feel both irrational and heartbreakingly human.

The plot circles her in increasingly suffocating loops, blurring memory, mission, and metaphysical longing until the audience is never quite sure what’s real and what’s the product of a psyche pushed past its limits. Yet even within that pressure, the play finds brief, unexpected flickers of levity - small human moments that remind us Molly is still fighting to stay tethered to herself. It’s a performance - and a character - shaped as much by silence, distance, bodily strain, and cosmic grief as by the script itself.

Ashley Neal in SPACEMAN from [producingbody] now playing through June 13 at The Edge Off-Broadway.

The production design at The Edge Off‑Broadway becomes an essential partner in Molly’s unspooling, transforming the cozy 50‑or‑so‑seat venue into an airtight capsule that pulls the audience directly into her orbit. A lone captain’s chair sits at the center of the cockpit, surrounded by glowing computer screens that flicker with data like a heartbeat she’s trying desperately to trust. Her only living friend is a small, responsive plant that tilts and bends as though it’s trying to understand her, a fragile tether to something organic in the endless dark. But she also has Jen (Sadieh Rifai) - the ship’s AI voice whose constant presence fills the silence with a companionable, sometimes unsettling intimacy. Throughout the play, the low, constant hum of the rocket engine underscores every moment, a sonic reminder of the machine that keeps her alive even as it isolates her. Lighting is used with surgical precision: tight, concentrated beams that lock onto Molly and amplify her intensity, then suddenly widen into sweeping celestial washes that pull the audience into the vast, indifferent expanse outside her ship. When a meteor strikes the hull, the sound design erupts with visceral force, rattling the space and Molly’s nerves in equal measure. And in one of the production’s most ingenious touches, Allyce Torres - dressed entirely in black and nearly invisible against the cockpit’s shadows - moves objects with ghostlike stealth to create the uncanny illusion of zero gravity. That she also portrays Ari adds an extra layer of resonance, as if her presence is haunting the space even when Molly can’t see her. Every element works in concert to heighten the story’s tension and fragility, making the production not just a backdrop but a powerful, immersive engine driving the narrative forward.

Amy Carpenter, who helps shepherd the production as a producer, also understudies Molly Jennis - a dual role that underscores her investment in the piece’s dramatic and technical precision.

The production’s technical artistry is anchored by a trio of designers whose work deepens the play’s immersive pull. Taylor Dalton (executive producer/set design/costume design), Angela Joy Baldasare (sound designer), and Garrett Bell (lighting designer) craft an environment that feels both meticulously engineered and emotionally charged, each element reinforcing the story’s tautness, precariousness, and sense of cosmic seclusion.

Ashley Neal in SPACEMAN from [producingbody] now playing through June 13 at The Edge Off-Broadway.

Even before the lights go down, Spaceman begins tightening its grip. Audience members are required to seal their phones in Yondr pouches - those soft, magnetic lock bags used at concerts and comedy shows - and the effect is immediate. In such an intimate venue, the simple act of surrendering your device creates a subtle but unmistakable shift: the outside world goes quiet, your digital bind snaps, and a faint echo of Molly’s own isolation settles in. It’s a small, clever pre‑show ritual that primes the audience for the loneliness, disconnection, and suspended‑in‑the‑void feeling that defines her journey. By the time you take your seat, you’re already living in a version of her world - cut off, contained, and waiting for contact that won’t come quickly.

Spaceman is a singular, deeply immersive theatrical experience, the kind that sneaks up on you and refuses to let go. I felt myself drawn in further with each passing minute, the tension tightening and the stakes rising as Molly’s journey pushed deeper into the void. What lingered with me was the sensation of being slowly enveloped - not by spectacle, but by atmosphere. The production creates a kind of emotional gravity, a pull that grows stronger the longer you sit with Molly’s loneliness, her determination, her fraying edges. By the time she reaches the farthest point from Earth, I realized I had traveled with her, carrying the same weight, the same longing, the same fragile hope that something - anything - might answer back.

At just 100 minutes with no intermission - and no re‑entry if you need to leave the theatre - Spaceman demands and rewards full immersion. It’s a tightly calibrated, deeply human piece of sci‑fi storytelling that lingers long after the final blackout, and it comes recommended. Spaceman runs May 19 - June 13 at The Edge Off-Broadway, with tickets priced $15-45. Tickets and additional information are available at www.producingbody.com.

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