Displaying items by tag: Funny

Dark comedies built around relationship dynamics have always drawn me in because they reveal conflict with a kind of honesty that feels both familiar and unpredictable. When couples clash, the humor isn’t just situational; it’s rooted in history, habit, and the tiny emotional landmines only long-term partners know how to trigger. Fault fits squarely into that tradition, taking the everyday rhythms of a long marriage and pushing them just far enough to expose the raw, funny, and uncomfortable truths beneath the surface. That blend of recognition and surprise is exactly what makes this kind of comedy so compelling, and why Fault lands with such a specific charge.

That sense of intimate volatility is exactly what Jason Alexander explores in his return to Chicago Shakespeare Theater. With Fault, he brings the sharp directorial instinct he showed in his earlier CST production Judgment Day and applies it to a far more contained emotional landscape. In this world premiere written by Scooter Pietsch, he shapes the play’s tightening grid of tension and moral uncertainty with a touch that feels both precise and unexpectedly humane. The result is a tightly focused piece driven by tension that sparks almost instantly - less an explosive outburst than a controlled shift in the room - with the personal fractures between the characters steering the story toward its breaking point.

Pictured are Enrico Colantoni (Jerry), Playwright Scooter Pietsch, Rebecca Spence (Lucy), Nick Marini (Shaun), and Director Jason Alexander. April 18– May 24, 2026, in The Yard at Chicago Shakespeare. Photo by Justin Barbin.

In Fault, the night detonates the moment Jerry Green walks in expecting to celebrate a career defining merger and instead finds his wife, Lucy, in an intimate moment with a young man she has just met, Shaun. What could have ended in a single, stunned confrontation instead becomes the spark for a long, spiraling night in which no one is allowed to leave, and nothing stays contained. The shock of the discovery quickly gives way to a volatile mix of accusations, shifting alliances, and long suppressed grievances, turning their home into a closed-door standoff where every truth feels like a trap and every explanation opens a deeper wound. Jerry and Lucy have long operated as a high functioning power couple, relying on professional unity to keep their marriage steady; once that balance collapses, the cracks at home widen just as quickly. It is interesting that Pietsch also underscores the irony that Jerry’s career‑defining merger has just made the couple newly minted billionaires after a long string of failures, and yet - proving that all the money in the world can’t change some people - they still behave like high‑achieving narcissists, turning their blame and abuse on each other and on the young stranger they’ve invited into their lavish home.

As the hours stretch on, the situation tilts from chaotic to revealing, exposing the fractures that have been quietly shaping this marriage for decades. Jerry’s need for control, Lucy’s hunger for something unspoken, and Shaun’s unexpected presence collide in ways that force each of them to confront what they’ve been avoiding. What begins as a moment of betrayal becomes a full-scale excavation of loyalty, resentment, and the stories couples tell themselves to stay intact. The play’s dark humor emerges from this escalating tension - how quickly a single mistake can unravel a life, and how a marriage can be tested most brutally not by the act itself, but by everything it brings to the surface. And just to remind you, this is a comedy - and a hilarious one at that.

Jerry even admits at one point that arguments never really have winners, a truth he delivers with the weary certainty of someone who has spent years circling the same conversational battlegrounds. Yet the play understands something deeper and more uncomfortable: that couples can become strangely addicted to the very banter that exhausts them. The back‑and‑forth may bruise, but it also affirms a shared language, a familiar rhythm, a way of feeling alive inside a relationship that has otherwise gone quiet. In Fault, that warped need becomes both a source of comedy and a mirror held up to the audience, revealing how easily love and combat can blur when two people know each other too well.

For all its blistering comedy, Fault is threaded with the quieter, more unsettling realizations that come with aging - what it means to feel your desirability slipping, to lose track of the person you married, or to crave the parts of yourself you fear have vanished. The betrayals at the center of the play aren’t just about infidelity; they’re about the desperate need to feel seen, wanted, and alive again. Beneath the chaos and sharp-edged humor runs a steady pulse of vulnerability, as each character confronts the version of themselves they’ve been avoiding. And just when the night seems like it can’t twist any further, the play barrels into a smash bang ending that lands with real force - the kind that sends audiences out buzzing, debating, and replaying the final moments long after the curtain comes down.

Presenting the world premiere dark comedy Fault, by Scooter Pietsch and directed by Jason Alexander. Featuring Enrico Colantoni (Jerry) and Nick Marini (Shaun). Photo by Justin Barbin.

The cast of Fault features three principal performers, each driving a different charge in the play’s volatile, rapidly escalating night. Enrico Colantoni gives Jerry Green a grounded, lived in presence, letting decades of pent up frustration surface through tightly controlled physical choices and a dry comic timing that makes his smallest shifts register. Opposite him, Chicago favorite Rebecca Spence shapes Lucy Green with a blend of wit, restraint, and emotional clarity; her sharp physical beats and instinctive timing keep each exchange taut while still allowing the humor to flicker through. Shaun, whose chance encounter with Lucy at the bar leads him into the Green household, played by Nick Marini, adds a destabilizing charge to the night, using quick, reactive movement and an agile sense of timing to tilt the dynamic just enough to expose the deeper fractures beneath the couple’s carefully maintained surface.

Their combined work is strengthened by the breadth of experience each actor brings to the stage. Colantoni’s long career in film and television, including standout turns in Veronica Mars and Galaxy Quest, gives his performance a steady, lived in weight. Spence, a Chicago mainstay with a Jeff Award and recent visibility in The Madison, brings sharp focus and emotional clarity to Lucy. Marini adds a younger charge to the trio, drawing on credits like Cobra Kai and Dropout TV to shape a presence that subtly disrupts the relationship dynamic.

The action unfolds inside a tastefully appointed luxury home crafted by scenic designer Paul Tate DePoo III, who gives the Greens a space that gleams with success without ever feeling sterile. A streamlined bar sits at the rear of the room, and the warm finishes, refined furnishings, and subtle touches make the environment inviting rather than ostentatious - a polished retreat that still feels lived in. It’s the kind of setting that should radiate comfort and control, yet under Alexander’s direction it gradually sharpens, its clean lines and curated surfaces taking on a quiet tension as the night begins to break down.

Alexander’s own trajectory mirrors that same level of craft, extending far beyond the stage. Although Jason Alexander is widely known for his television work on Seinfeld and film roles ranging from Pretty Woman to Shallow Hal, he brings none of that celebrity shorthand to Fault. Instead, his decades in front of the camera seem to refine his instincts behind the table. His sense of timing, character shaping, and emotional pacing reflect the precision of someone who has lived inside stories of every scale. It’s a résumé that could easily overshadow a production, yet here it deepens his approach, grounding the play’s volatility in choices that feel thoughtful rather than showy.

Running just ninety minutes without an intermission, Fault maintains a tight, steady pulse that matches the tightening chamber of its late-night unraveling. Chicago Shakespeare Theater presents the world premiere through May 26, offering audiences a sharply observed look at a marriage pushed past its breaking point. What stays with you isn’t only the tension or the humor, but the clarity of the production itself, which recognizes how a single, seismic domestic shift can rattle everything a couple has built, sending shockwaves through a foundation that once seemed unshakeable.

Highly recommended.

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

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

Everyone encounters many crossroads in their lives, where they make a choice that determines the future…and many people live to regret it. That is where Dawn, the protagonist of Out Here, the new musical receiving its premiere at Court Theatre finds herself. Unlike most people, however, her realization does not come in a quiet moment of reflection, but just as she and her husband, Brian, and 15-year-old daughter, Cleo, have discovered that they have a band and an audience. It’s a lot, and the extremely metatheatrical musical reflects the chaos well. While there are drawbacks to the format, including the impossibility of fully developing most of the characters, the one-act musical by Leslie Buxbaum (book and lyrics) and Erin McKeown (music and lyrics), based on a concept by Buxbaum, McKeown and David J. Levin, is an entertaining and often moving reflection on personal choices and the people they affect.

Breaking the fourth wall is a hallmark of musical theater, and metatheatrical reflections on the musical being performed are also not uncommon these days, but Out Here takes these conceits to a new level. And that, arguably, is what makes it work so well. The characters must learn how to respond to the fact that they are living their lives in a musical as they navigate the changes in their family structure. The musical form proves to be a convenient way to condense the journey into an evening for the benefit of the audience that comes with it. It also provides a metaphor for the families’ (there are several) journeys from fumbling with new relationships and legal and geographic uncertainty to settling into the rhythms of new lives. The music reflects the jarring awkwardness of both the unexpected performance and the fallout of Dawn’s announcement that her “here” is no longer where she wants to be. As they get more comfortable with both performance and marital differences, the characters begin to exploit their access to a band—and apparently new-found guitar skills—to sing their own songs and share their emotions with each other and the audience. Buxbaum and McKeown toy with breaking the rules of musical theater, allowing characters to exit to the green room and the lobby and to directly address the band and audience. When a mediator is needed, he enters from the band and introduces potential shared custody options in song—a song that that Cleo recognizes from a friend’s experience (and wonders if she could get a puppy, too). Director Chay Yew wisely trusts the material and allows characters and audience to just keep up—no unnecessary scene changes or projections indicating changes in setting—making for a fast-paced exploration of relationships, time, and what’s important in a life. It’s occasionally messy or unfulfilled, but always compelling.

Photo of Alex Goodrich, Ellie Duffey, and Becca Ayers in Out Here at Court Theatre. Phot by Michael Brosilow.

Despite all the metatheatrical machinations, Out Here has an easy-to-follow plot and a singular protagonist. This is Dawn’s story, and the character uses this to her advantage, controlling both the narrative and the other characters as much as possible—though neither musicals nor reality allow for time travel, not that Dawn doesn’t try. While passionately pursuing the life that she wants (and simultaneously trying to figure out what that means), Dawn could quickly become grating, as she seems to be surrounded by good options and supportive friends and family, plus a band. Fortunately, Becca Ayers brings lightness and self-awareness to the role, as well as the ability to belt out power ballads and harmonize with her partners in multiple musical genres. Cliff Chamberlain as Brian plays to his strengths as a mostly non-musical actor—and his voice works well for the folksy guitar serenades that Brian chooses as his musical medium. He is charming and initially almost overly forbearing but grows stronger as he realizes that he has been given an opportunity that he is not willing to give up. As their daughter, Cleo, Ellie Duffey is charismatic and complicated, thrilled to have an audience, wanting to support her parents, but irritated that she is being left out of the decision-making. When she finally gets a song, it’s a propulsive punk declaration that is a necessary release. Bethany Thomas as Robin, Dawn’s ex-girlfriend who reluctantly reenters Dawn’s life, is uncompromising and vulnerable, wanting to rekindle their relationship, but justifiably apprehensive, and her dynamic voice is perfect to convey both her character’s surety about what she needs, and her fear that she might be disappointed again. Thomas’s comic timing also complements Robin’s sarcasm.

Alex Goodrich brings charm and flair to the most musical-theater role of the musical, Martin—he’s in the band! He’s the mediator! He’s the BFF! He can be anything you want him to be, keep the tempo and find the right accompaniment. Though not personally invested, his empathetic performance ingratiates him to both the family and the audience. Also, part of the familial rebuild are Gina, the woman Brian begins dating and Jett, Robin’s grown child. They, too, get swept up in the musical, but they do not have their own songs (maybe if there were a second act?), though they manage to hold their own in the musical/slash family drama they have entered. Amanda Pulcini brings a grounded humor and composure to the most awkward of situations Gina finds herself in. The fact that Jett’s entrance is often introduced with the ominous phrase “the plot thickens” is ironic, since Jett, as played by Z Mowry, is amiable and understanding, someone who seems like a good person to have as a friend, and usually offers sound advice that helps the plot along.

The musical and the cast get top-notch support from the designers and musicians. Co-orchestrator (with Erin McKeown), conductor, and keyboard player Christie Chiles Twillie backs up the vocals and underscores the book perfectly, keeping the tempos tight and the volume attuned to the singers and the script. Breon Arzell’s movement adds controlled chaos, matching the verbal humor and tension with apt but unintrusive movement. Scenic Designers Andrew Boyce and Lauren M. Nichols have created a musical-scale proscenium out of roof beams that mirror the moods of the home’s inhabitants, with a large but cozy interior and expansive outside. Sound designer Lee Fiskness integrates sound effects with the music to mesh the sounds of home with the beats of the band. The musicians make it seem possible to suddenly have a life become a musical, moving easily between styles, “acting” in response to the cast and swelling instrumental lines for onstage instruments.

Whether one likes Out Here will probably depend on one’s tolerance for stories of privileged people choosing between multiple good options surrounded by understanding friends and family. However, there is no denying that using a DIY musical to represent the struggles of a family trying to deal with change is a resonant metaphor, and the music captures some common challenges in fresh and thought-provoking ways. The book by Leslie Buxbaum explores the joy and tension of familial and other relationships with compassion and a great deal of humor. Erin McKeown’s music (with lyrics by Buxbaum and McKeown) allows the audience to get to know the characters and share moments from years of their lives in around 90 minutes (the magic of “theater time”). Chay Yew’s production is fast-paced, uncluttered, funny, moving, and thoughtful. Though Out Here wisely avoids trying to tie up all loose ends, it leaves the audience with a lot of good questions to ponder.

Out Here runs through May 10 at Court Theatre, Wed/Thurs/Fri at 7:30pm, Sat/Sun at 2:00pm & 7:30pm.

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

Get ready - those phones are about to explode, and Sam is already spinning like a top trying to catch every single one. It’s a full‑blown ring‑storm, and he’s diving into it with the hectic energy of someone who knows the chaos is coming and still can’t outrun it.

A brisk, razor‑funny powder keg of a play, Fully Committed tracks a single frantic day in the life of Sam, the lone reservationist at one of Manhattan’s most elite - and most impossible - restaurant. Becky Mode’s script is a full‑tilt high‑wire act, and Mike Newquist tears across nearly forty characters with the kind of breakneck precision that makes your head spin. As Sam, he’s already a live wire - but then he’s also snapping into entitled celebrities, neurotic assistants, tyrannical chefs, and every flavor of fine‑dining madness that dares to ring his desk. It’s dazzling, anxious, and wildly fun to watch him juggle it all without ever dropping the thread. The comedy snaps because each character is so sharply etched, and Newquist seamlessly shifts among them with the kind of finesse that turns mayhem into art.

At its heart, the nearly 90-minute play gleefully skewers the rituals of status and the agitated, almost feral hunger for exclusivity, exposing just how ridiculous people become when a reservation turns into a badge of power. Sam becomes the unseen fulcrum of that world, and his day unravels from merely hectic to outright surreal as he absorbs tantrums, negotiates impossible demands, and fights to keep a grip on his own sense of worth. Watching Newquist as Sam behind that reservation desk in a constant tinderbox had me instantly aware that I wouldn’t survive two hours in his shoes. His frantic charm and barely contained panic sells the chaos and sparks a whole new respect for the people who actually thrive in that kind of daily combustion.

Fully Committed lands as hard as it does because it’s rooted in real industry absurdity. Mode shaped these characters straight out of real restaurant‑world encounters, giving the show a mix of satirical whirlwind and a bite of truth that feels both sharply recognizable and wickedly real.

Throughout the play, I loved how Sam’s dad kept slipping into the heavy commotion with that gentle, grounding voice - just long enough to let the whole room exhale. Each time he called, Sam’s entire demeanor flipped in an instant; you could watch him go from frazzled to peaceful like someone had hit a reset switch. Those brief check-ins made it clear how a few steady words from a gentle, supportive father (or friend/family member) can cut straight through the noise, offering a tiny pocket of calm even when everything else is burning down around him.

Mike Newquist is pure kinetic joy onstage, delivering a commanding turn in Fully Committed. The Chicago‑based actor and improviser thrives in the city’s storefront trenches, bouncing between sharp‑edged comedy, character chameleon work, and the kind of ensemble disorder where anything can - and usually does - happen. He’s popped up with PrideArts, AstonRep, and The Comrades, tackling everything from contemporary drama to high-velocity comic mayhem. In Fully Committed, it’s his quick‑switch agility that makes him a blast to watch.

Directed by Derek Bertelsen, this Chicago staging arrives with a jolt of fresh energy and real immediacy. Newquist’s performance becomes the engine that drives the whole night, while Bertelsen keeps the momentum razor‑sharp, the pacing tight, and every character shift snapping cleanly into place.

The Den Theatre hosts the run March 13–28, 2026, with performances on Friday and Saturday nights at 7:30 p.m. Tickets for Fully Committed at The Den Theatre are just $26. For tickets and/or any more show information, click here.

Recommended.

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

Just in time for Halloween comes Hell in a Handbag’s The Golden Girls: Bea Afraid! The play’s name itself probably tips most off that audiences will be in for one helluva ride. Handbag found much success in the past couple of years creating their own hysterical episodes of The Golden Girls, Vol 1 was extended twice and moved to a larger theater while Vol 2 also made waves. So, a Halloween special featuring our four favorite seniors – why not?

Artistic Director David Cerda and company are working double time right now performing in Artificial Jungle at 7:30 p.m. (through October 28th) followed by Bea Afraid! at 10:30 p.m. To say this theatre company works hard is an understatement. And one thing is for sure – there’s a whole lot of funny in each production.

Bea Afraid! gives us two Halloweeny episodes, the first a clever whodunit that gets sillier by the second (that’s a good thing) followed by a demon possession that you will never forget. As laughter-filled as the second episode was, my friend walked away saying, “That actually kind of scared me.” So, laughs and scares – the best of both worlds – the treat followed by the trick. Between scenes Golden Girls trivia is held and tongue-and-cheek prizes are handed over to the lucky winners, such as the lady who sat in front of me that was handed a tube of anti-itch crème. How well do you know the gals?

Cerda returns as Dorothy displaying the same dominance over the role that helped make Vol 1 such a smash hit while Ed Jones reprises his role as Rose and commands a laugh just about every time a line is delivered. Adrian Hadlock also rejoins the cast and again nails the role of Dorothy’s razor-sharp witted mother, Sophia. Grant Drager is ever so saucy as our beloved, loose-legged, Blanche, a role that AJ Wright played so well in the first of the hilarious franchise. The cast is rounded out by such brilliantly humorous talents as Chazie Bly, Michael S. Miller, Michael Rashad, Duane W. Taylor, Robert Williams and Maureen SanDiego, who stars as the evening’s hostess.

Created by David Cerda and directed by Becca Holloway, this is a Halloween show not to be missed. Handbag gets another feather in their cap for yet another hysterical production, leaving us to eagerly await the next Golden Girls adventures - please say there will be more!

The Golden Girls: Bea Afraid! Is being performed at Stage 773 through November 2nd. For tickets and/or more show information visit www.handbagproductions.org.

It goes something like this:

“Sit down, relax and squeeze the two cans in front of you”

The cans are wired to a funky gizmo where a needle gauges one’s activity on a meter based on their responses to questions asked.

“Tell us about a pleasant memory you’ve had.”

“Give us another pleasant memory.”

"Explain."

“Tell us another pleasant memory that made you happy.”

"Explain."

“Tell us something that made you sad.”

“Explain.”

“Give us another memory that made you sad.”

“Explain”

The examination goes on and on and on and on until finally, “Okay. Your needle is floating”. Yay! That’s a good thing when on the path to going clear.

Disguised as a healing procedure, this probing is an ongoing process used in the Church of Scientology to basically infiltrate one’s state of mind and, well, obtain secrets.

In Cathy Schenkelberg’s one-woman show “Squeeze My Cans”, we get an inside look at one of the most bizarre religions that is not only shocking, it is down-right hilarious at times. Providing real life memories of her years in Scientology, Schenkelberg reveals a world that is almost hard to believe, truly defining the phrase “truth is stranger than fiction”. This autobiographical solo-play, written and performed by Schenkelberg, is beautifully pieced together and recounts her story from the time she was recruited into Scientology through her departure from the organization many years later.

Animated and heartfelt, the long-time voice over actress shares intimate stories during her search for spiritual freedom (a goal that of course is never attained unless money is paid to proceed to the next level). Her stories include holding auditions to be Tom Cruise’s girlfriend, blindly sending her daughter off with strangers in a van, alien spirits that dwell in volcanoes, a bizarre encounter with J.T. (that’s John Travolta) and plenty others that one would be hard-pressed to believe. Presented as a tale of warning, Schenkelberg flawlessly delivers her message while not allowing for a single dull moment. 

In “Squeeze My Cans”, we are keenly presented with the sad tale of someone who was susceptible while searching for a higher purpose who, rather than finding fulfillment, was taken for the ride of a lifetime. Though one comical story is told after another and laughs are recurrently heard, we certainly feel for its author and the plethora of others who have been taken advantage of by what is exposed in this play as nothing more than a giant hoax. Based on L. Ron Hubbard’s book Dianetics, we get an unbelievable sneak peek at this nonsensical religion, its manipulating prowess and its nearly unbreakable hold on its loyal subjects – emotionally and financially. Schenkelberg’s message is simple – stay away!  

But Schenkelberg is a survivor and we can’t help but feel elation at the fact that she was ultimately able to find it within herself to break away. This implausible journey is very well-written and superbly performed with brilliantly executed back and forth dialogue as Schenkelberg interacts with the many characters involved. Plenty of touching moments are mixed in with the show’s humor, making this a nicely balanced production that is as engrossing as it is informative.  

Directed wonderfully by Shirley Anderson, “Squeeze My Cans” is an amazing show with firsthand accounts of the peculiar that you really need to hear to believe. If you missed this this uniquely written and performed show last July, now is your chance to catch it this time around. "Squeeze My Cans" is being performed once again at Greenhouse Theater Center, this time through March 19th. For tickets and/or more show information visit www.greenhousetheater.org.