One of the telltale marks of lazy playwrighting is the frequency of scripted 'What were they thinking?' moments, when the dramatis personae commit deeds that further the plot, but are utterly inconsistent with their personalities as we have been shown them. When called upon to account for their actions, the blunderers can only stammer, 'I—I don't know. I thought—maybe...', because the author hasn't contemplated their motives, either.
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Photo: Carter's Way. Playwright: Eric Simonson. At: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted. Phone: 312-335-1650; $20-$68. Runs through: April 27
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You won't find a single instance of this oversight in Eric Simonson's take on the American myth of the self-destructing jazz musician, however—in this case, set amid the racially segregated jazz venues of Kansas City in 1935. Oh, the characters may behave recklessly—when have artists or lovers ( or villains, for that matter ) ever not embraced foolish risks?—but their every move can be seen to make irrevocable sense, given each one's individual perspective. Indeed, no matter how often the doomed victims are exhorted by their peers, 'Don't be stupid,' their concern is still powerless to forestall tragedy—which, as we know, turns on the question, not of 'How?', but 'Why?'
Simonson directs a dream-team cast delivering emotionally intense, but always intelligently satisfying, performances in this Steppenwolf production. James Vincent Meredith and Anne Adams star as the color-crossed lovers united by their muse, while Keith Kupferer and Robert Breuler navigate the protocol of small-time organized crime with a refreshing lack of sensationalism. The backbone of our narrative, however, is Ora Jones' briskly efficient band manager and K. Todd Freeman's genially philosophical club owner, both of whom keep us always grounded in the practical aspects presented by their universe.
Apart from its poignant story, Carter's Way provides an insightful glimpse into the world of popular music during the 1930s, when the proliferation of remote-site radio broadcasts and cheap vinyl recordings facilitated blurring of the cultural barriers separating its consumers, though social changes reflecting this phenomenon would be a longer time coming. Composer Darrell Leonard's score reflects period accuracy commensurate with Simonson's text. Amid the ghostly atmosphere of dim lights and ( fake ) cigarette smoke, its complex riffs and changes are so skillfully hand-synced by the actors that opening-night audiences cheered the solo turns as enthusiastically as if executed live on the spot.
THEATER REVIEW
The Attempters
Playwright: Shawn Pfautsch
At: The House at Building Stages,
412 N. Carpenter
Phone: 773-251-2195; $17-$22
Runs through: April 19
BY JONATHAN ABARBANEL
This House Theatre of Chicago world premiere centers on an overachieving adolescent hero, which is very familiar turf for The House. Danny Hackles is 17, cute, energetic, precocious, infinitely resourceful and entirely self-absorbed, all of which are qualities we've seen before in heroes and heroines at The House. But cute, energetic and self-absorbed can only carry you so far, and they're wearing out their welcome. We need to have a reason to care about the characters, too, and that's a hit-or-miss proposition at The House although their best works have achieved it, among them The Sparrow and Dave DaVinci Saves the Universe ( which returns to open the troupe's 2008-2009 season ) ,
In their temporary new space at Building Stages, The House is a little more cramped than at The Viaduct but nonetheless definitely makes the space their own. They present The Attempters with such typical flourishes as living room-style seating, live music and the casual intermingling of cast and audience. The performance, too, boasts The House's usual high energy and high spirits, but even so The Attempters comes across as a light-weight work and a slighter-than-usual effort.
With seemingly unlimited access to money and means, young Danny starts a garage band, runs for public office, sets himself up as a transcendental guru, studies Italian and makes a movie in order to achieve fame—which he believes is his destiny—and impress the girl he loves. Referring to himself in the third person, he states he is 'confident in his ascendancy as avatar of the Common Man.' In so doing, he charmingly but repeatedly steps on those closest to him, even though they all tell him time and again to stop, shut up and listen—think a young, straight version of Will and Grace's Jack McFarland. Eventually he gets it after at least one repetition too many of the old, familiar pattern. When another guy hauls off and whomps Danny upside the head, I wanted to shout out 'It's about time!' Indeed, his best friend says, 'Danny, the Dalai Lama would punch you in the face.'
The Attempters is presented and performed with great charm by the ensemble cast, lead by Chris Matthews as Danny. It's a pleasant enough theatrical event, but it's dramatically slight with a thin and repetitive storyline. Playwright Shawn Pfaustch turns plenty of clever phrases and seems to have a deadpan sense of adolescence ( do 17-year-olds really have their own checking accounts? ) , but he offers so little exposition that it's not until Act II that one realizes Danny's shrink also is his father, or that Danny declares that finding fame is his life goal. The Attempters is a simple case of teenage puppy love meets situation comedy.