Theater: Undone
Playwright: cin salach
At: About Face Theater, 3212 N. Broadway,
Tickets: $22-$25; Phone: 773-549-3290
Runs through: Nov. 18
by Rick Reed
I think I'm in love with cin salach, the Chicago performance poet around whom About Face's season opener, Undone, is built. This world premiere marriage of music, poetry, and movement centers on her artistic and sexual awakening. A soulful piece, comprised of about a dozen engaging components, would never have worked so well without cin salach at their center. Her face, her smile, are so warm and open that one is immediately drawn into her story, charmed by her depth, and completely won over by the universality contained within.
Undone is, in essence, a journey. It's a journey of the mind, spirit, and body. And even though its taut 80-minute run ranges from tender ballads, gut-wrenching poetry, wise humor, and spirited music ( supplied by the omnipresent and omnipotent musical team of Andre Pluess and Ben Sussman ) , the show is ultimately a very clear-cut progression. We watch the growth of the artist and the lesbian and empathize with the triumphs and heartaches that make up salach's journey—a journey that, like any in life, is still far from complete. From childhood crushes, to the first stirrings of lust, from missteps in romance to jubilation and heartache, we can step back and appreciate this woman's growth, because we've all been there. Ultimately, Undone is about sharing. Who can't empathize with discovery, first love, lust, rejection, and the joy of sharing these pitfalls and victories with others through some means of self-expression?
Director Eric Rosen is wise enough to stage this production simply, on a circular stage of bare floorboards, elevated above a floor of crushed sea glass, with simple changes in light ( by Darin Keesing ) , representing shifts in mood and tone. Rosen lets his performers shine, and he's selected a talented ensemble to bring to life salach's words and emotions. Paul Oakley Stovall has a rousing voice that sounds a baseline through this journey of the soul. Jennifer Avery is beautifully understated throughout, putting subtle shading on salach's words and surprising in her musical phrasing and clarion voice. The remainder of the ensemble, consisting of Sandra Delgado, Loretta Rezos, and Patrick Sarb, provide a convincing chorus, an emotional underline to the autobiographical tale unfolding on stage. The back-up band does a wonderful job, too, of providing a musical backdrop across which the poet's words can be written.
Undone is a joyous celebration, a thought-provoking look into the life of an artist, a woman, and most importantly, the human heart. Undone is fiercely entertaining, evocative, and true. What more could one ask for from an evening of theater? With Undone, About Face has kicked off its most promising season ever.
Book Of Days
Playwright: Lanford Wilson
At: Piven Theatre at the Noyes Arts Center, 927 Noyes Street; 847-866-8049
Tickets: $22; Runs through: Nov. 11
by Mary Shen Barnidge
Lanford Wilson's Book Of Days is a play about the ability of Art to inspire humble citizens to heroic sacrifices in the name of truth. It is also about small-town prejudice and corruption. Oh, and it's a murder mystery, too.
The locale is Dublin, Missouri—a rural community whose economy is dominated by Walter Bates' cheese factory and social life by the Reverend Bobby Groves' old-time religion. Its local theater society, however, has contracted a big-time director to stage a production of Shaw's Saint Joan. His leading lady, Ruth Hoch, works as a bookkeeper at the dairyworks where her husband, Len, is experimenting with a new product—a project that has the approval of the owner, but threatens the plans of the latter's ne'er-do-well son. One wind-swept night, the CEO dies in mysterious circumstances, and Ruth suspects foul play. Now all she needs is to find supporters willing to put aside their personal interests and believe her.
Wilson keeps his intricate narrative in order through the literary conceit of having the townspeople recount the story's events under the guidance of their guest director. ( When the straitlaced widow refuses to re-enact her indecorous devastation at the news of her husband's death, an assistant is called in to do it for her. ) This play-within-a-play structure would only further clutter the action if not for Jennifer Green's deft choreography of her 12-person ensemble, its unhurried pace allowing the actors to deliver uniformly complex portrayals of personalities easily reduced to stereotype.
Foremost is the stubbornly justice-seeking Ruth Hoch, played by Marcia Reinhard, one of Chicago's most underrated actresses. Also outstanding are Paul Dunckel's Len Hoch, Ruth's supportive but savvy husband. David Waggoner's Boyd, the urbane tinseltown fugitive. And Katherine Ruhl's Martha, an ex-flower child with the resilience of a redwood. Other cast members appear to still be searching for their characters amid Wilson's plot mechanics, but acquit themselves valiantly nonetheless.
Together with a precision-driven technical crew ( kudos to the propsperson responsible for Walter's hunting rifle ) , the Piven Theatre company forges a dramatic tension for this Chicago premiere that infuses even its silent moments with suspense and significance.
IVONA, PRINCESS OF BURGUNDIA
Playwright: Witold Gombrowicz
At: Strawdog Theatre, 3829 N. Broadway
Tickets: $15
773-528-9696; Runs through: Oct. 26
by Rick Reed
She's drooling, cotton-candy haired, nearly mute, ugly and uncoordinated. She's Ivona. And she's got the royal family in the fictional kingdom of Burgundia in an uproar. Prince Phillip ( Michael Dobbs ) wants to marry her, mainly to annoy the royal family, who want to be rid of her. The royal court waits for the prince's punchline: surely he's joking. When he can have his choice of all the comely lasses in the kingdom, why would he select this enigmatic creature, whom the prince himself describes as a "universal irritant?" Such is the cartoonish, surreal world playwright Witold Gombrowicz has thrust us into with his 1938 absurdist play. Gombrowicz, who is seldom produced here, is understandably well known in Eastern Europe, where he is revered as a master of the medium. This reverence is understandable, because Ivona, Princess of Burgundia has a lot going for it, even if it is, at its core, intellectual and requires some thought on the audience's part. But this play is genuinely funny and its message is accessible. Part of the credit for the script's success lies with director Kirsten Kelly, who manages to hit all the right notes, creating a world that's off kilter, and bringing a talented ensemble to its thespian best: they're all grotesque and over-the-top, but Kelly is wise enough to make her world recognizable and endows its people with universal traits.
One of the principal questions, for audiences and characters alike, in Ivona is this: why does Prince Phillip want to marry her? Ivona ( played with astonishing creativity and credibility by Stacy Parker ) is hideous, awkward, strange, and totally immune to the social norms of the world around her. Part of the answer lies in the prince's boredom. At one point, he explains, "I am not taking her because I have too little. I'm taking her because I have too much." The prince, with his mercurial moods and his arrogance, predictably enough soon grows bored with the novelty of Ivona and wants to move on. But she has fallen in love with him. And Ivona, strange as she is, is strangely resolute.
The story works as an indictment of the bourgeoisie. The playwright made Ivona so bizarre not to laugh at her, but to point out how everyone around her, really, is even more bizarre. And even though she's silent, Ivona's influence shows as her presence causes the royal hegemony to crumble, her peculiarity bringing out past secrets and the worst in everyone. By the end, even though she succumbs to the murderous machinations of those around her, Ivona has literally and figuratively brought the entire cast of characters to their knees.
Straw Dog has scored a triumph with this one. Ivona is intelligent, wickedly funny and features an assemblage of gifted actors, most prominently Jennifer Engstrom as the Queen, Tim Curtis as Lord Chamberlain, and Kyle Hamman as Simon. Lindsay Jones' sound work adds to director Kelly's off-kilter universe, and Michelle Caplan's set design pulls the double punch of being economical and evocative at the same time.
Ivona, Princess of Burgundia, is the kind of work we need to see more of in Chicago. Intelligent, entertaining, thought provoking, and funny: what more could one ask for?
YOU NEVER KNOW
Playwright: Cole Porter, Rowland Leigh, Paul Lazarus
At: Light Opera Works Second Stage, 1420 Maple, Evanston; Tickets: $24-$39
847-869-6300; Runs through: Nov. 11
by Jonathan Abarbanel
While American drama of the 1930s supported the serious work of O'Neill, Odets, Wilder, Paul Osborn, etc., musical theater remained escapist fluff, dependent on great scores and skilled song-and-dance stars who often could carry a show with personal comedy shtick ( think Bert Lahr and Bobby Clark ) . Dating from 1938, You Never Know is typical. Even then, the romantic farce of an aristocrat and servant who trade places was old hat. Then or now, the only reasons for it are to showcase a brilliant comic as Gaston, the valet and the Cole Porter score. This revival at Light Opera Works doesn't have a brilliant comedian in the lead. To say that Henry Michael Odum as Gaston is pleasant, pretty good, gives it his best shot and has his moments—all of which are true—is to damn with faint praise. But that's the truth about Odum and the entire cast, who work very hard but don't have the requisite light-as-air deftness, appearing forced rather than spontaneous. James Rank comes closest. A Light Opera Works regular, Rank makes the womanizing Baron a charming and graceful fellow.
Except when he dances. Choreographer Katrina Williams' clever but simple steps can't conceal that none of the six players are dancers, in a show begging for tap and soft-shoe pros. The dance sequences are laborious, abetted by director Michael Kotze's compulsion to fill every moment of each up-tempo number with fussy business. Constant motion isn't necessary. Sometimes it's better to let a performer just stand and deliver
Musical values always have come first at Light Opera Works, and You Never Know is much better in that regard. Not considered a great Cole Porter score, it nonetheless boasts the marvelous patter of "Let's Not Talk About Love," "From Alpha to Omega" and "Let's Misbehave," plus the romantic standards "At Long Last Love" and "Ridin' High." They are well-delivered by the company, with Odum reaching his zenith on the tongue-twisting "Let's Not Talk About Love." Only "Ridin' High" gets lost, a jazz duet overwhelmed by stage business. Musical director Dana Brown ( one of two scintillating pianists ) eliminates the usual Cole Porter encores, reducing most songs to intro, one chorus and one or two verses, perhaps in the interest of time.
The physical production benefits from the colorful character commentary of Kim Fencl Rak's costumes, and the creamy, art deco setting of Jan Lavacek, although a center stage chaise lounge becomes an obstacle during those tortured dance numbers.
If not the theatrical bon-bon it might be, You Never Know is a sweet show, produced by Light Opera Works with its customary stylistic integrity.
OVER THE TAVERN
Playwright: Tom Dudzik
At: Northlight Theater, North Shore Center for the Performing Arts, 9501 Skokie Blvd., Skokie Tickets: $32-$45
847-673-6300; Runs through: Nov. 11
by Rick Reed
One of the children in this feel-good "memory play" set in 1959 pines: "Couldn't we have Robert Young for one day?" The child is referring to life with his father, a rather brutish man ( Craig Spidle ) , who is quick to lose his temper, and slow to show affection. The line encapsulates a lot of things about this nostalgic comedy-drama: the wisdom of the kids, the influence of the burgeoning entertainment medium of television ( Father Knows Best ) , and the darker side of family life, under the uneven, but iron-fisted rule of their father.
Playwright Tom Dudzik's Over the Tavern tries to be a lot of things in its a little over two-hour course: a family drama that showcases how emotional abuse can be inherited throughout generations, a plea for letting children find their own way, an exploration of faith, a "kids say the darndest things" comedy. In its portrayal of Pazinski family, who inhabit a Brooklyn apartment "over the tavern" owned by the family, the play tries valiantly to recreate a more innocent time, and to create characters with whom we can identify, or at least care about. In addition to Dad, there's the wise, long-suffering mother, Ellen ( Suellen Burton ) , horny adolescent eldest son, Eddie ( James McKay ) , troubled and sexually awakening daughter, Annie ( Katie Korby ) , and the center of the play, Rudy ( a very talented Bobby Anderson ) , who's full of mischief, creativity, and doubt about his Catholic faith. There's also the pointless addition of a retarded son, Georgie ( Ross Harris—given the thankless role of standing around grinning and exclaiming "Hey!" and "Shit!" ) . The problem with all of this is that none of it has much of an edge, and all of it is stale. Other than a tiny spark from Rudy, all of the characters are unoriginal; we've seen them all before, in countless family dramas and books. The story, revolving around middle son Rudy's crisis of faith and his refusal to go through with the Catholic rite of passage, confirmation, isn't very interesting or compelling. We never see the source of Rudy's motivation.
But the worst thing about this production is how it's wrapped up. Its conclusion is tidy, pat, and totally unbelievable. The second act is about half as long as the first and each character's dilemma is wrapped up in a matter of minutes. If only real life were so easy! And this play, that attempts to create an honest portrayal of real life, fails miserably because it doesn't want to do the work it takes to get to a credible conclusion. It was almost as though the playwright got tired of writing the story, and just decided to wrap everything up with an insulting finish—insulting to the integrity of his characters and insulting to the intelligence of the audience.
I'm surprised that Northlight chose this piece as their season opener. It has none of the creative spark and fire of past productions: plays like Experiment with an Air Pump, Bee-Luther-Hatchee, or How I Learned to Drive. Over The Tavern, at best, belongs in a small community theater, if anywhere at all. Its insipid plotting and "nostalgia for nostalgia" cheats both the audience and the talented ensemble and production people behind it of any kind of payoff.
AN EVENING OF 3 ONE-ACT PLAYS
Playwrights: W.B. Yeats, Oscar Wilde, A.A. Milne At: Tinfish Theatre, 4247 N. Lincoln
Tickets: $17.50
Phone: 773-549-1888
Runs through Nov. 3
by Rick Reed
The concept here is simple: to present three short plays by three renowned British writers, Yeats, Wilde, and Milne. Officially titled, 3 One-Act Plays from the Isles, the tiny Tinfish Theater Company brings to economical and competent life works that range from the eerie to the broadly farcical. This is the beginning of the storefront company's eighth season, and this production is testimony to why this little company has been able to survive this long, on the competitive playing field that comprises Chicago theater. Although the show lacks the spark of genius and is decidedly uneven, it remains an entertaining evening, one that more often than not, fails to disappoint and delivers on the promise of these great literary minds. Director Daniel Floss puts his mostly hardworking and inspired cast through their paces deftly and keeps the entire enterprise running with nary a hitch.
The first one act, by poet W.B. Yeats, is called Cathleen Ni Houlihan and it brings to life a small domestic scene, the forthcoming marriage of the eldest son of an Irish peasant family and puts it in a global context: the upcoming threat of war. Amy Harmon and Jon Frazier play the parents here and their work is credible, even if they are both too young for their roles. As the soon-to-be betrothed son, Michael, Sean Paul Bennet is convincing until the part where the play takes an eerie turn—then he becomes something very similar to a zombie, when Yeats probably intended for this character to replace the fire of love with a different kind of obsession. The play takes a chilling turn when it veers from its pedestrian talk of nuptials and dowries, and changes to mystery, with the arrival of an old woman at the modest family home. It becomes clear that she is a harbinger of war and she is there to seduce the eldest son away from marriage and into fighting for her cause. There's an air of doom and magic about the play that both cast and director manage to convey very effectively.
The second piece, A Florentine Tragedy, by Oscar Wilde, is amusing in a wicked way that only Oscar Wilde can be. A prince and a salesman's wife are caught in an act of imminent intimacy by the wife's husband, who, instead of initially being outraged at this scene of near infidelity, uses the occasion to try and sell his wares to a deep-pocketed buyer. As the wife ( played hilariously by Stephanie Repin ) becomes clearly more enamored of the prince, the dense husband gradually catches on that he's about to be cuckolded and the one act finishes in a dual and finally violent fisticuffs between the two men. Wilde provides a bittersweet happy end, as the occasion of jealousy, murder, and betrayal lead husband and wife to see how much they really value one another. Other than Jon Frazier's lack of comic timing and rapid-fire delivery of his lines, this piece shines as the best of the lot.
The third act, A.A. Milne's The Ugly Ducking, concerns the tale of a bumbling king, his shrewish queen and their plans to use trickery to marry off their plain daughter. In Milne's gentle royal world, confusion ensues but the playwright soon puts all to right, making common sense win out over deceit. It's a charming piece and cleverly constructed.
3 One Acts isn't great theater, but if you're looking for a skilled, inexpensive, and amusing community theater level show, you won't feel shortchanged by Tinfish's latest offering.
