Playwrights: Andrew Pepoy and Mark Yonally
At: Chicago Tap Theatre at the Athenaeum, 2936 N. Southport
Phone: 773-935-6860; $15-$25
Runs through: July 29
BY MARY SHEN BARNIDGE
Unlike ballet, where the movement tells the story, tap dancing is usually considered an adjunct to, but no substitute for, narration. Chicago Tap Theatre disagrees. While it might employ a few verbal aids—Brechtian locating-projections and comic-strip voice balloons—the predominant language spoken in this science-fiction action-adventure 'dance opera' is podiatric percussion invoking all the passion-driven excitement of flamenco.
The scenario involves a scientific experiment conducted on convicts that accidentally results in a pair of female thugs whose nimble hoofing can control time, thus permitting them to, literally, slo-mo their victims to death. Their creator promptly enlists the aid of these Frankensteins to mount a campaign of petty theft. Following one of their rampages, however, a meek sociology student survives to discover that she has, herself, contracted the destructive power. Will the newly-christened Hourglass find the courage to use her reluctantly-acquired talent to defeat the techno-bullies? And can she do it in time to rescue her boyfriend, taken hostage by the steel-shod terpsichorean terrorists?
The score of pop music ( embracing such diverse artists as Siouxsie and the Banshees, Kate Havnevik and Shiny Toy Guns ) that accompanies the 12 scenes comprising this 90-minute entertainment convey a major part of the emotional subtext, but choreographer Mark Yonally is not about to let his cast act with their lower bodies only. From Kendra Jorstad's valiant Hourglass ( whose sidekick is cleverly dubbed 'The Second Hand' ) to Peter Hammer's clueless Patrolman Nick to the evilicious trio of Sarah Dahnke, Stacy Milam and Jenna Deidel—playing archvillains Killjoy, Danse Macabre and The Conductor—you won't see a blank Balanchine face anywhere on the stage.
Or in the audience, either. As Yonally reminds us, this is not your white-tutu orchesis, but big, noisy, vigorous, stomp-and-shout spectacle to make the tiny studio floor visibly buckle under the impact of each thundering step. That said, whoever would have guessed that such eloquent nuance could spring from so unlikely a medium as toe-taps and wing-jumps? Come and meet those prancing feet, cheer the good guys, boo the bad, and marvel at the resiliency of the Chicago Tap artists who smile and sweat with such dazzling élan.