The Yellow Rose Theatre is one of Chicago’s newer venues, having launched in 2020 during Covid, with a company that demonstrates a passion for their work. Located at The Vault, an entertainment space at 607 W. Fulton, it is just a couple blocks east of the trendy Fulton Market District, in the restored Fulton Jefferson Building. An unusual split-level design that lends itself to conventional and immersive theater. 

Yellow Rose numbers 10 ensemble members, and an equal number of guest actors and playwrights, including Francis Brady, whose “Justicia” is nearing the end of its run. Tickets include access to an open bar and finger food, and audience members may mingle and gnosh before each performance and during intermissions—giving the shows a unique flair and sense of communality with the productions.(We saw "TV Land" there in May.)

Directed by Kieran O’Connor, Brady’s “Justicia,” while a bit uneven, has the heart of a solid play. A courtroom drama, it centers on the travails of a small town litigator Pappa (Rick Yacobnis) whose daughter (Katherine Wetterman) has left her own successful practice in Chicago to join his struggling firm—struggling because he takes on underdog cases regardless of the client’s ability to pay. He has relied on a line of credit from the local bank where the loan officer has a heart and has kept him afloat.

The first act opens in a courtroom hearing presided over by a Judge (Jorge Salas) as the plaintiff Ron (Joseph Arvo Levander) argues that he was wrongfully discharged and demands as a remedy that he be reinstated. The employer’s defense counsel (Madeline Diego) offers a modest cash settlement, but her client doesn’t want Ron back, deeming him no longer able to handle the jackhammer used in his work.

That summary is not difficult to extract from the action, but the presentation of this story was hampered by a number of things, beginning with the lack of a set, which caused the judge to sit below and look up at the lawyers arguing the case.

Pappa laces his arguments with Shakespere quotes, which might be okay but seem largely unrelated to the matters at hand. And for a public immersed in courtroom procedurals on streaming channels, the informality and departure from expected court protocols works against the believability. Lots of exposition and character building takes place in subsequent scenes, with the appearance of the daughter’s budding love-interest (Sophia Vitello), and father-daughter talks. But the first act is rather a muddle.

The second act puts the play on a more solid footing, opening with a new, young Bank Officer (Joe Bushell) who is all business as Poppa arrives to plead for an extension on the line of credit. The Bank Officer parries handily Poppa’s arguments that the bank should continue to fund this “practice with a heart.”

Bushell’s performance is the most solid of the cast, he’s a real pro and redeems the script somehow, suggesting the writing is a reach for the other performers, or that Brady is good at writing bank officer characters.

Lavender plays Ron very well, but is given little to work with, fated to repeat “I want my job back” endlessly. Levander’s voice and action convey the anguish of a late middle aged worker made redundant. He finally says “I want to work,” and “I want a paycheck”— in other words, be a useful and productive citizen. Brady could give us, and the character, more to say about his anguish.

Pappa is going through that same generational challenge as his daughter works to straighten out the firm’s finances, and takes on Jim's case to rescue it after Pappa, in an ill-advised move, has Ron demonstrate his ability with the jackhammer before the judge. (Unfortunately he drops it.)

So if you’re game to see it, “Justicia” runs November 9 and 11 at Yellow Rose Theatre. I’m going back to the venue to see The Yellow Rose’s “Thank God It’s Monday” or “T.G.I.M.” running November 10 and 11, a series of comic shorts in an immersive show. Both shows include eats and drinks. Tickets are at yellowrosetheatre.com 

Laugh-out-loud funny, “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife” from an award-winning script by Robert Busch, is an entertaining domestic comedy in the vein of Neil Simon, very Jewish New York humor. MadKap Productions, which has moved to the Skokie Theatre with this show, has given it a top-notch treatment, with an elegant, very finished set—an expensively furnished co-op apartment on Riverside Drive in Manhattan.

There we find Marjorie Taub (Julie Stevens) suffering mightily on a settee, from a headache brought on by angst over whether her intellectual aspirations (she spends all her time attending heady lectures, museums, and reads Nietsche and Herman Hesse) are all for naught. “I’m just a peasant from the shtetl," she says. "I should be plowing the earth.”

All the while her sympathetic doorman, Mohammed (Ravi Kalani) is installing a designer light fixture he pulled from storage while uttering supportive counters to Marjorie’s self-loathing whines. Her woes are increased by her aging mother, Frieda (Amy Ticho), who lives down the hall, but visits constantly to moan about her bowl movements in graphic detail, between cutting remarks that buttress Marjorie’s self-hatred.

The allergist, Dr. Ira Taub (Peter Leondedis), recently retired and living a self-congratulatory life of helping student doctors, and indigent allergy sufferers in the inner city, tries to comfort Marjorie as well. But it is the arrival of Lee (Aimee Kleiman), a long lost childhood friend, that throws a monkey-wrench in this reliably operating den of neuroses. Directed by Goodman-alum Steve Scott, all this angst-ridden suffering is delivered with line after line of humorous commentary and throwaway jokes.

But as its vaguely Chaucerian name suggests, “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife” is at bottom a morality tale. After a crescendo of crises brought on by Lee, who squats in the apartment and turns out to be quite a gifted grifter, we get a resolution capped with a summary of the moral of the show. So the core of the comedy is dampened a tad in moments when it departs from the humor, to level a dose of somewhat heavy handed preachiness.

Don’t get me wrong, this script is good, and the performances earnest and skillful, with Aimee Kleiman as Lee a cut above (she reminded me of Julie Louis Dreyfus in Seinfeld). But overall the pacing seems slow, and the cast labored over lines that might be funnier if delivered faster and more off-hand. In comedy, it’s all in the timing. Set design is by Wayne Mell (he also does promotion and the house was full), with lighting by Pat Henderson, and truly excellent costumes are by Wendy Kaplan, who also produces the show for MadKap Productions.

Nominated in 2000 during its two-year Broadway for three Tony Awards (it won a Drama Desk Award), “TheTale of the Allergist’s Wife” is a good play well-delivered. It runs through Nov 19, 2023, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm, and Sundays at 2:00 pm, with one Wed. matinee on Nov 15 at 1:30 pm at the Skokie Theatre, a renovated 1912 movie house that is a gem of a performance space.

“Young Frankenstein,” a live stage musical version of Mel Brooks hysterical 1974 comedy film, is an absolute hoot in its new production at Chicago’s intimate Mercury Theatre on Southport.

WIth priceless comic bits, great costumes, dancing, and singing that is notably excellent, “Young Frankenstein” is underpinned by a bullet-proof script adapted from the movie, which in my estimation is Mel Brooks’ funniest.

If you haven’t seen the film, then you will especially be in stitches in this spin-off of the classic 19th century Mary Shelley tale Frankenstein’s monster, a cadaver brought to life with disastrous consequences. Mel Brook’s version brings us the American grandson of Dr. Frankenstein (Sean Fortunato)—also a medical doctor—who travels to Transylvania on inheriting the castle and infamous laboratory that generated the original monster.

This musical at the Mercury (like Brooks’ film) spoofs the three 1930s Frankenstein films, with their overheated melodrama and exaggerated horror.

“Young Frankenstein” happens to be the Chicago premiere of a 2017 London version, revised from the Broadway musical of 2007. The recount of so many hilarious moments from the film are extended by the music and dance. The score is a satisfying pastiche of some classic showtunes. “There Is Nothing Like a Brain” for example, samples South Pacific's “There Is Nothing Like a Dame” In parts, with other musical motifs patched in too.

What is most astounding, though, is how good the singing, dancing, and musical performances are at this Mercury Theater production. Soprano Isabella Andrews, who plays Dr. Frankenstein’s voluptuous lab assistant Inga, brings an operetta-worthy voice; and likewise mezzo-soprano Lillian Castillo, who plays Dr. Frankenstein’s uptight fiance Elizabeth. And still they are as funny as all get out.

Also notable: bass-baritone Jonah D. Winston as Inspector Kemp, a Strangelovian character with a wooden arm, and leg, and flawless comic timing. (Winston’s 2021 performance was galvanizing in Theater Wit’s Mr. Burns.) Even the Monster (Andrew McNaughton), limited to howls and moans when faced with fire, turns out to have a remarkable voice, in a show-stopping number at the end.

Particularly entertaining are the roles of the housekeeper, Frau Blucher (Mary Robin Roth), and the hunchbacked Igor (Ryan Stajmiger), garnering incredible laughter with their many signature punchlines and bits. Even the wigs (Keith Ryan) deserve a nod. After all, the Bride of Frankenstein wig transformation for Elizabeth, following her tryst with the Monster, is a key visual punchline.

One tiny quibble: the special effects for The Monster’s lab transformation could use a bit more lightning bolts and smoke. Running through December 31, “Young Frankenstein” at Chicago’s Mercury Theater, 3745 N. Southport is a must-see event. But be warned: once may not be enough!

Well suited to the season, Rough House Theater brings its third annual edition of a macabre puppet show, “The House of the Exquisite Corpse III,” to the Merle Reskin Garage Space at the Steppenwolf Theatre campus on Halsted Street in Chicago.

The one-hour immersive experience gathers audiences in groups of 13, who are ushered in at 15 minute intervals to view a half-dozen 10-minute puppet performances. An emcee warns ticket-holders of foggy settings, and gore ahead—but presumably the squeamish would not choose to attend in the first place.

Each clatch of audience members are guided to the individual viewings, set behind canvas partitions or plasterless lath walls, into which peep holes have been riven or torn at a variety of heights and of differing shapes. Puppets are designed by manipulated by black-clad marionettes perform in the various settings.

At each of the six locations you don headphones to listen in to the puppets’ voices, and the background music and sound-effects, carefully matching to the live action of the puppet. The whole series was inspired by the book “Our Homes and How to Keep Them Healthy,” published in 1883 by Robert Brudenell Carter.

The first, to give newcomers a feel for it, is entitled “The Difficulty of Proof in Arsenic Poisoning Cases.” In a memorable performance, it features a young woman, bed-ridden with a hacking cough, being encouraged to sip tea by an arm intervening from the background.

After several healthy draughts of the steaming liquid, which only seem to worsen her condition, she fumbles with a 1930s radio console, stopping to hear various news reports of murders by poisoning, or antique recordings of classical music. You will have to attend to see her outcome, but know that the other settings shift in time and and setting, but maintain the disquieting tone, some with added gore and unpleasantness—a perfect prelude to Halloween!

Performers include Pablo Monterrubio-Benet and Grace Needlman, Lee and Sam Lewis, Corey Smith, Claire Bauman, Chio Cabrera and Jacky Kelsey, Justin D’Acci and Sion Silva, Ken Buckingham, and Felix Mayes and Kevin Michael Wesson. Process directors are Claire Saxe and Mike Oleon.

“House of the Exquisite Corpse III” runs through October 29 at Steppenwolf’s Merle Reskin Garage Space, 1624 N. Halsted in Chicago. It’s highly recommended, though not for the faint of heart certainly not those under 14.

*Extended through November 4th

There could not have been a better site than Chicago’s Epiphany Center for a one-night performance of a truly moving work—”Soldier Songs,” a one-hour cantata with libretto and score composed by David T. Little.

This sweeping reverie on the internal life of a soldier, from boyhood through mature adulthood, expresses the inexpressible feelings a man experiences in a life under arms, and as a veteran after.

"Soldier Songs” left me deeply affected, moved to uncertainty, with feelings I struggle to express. It follows the arc of one male soldier’s experience of the military, starting from a childhood infused with hero worship of idealized soldiers as superheroes.

Those feelings are still at play as the boy, now a teenager, enlists for a period to end at age 26. It is during this time that this soldier encounters the reality of deadly battle, and his own role, in the fields of war. And finally, the Soldier, now an adult, watches his own son travel the same path, dying unfortunately in mortal combat.

Its opening minutes incorporate voice recordings of veterans of five different wars, punctuated by low-key musical accents. As the recruit ultimately encounters live battle, the music is more tempestuous. More bits of those voice recordings interject throughout. And over this, the powerfully expressive baritone David Adam Moore relates Little’s songs bringing his entire body to action, enacting emotively the lyrics of each phase of this Soldier’s life.

Laid out in three stages—Child, Warrior, Elder—Soldier Songs leaves us with Soldier experiencing the insufferable loss of his own son in battle. The poignance of Moore’s interpretation of Soldier’s anger and loss is among the most outstanding expressions I have heard of male vulnerability and emotional loss.

Backed by a chamber orchestra directed by Lidiya Yankovskaya, with sound design by Garth MacAleavey, the company includes Jeff Yang on violin, Matthew Agnew on cello, Gene Collerd on Clarinet and percussion, Jennie Oh Brown on flute/piccolo/percussion, and Jonathan Gmeinder on piano and synthesizer.

The libretto itself is based on the words of veterans. Supertitles guide the audience as the sections of the work unfold, letting us know. During the child's youthful imaginings, for example, “Boom! Bang! Dead!” the Soldier sings “If I get shot, I’ll just start over,” revealing his naivete as he launches into horrendously violent speech, knowing neither the meaning nor implications of his fantasy of fighting.

As a teen enlistee, Moore sings, “I signed a paper yesterday that until I’m 26 I belong to the government,” and Moore registers a shift in the Soldier’s character, an inkling something has changed. Part 2, begins with Warrior: Still Life with Tank and iPod,” and we learn he listens to heavy metal music to maintain his rage in battle. The underlying music is also infused with overtones of the genre. He sees “old friends, high school friends, marching in fatigues, death machines on their shoulders.”

The experience and resulting trauma of live battle follow, soldiers evaporate under fire, visible only as “blood dripping from the leaves,” as once voice over has it. “A ghastly scene without the action hero,” Moore sings. “Someone yell ‘Cut!’” But of course, no one does. This is the real thing.

Little says he was driven to this work with the realization that his entire generation has never known a time when the U.S. is not at war. And yet, “Soldier Song” is not an anti-war screed, but simply an honest expression of the toll of war on an individual Soldier.

And the setting at Epiphany Center for the Arts was so perfect. This monumental 1885 Episcopal edifice was converted into a $15 million, 42,000 square foot center for the arts in a $15 million project begun in 2017. The main sanctuary, with pipe organ and interior walls intact, has a benign patina of aging paint and religious iconography. Only as I left the venue did I look at the back wall opposite the performance stage, to see the giant words still legible in the peeling paint: “And on Earth, let there be peace.”

One can only imagine the angst for Chicago Opera Theatre’s producers when just over a week prior to the performance soloist Nathan Gunn had to withdraw from the performance for a family emergency. But by the grace of the opera gods, and a one-day waiver from New York’s Metropolitan Opera, baritone David Adam Moore flew to Chicago and saved the show. (Moore is currently working at the Metropolitan Opera for the house premiere production of Jake Heggie's “Dead Man Walking.” In watching Moore’s performance, I was struck by how completely he gave himself up to the role, and wondered how he could be so good on such short notice. Only later did I learn that he has performed this work before, including a definitive recording. 

Chicago Opera Theater moves on to the Harris Theater for the Chicago premiere of Shostakovich's "The Nose" on December 8 and 10, 2023. takes the stage in December at the Harris Theater for Music and Dance. In January 2024, at the Studebaker Theater it will present Huang Ruo’s "Book of Mountains and Seas" in collaboration with the Chicago International Puppet Theater Festival and Beth Morrison Projects. In April, again at the Epiphany Center for the Arts, it presents Vanguard composer Gillian Rae Perry and librettist Marcus Amaker's "The Weight of Light," then back to the Studebaker Theater in May to conclude its season with the world premiere tour presentation of Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer's "Before It All Goes Dark," based on a story by Chicago music and arts journalist Howard Reich, commissioned and presented by Music of Remembrance. 

“Sanctuary City,” Steppenwolf’s latest production by Pulitzer-winning playwright Martyna Majok ("Cost of Living") takes us somewhere audiences likely haven’t been before—deep into the emotional experiences of undocumented American immigrants.

“Sanctuary City” may seem confusing at first. A series of quick cut, apparently repetitive scenes take place on a bare stage with a boy, B (Grant Kennedy Lewis) offering shelter in his mother’s apartment to a girl, G (Jocelyn Zamudio), who climbs in a window and ultimately into his bed, but just for warmth. We eventually learn that these young innocents have been school chums since third grade, when they arrived as minors with their mothers. Neither mothers nor B and G have permanent resident status.

Through these brief glimpses Majok establishes the depth of a growing bond between the two and soon enough the play comes into its own, with B and G now 17. After his mother abandons him to return to her homeland, somehow B ekes out a living and finishes senior year, while G’s path takes a turn for the better - her mother is naturalized, and citizenship is conferred on her as well. Yet G spends most of her time at B’s place, for she is a refugee as well from her immigrant mother’s abusive boyfriends.

As the two mature, Majok explores the stresses in daily life imparted by living in the netherworld of undocumented citizens. But that is only a backdrop to the challenges meted out by life in general, which goes on for both into young adulthood. When Henry {Brandon Rivera) enters the action as B's love interest, Majok gives us an intense exploration of a love triangle. Through twists and turns, Henry and G spar in gripping fashion over who has the greater claim on B.

This is playwriting of the highest order, and the performances by Zamudio and Rivera are deft and sensitive. But we experience B's pain through the remarkable performance by Lewis. One scene early on, where G surprises 17-year-old B with a cake for his seventeenth birthday, brought me to tears. Understated, mostly silent, with imagined props illuminated only by a cigarette lighter, it's his first one alone. No joy, just tears.

Again and again B feels the pangs of abandonment by his mother, his marginalized status in a gay relationship, his career dreams dashed as he is chained to menial work, and the uncertainty of where his relationship with G will go. 

Majok has accomplished something more in “Sanctuary City.” These are fully dimensioned characters, and their lives are interesting, quite aside from the issues around residency status. While many of us have sympathy for the plight of undocumented residents in the U.S., Majok humanizes them, bringing us to identify with their life struggles. And in so doing, she really shows why we would care for these individuals—and we gain the realization that each and every undocumented citizen also has a story that is compelling and worthy of our concern.

In “Sanctuary City,” we have three star actors, and a fourth - Majok’s script, brought amazingly to life by Steph Paul in Steppenwolf’s wonderful in-the-round Ensemble Theater. The scenic design by Yeoji Kim goes from minimalist to fully furnished as sets rise and lower in the second half.

“Sanctuary City” comes highly recommended. It runs through November 18 at Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted St. in Chicago.

With a powerful script by Jim Cartwright and knockout performances by every cast member, Filament Theatre’s “The Rise and Fall of Little Voice’” is a must-see. Set in the 1960s at a seaside village in northern England, this play about a young woman, LV (Emjoy Gavino), sequestered upstairs in her tidy bedroom, listening to her late father’s voluminous LP vinyl collection of popular chanteuses of the era that were his favorites of his—Edith Piaf, Shirley Bassey, Judy Garland and others.

Downstairs her mother, Marti Hoff (Alexandra Main), a raging alcoholic, usually wearing last night’s heavy makeup and jewelry, flails through the chaotic mess, screaming up the stairs for LV to turn it down, then collapsing on the cluttered couch. The dilapidated domicile features sketchy electrical, which frequently shorts out in showers of sparks. Yet when the power goes down, the music continues and we are treated to a revelation: LV can perfectly mimic the divas she has listened to for hours. And let me say you will be blown away by Emjoy Gavino’s singing.

Central to the achievement, or any performance of this script, is the musical capabilities of LV. How there can be found actors like Gavino who can act, and mimic perfectly a range of divas—her Billy Holiday is unbelievably convincing—well this is the magical mystery of theater and what separates us spectators from those conjuring the spectacle on the other side of the footlights. (Vocal consultant is Jessie Oliver.)

(from left) Ben Veatch, Alexandra Main. Watson Swift, Julia Rowley and Emjoy Gavino

Directed impeccably by Devon de Mayo and Peter G. Anderson, Gift Theatre has mined “The Rise and Fall of Little Voice” for all its dramatic worth. Largely a story of unresolved grief, and how in this case that grief is addressed, is the core of the play. It's a bit like a mash-up of "Glass Menagerie" and :Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf." As Marti Hoff, Main launches into Cartwright’s soliloquies for a very unhappy person, making them soar compellingly, and in convincing Northern British dialect. (Kudos to Dialect Coach Adam Goldstein.) As the villain of this drama, Main’s performance as Hoff earns our sympathy even as we despise her behavior.

(from left) Emjoy Gavino and Martel Manning

LV’s escape from this toxic environment comes through the offices of telephone installer Billy (Martel Manning), a suitor whose bashful advances are a perfect match for the reticent LV (it stands for Little Voice). Manning’s performance is nuanced and compelling.

Emjoy Gavino in Gift Theatre's 'The Rise and Fall of Little Voice' at Filament Theatre

Two larger-than-life characters also figure large in the action: the stage promoter Ray Say (Ben Veath) and the impresario Mr. Boo (Watson Swift), who each turn in outstanding performances. These two engineer a public performance by LV at a local club, and it's a smash—but it causes LV to crash emotionally.

We mustn’t overlook Sadie May (Julia Rowley), Marti Hoff's silently slavish drinking and dancing buddy. Rowley captures the essence of a character living vicariously through another.

From set design (Hannah Clark), costumes (kClare McKelaston) props (Lily Anna Berman), this production of “The Rise and Fall of Little Voice” will bring you on your feet cheering. Running through October 15 at Filament Theatre, 4101 N. Milwaukee in Chicago, it comes highly recommended. Reach the box office here.

It’s hard to imagine now, but in 1954, the U.S. Senate began investigating publishers of comic books, tapping psychologists who linked a rise in juvenile delinquency to comics depicting lurid stories and violent criminals. The nation was perhaps primed for the investigation, as the move came during the Senate’s ongoing McCarthy era pogrom against suspected communists during the Red Scare.

“The Innocence of Seduction” recounts this inconceivable (maybe not given book ban efforts today) but true story, and so delightfully and with such panache that you will be completely entertained. WIth a passionate cast of 15 players, and an inventive script by Mark Pracht (who also directs), each scene opens much like a panel in a comic book. This is Pracht’s second work in a projected “Four-Color Trilogy” about the illustrated periodicals and is the opener for City Lit’s forty-third season.

We meet real characters from actual comic book publishers, including Entertainment Comics’ William Gaines (played with gusto by Sean Harklerode), and his counterparts from St. John Publishing (Archer St. John is played by John Blick.)and Quality Comics. Key individuals in the saga are accompanied by their true-life, fleshed out backstories, which in the 1950’s made them vulnerable to compromise by background work done by J. Edgar Hoover’s minions at the FBI. 

Among these are Matt Baker (Brian Bradford), a Black closeted gay artist of romance comics, and Janice Valleau (Megan Clarke), creator of a women detective comics and artist behind the Archie Comics spin-off “Veronica and Betty.”  Representing expert psychologists connecting comics to social ills is Dr. Frederic Wertham, also a real life figure, whose commentary is interjected in vignettes very much like a comic book panel. Played so very well by Frank Nall, Dr. Wertham’s scenes gradually move from restrained scientific commentary to ever more dire rants and ultimately, darkly comic interjections.

Notable in the production are a 1950-styled big-screen for presenting comic images—credit to G. "Max" Maxin IV for Scenic, Lighting and Projection Design. Exceptional work was done by Beth Laske-Miller (Costume Designer), Petter Wahlbäck (Composer and Sound Design), Alison Dornheggen (Violence and Intimacy Design), and Jeff Brain (Props Design).

“The Innocence of Seduction” shows how, as politics entered an arena in which it didn’t belong, the public responded to this newly contrived hot-button issue, with comic book burnings blossoming in towns around the U.S. Playwright Pracht has packed it all in this work, and we meet Senators Robert Henrickson (Paul Chakrin) and Estes Kefauver (Robin Trevino), as well as jurist Charles Murphy (Chuck Munro), who was appointed the first arbiter of what could pass muster under the comic book publishing code.

Comics long bore the mark of that era, a self-policing censorship program evident on the covers of everything from Superman to The Thing through 2011: the Comics Code Authority seal of approval. Today we have abandoned fears of what at the time was deemed a threat to society. The code forbade the use of “horror or terror” in comic titles and banned the depiction of “walking dead, torture, vampires and vampirism, ghouls, cannibalism, and werewolfism.” Now societal backlash is whipped up by politicians over "wokeness, " Black history, and LGBTQ education. 

Pracht shows us that Judge Murphy’s thumbs up or down was at times capricious and idiosyncratic - as formalized censorship always is and must be. The comic-styled program for the show draws a connection to the surge in attempts to banned books, including graphic novels, in schools and libraries today.

While aspects of the various personal human dramas play out in overdrawn melodrama, perhaps this is in keeping with the subject as well. Regardless, this is a highly recommended show, which runs through October 8 at City Lit Theater, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr in Chicago.

At first I wasn't digging “Moon at the Bottom of the Ocean,” Bryn Magnus’ two act play premiering at Dramatists Theater in Chicago. It opens with Paul (Jeffrey Bivens is excellent) sitting beside Vera's (Julia Williams) desk as she reels off brief descriptions of a scene in a coffee shop--but we're not sure why. Is it details for a camera shoot? A cinematographer's script? As Vera flies through the descriptions in a dull monotone, reading many of them with time stamps, Paul fidgets and jumps in and out of his chair.

"Notes," Vera's charges, in an effort to gain Paul's attention. We learn soon enough that Paul is a frustrated author struggling with completing his first novel. He has retained Vera to spy on a gentleman we never see, who he regards as his nemesis—Jonathan Lebenau, a prolific and celebrated author who has recently won a MacArthur Genius grant. Vera's charge: to find out for Paul the secret of Lauacaum’s success.

Never mind that back at home is Paul's angelic wife Leslie (Vicki Walden), who happens to be a barista at the coffee shop Lebenau frequents. Leslie has given Paul multiple opportunities to meet Lebenau directly, to ask for advice, or simply to share a bit of his own developing opus. In fact, we learn that Paul has never let anyone read a word of it. Not even Leslie, who has watched his writing struggles throughout their marriage.

"It isn't ready," Paul says. “Revealing your work before it's ready diminishes it,” he claims. Understandable sentiments to a certain degree. But this has been going on for 15 years! His wife has never read nor heard Paul read a single sentence from this work. Does it even exist? We begin to wonder, and the plot thickens.

As the audience becomes enveloped in this mystery, which is gripping, we also bear witness to the toxic fixation author Paul has for his nemesis Lebenau. Paul's fixation and his continuously uttered internal monolog is almost like a Dostoyevsky character. And we begin to see how this is poisoning his relationship with his wife Leslie. She is an ethereal songbird who effortlessly devises melodies that for Paul are intimidating in their beauty, and Leslie readily shares them with the world.

In the second act the mystery turns and we meet a satisfying resolution. Directed by Jenny Magnus and is part of Curious Theatre Branch’s 35th season. Dramaturg alert: it’s a very fine play, even in this bare bones production. And one I am so glad I saw. The show runs through September 23, 2023. Tickets are at Curious Theatre’s online box office. 

“No Man’s Land” is vintage Harold Pinter: enigmatic, intriguing, remarkable word play, and loaded with laughs. Steppenwolf has given it a definitive production, set in the soaring library of Hirst, a British aristocrat litterateur who has picked up Spooner, an aging poet, at a pub earlier.

Descending into a scotch-soaked verbal tryst, the two launch into windy, pretentious fulminations on everything under the sun as they joust over the course of the two acts. At first, Spooner is in the ascendancy, and eventually Hirst.

It has been more than 45 years since “No Man's Land” was first produced, and here at Steppenwolf, we have a chance to see two of Steppenwolf’s finest in the prime of their acting capabilities: Jeff Perry as Hirst and Mark Ulrich as Spooner. Under the impeccable direction of Les Waters—his rendering of Sarah Ruhl’s “In the Next Room (or the vibrator play”) was exceptional—this is a definitive production.

Though critics have puzzled over Harold Pinter’s 1974 “No Man's Land” for decades, you do not need to understand the late British playwright’s intent to enjoy it. The audience was roiled with laughter throughout the first act, while the second, darker act is gripping as we watch for resolution that comes, but leaves us perhaps in the same predicament as the characters.

Two younger men, Foster (Samuel Roukin) and Briggs ((John Hudson Odom), self-described as amanuenses of Hirst, assist Hirst in the shifting power balance by intimidating and reining in Spooner. Then they join the party, drinking along with the older men. Hirst has all the cards: the money, the status, and these two aides to assist in his ultimate domination of Spooner.

In fact, this absurdist work offers no conclusions, just intimations of the existential inertia two late middleaged men feel as they cling to an idyllic sybaritic past while beginning to look at the void that lies ahead when they meet their end. Until then, they distract themselves as best they can with pretentions and word games.

I’ll venture this take on the meaning: Pinter has abstracted the dynamic of male competitiveness and posturing. The dialog, so complex that I am in awe at the actors’ mastery of the roles, expresses how two men establish who’s on top, who’s the alpha. We see this in sales meetings, in board rooms, in sports bars, and in “No Man's Land” in the library. That Pinter has captured this essence, the one-upmanship, the referential stature building, and the behavior change when the alpha emerges victorious - this is the art of the play.

Andrew Boyce earns plaudits for the monumental vision of a book-filled room: twelve rows of bound volumes line the walls from floor to ceiling, with spot-on wall paper and moulding, a cavernous space that focuses the action front and center. Sound design (Mikhail Fiksel) punctuates key moments shockingly yet appropriate to the script.

Highly recommended, “No Man’s Land” runs through August 20 in Steppenwolf’s Downstairs Theater.