You know what they say: The only cure for homosexuality is to issue him a Screen Actor’s Guild card.

Tommy on Top takes this old saw a step further: Tommy Miller (Ryan Cason), closeted Hollywood hunk, has been nominated for an Oscar. Super-swish boyfriend George (Patrick Gosney) and vodka-swigging sister Molly (Theresa Liebhart) join Tommy to discuss the eternal question – in or out? – with an Academy Award and a career hanging in the balance. Gay Trump-loving [huh?] agent Eddie (Chris Sylvie) is adamantly in favor of the closet – a good thing, as he spends a great deal of the show stuffed into one. Why? Well, it seems evil columnist Kiki (Blythe Inanna) wants to out Tommy with some compromising photos, and celebrity talent manager Judy Jensen (Beth Johnson) wants to be Tommy’s new agent … over Eddie’s dead body! Almost.

That’s pretty much the story in a nutshell (which is arguably where it belongs).

Written by British playwright Chris Woodley, Tommy on Top was a hit in London, and is now premiering in the US at the PrideArts Center Theatre.  The British provenance is very apparent and, unfortunately, a problem with the production.

I’ve never been a fan of British humor: it simply makes too much of too little. A quip that originally is droll (e.,g. ‘every sperm is sacred’) is belabored until it’s just boring. The humor in Tommy is simply not funny. I do not find any humor in drunkenness, a theme that repeats throughout the show. I’m not amused by violence, and the gunplay is completely tasteless (though the juxtaposition with the Highland Park massacre could not have been predicted). I don’t laugh at defenestration (isn’t that a great word?!), and the anti-Irish theme may be funny across the Pond, but in Chicago it’s baffling. And a Trump-loving gay Hollywood agent? Maybe in London, not so much here.

The cast do an extraordinary job. Patrick Gosney sparkles as George; and Ryan Cason is as adorably hunky as a Hollywood leading man should be. Director Jay Espano does a great job knitting all the actors’ excellent work together, and kudos to Garrett McCann and Jack McElroy for intimacy and fight choreography. A special shoutout to Chris Sylvie, who stepped in at the last minute as Eddie. And Tommy’s final monologue is lovely, revealing the show’s heart at last. Too bad we had to sit through 90 minutes to get to it. Comedy is a fine instrument for social commentary. The problem is that this script isn’t very funny.

BUT WAIT: as I said, I’m not a fan of British humor, and farce is not my favorite genre. If, however, you happen to like preposterous premises, cumbersome one-liners, outrageous over-acting and senseless physical brawling, Tommy on Top is for you. If you still giggle at the 3 Stooges, this show will make you LOL.

There’s nothing new about Antigone. Sophocles wrote it in 440BC, and we all read it (under duress) in high school, my most vivid memory of which is Mrs. Thatcher printing ‘ANTIGONE’ on the chalkboard, and Patrick Tyrrell sneaking up to print ‘P’ at the beginning. Recent adaptations have used Antigone to comment on The Patriot Act; have styled the dead Polynices as a terrorist threat and Antigone into a "dangerous subversive;" and as a commentary on the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.

Today, Redtwist Theatre presents a new translation by Anne Carlson, whose “light-fingered, colloquial and cutting” language provides a fresh view of Greek tragedy in the twenty-first century. Her translation makes the entire production not only accessible but topical.

The story is simple. Antigone is sister to Eteocles and Polynices, who led opposing sides in Thebes' civil war and died fighting each other for the throne. Kreon, king of Thebes decrees that Eteocles will be honored while the rebel brother Polynices lies unsanctified on the battlefield. Antigone defies the edict,buries her brother, and argues the immorality of the edict and the morality of her own actions.

Kreon remains intransigent until blind Tiresias prophesies that all of Greece will despise him. Urged on by the terrified Chorus, Kreon finally relents. Too late, of course: Antigone has hanged herself and a grieving Haemon attacks Kreon, then slays himself. Kreon, beside himself with remorse, then learns his wife Eurydice has killed herself. Kreon, a broken man, stumbles away.

So many of the themes portrayed in Antigone speak directly to 2022. It exposes the dangers of the absolute ruler, a king to whom few will speak their true opinions freely and openly– does that ring any bells? Civil disobedience is a major theme: the individual’s right to reject society's infringement on her freedom to perform a personal obligation. Certainly SCOTUS would do well to reflect on this.  Citizenship is also at issue: Kreon holds that citizenship is a contract, and Polynices’ attack on the city revokes his citizenship. For Kreon, as absolute ruler of the state, loyalty to the state comes before family fealty. He is punished by Haemon killing himself when he finds Antigone dead.

Redtwist Theatre is a tiny storefront venue that takes advantage of its close quarters by inviting the audience into the action. Director Christine Freije extends this – at first I thought the various people sweeping the floor and wiping the walls were … I don’t know, maybe being extra-careful about covid cleanliness? until Antigone arrests them by slamming her shovel into the ground.

Antigone, played by Isabel Alamin, beautifully portrays the deeply-committed and doomed woman. When she’s onstage one sees nobody else. Natalie Welber, as her sister Ismene, demonstrates the ambivalence of a law-abiding citizen wrenched from her comfort zone by love of family. Brian Parry paints the spectrum from Kreon’s monarchical obstinacy to the anguish of a bereaved father and husband, and Nick Shank’s Haemon ably depicts filial love eroding under Kreon’s stubbornness. Peter Ferneding brings a welcome injection of humor as Guard. As so often in Greek theatre, Chorus has a big role, and Andrew Bosworth as its leader keeps the story woven together. The remainder of the Chorus played additional roles: Joan Nahid [Euridice], Peter Ferneding [Guard], Maddy Moderhack [Messenger] and Javier Carmona [Teiresias] slid effortlessly from one role to another.

I can’t wait another minute to praise Costume Designer Anna Bodell! I do some sewing myself, and I have to admit I was occasionally diverted from the play’s action by trying to figure out: what is he wearing? and how did she do that?!  Ordinary clothes are pieced together in extraordinary ways, with stunning results.

The stark simplicity of the set and economy of props keeps our focus on the performances, while light and sound preclude a curtain. Director Christine Freije knits it all together seamlessly – and all is made possible by Anne Carlson’s fresh translation.

I loved Antigone – I may go see it again!

Initially, I had the jitters about reviewing Grandma’s Jukebox. Obviously the show was very much about music, and I’ve just never been really into music; I’d rather be reading. I didn’t even own a stereo in college! But I love theater so I arrived at the opening with an open mind and expectations.

The first acts established the groundwork: the four grandchildren are gathered to hear their family friend Richard, a lawyer, explain Grandma B’s estate. J Michael Wright portrays Richard’s excruciatingly awkward efforts to gain acceptance into the family circle, but the others form a closed wall. 

Jessica (played by Jessica Brooke Seals), as the eldest, assumes she will mount Grandma B’s matriarchal throne. She’s lost the respect of the other kids, however, by her submission to her domineering and chronically unemployed husband.

The play, written and directed by Michelle Renee Bester, is grounded in two cornerstones of African American life: family and music. Aeriel Williams as Parker gives a lovely rendition of “Song for Mama”, establishing that Parker’s overwhelming grief has silenced her, isolating her in a cocoon of mourning.  

After this poignant offering, Mikey, exuberantly played by Blake Reasoner, galvanizes us with James Brown’s “I Got the Feelin’”, then he and Chris (Vincent Jordan) manage to top it with their dancing as they crank out Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”.

Vincent Jordan’s Chris bares his pain and rage in PJ Morton’s “Heavy”, revealing how he’s manacled by a gang-ridden past, particularly the shackle of being labeled ‘felon’.

The pain of these four people’s personal traumas has been ignited by their bereavement, and each acts out their pain by blaming and belittling the others. Into this crucible steps Richard, the bumbling white guy, to inform them that Grandma B’s will has a condition: no one can inherit until they undergo family therapy. Richard frosts the cake by saying he’s been trained as a ‘family mediator’ and offering his services.

The following scenes intersperse therapy sessions with conversations. Jessica confronts her shiftless husband with “Hurt Me So Good” and Mikey (he’s NOT Michael! Michael is the abusive father that Grandma B rescued him from) and Chris rock the stage with “Ball of Confusion”.

Meantime, the jukebox sits in the background, and we’re wondering why this piece of furniture has been honored by the play’s title. After all, with the support of musicians Oscar Brown Jr (guitar/bandleader), Adam Sherrod (keys), Mark Miller (bass), and Myron Cherry (drums), this cast sparkles and shines performing each number. 

Then Parker is wistfully singing “I’ll be There”, when … But no. That would be telling.  Suffice it to say, the jukebox earns the title.

The finale, a roof-raising ensemble performance of “Before I Let Go”, reminds us that family love is not constrained by genetics, race, or personal quibbles; a reminder we all need from time to time.

There are a couple of things I’d like to have seen highlighted more.  The first couple of scenes were a bit slow, the singing not quite up to the performers’ rousing best, and the humor a bit forced.  This resolved as the cast relaxed and settled into their performances, and was blown away completely when Chris and Mikey pounded out James Brown and Michael Jackson. 

The playwright’s stated intention is to display ways for healing generational trauma, but the traumata explored were limited to the current generation.  I think “Grandma’s Jukebox” could have delved deeper into intergenerational trauma and recovery.

The artistic team is Executive Producer Jackie Taylor, writer/director Michelle Renee Bester, Robert Reddrick as music director, and Oscar Brown Jr leading the band.  The design team – Bek Lambrecht (set), and Denise Karczewski and Marquecia Jordan (costumes) showed welcome minimalism, simply dressing the room as home and the players as family, with a couple of quirks like Parker’s blankie and Mikey’s exuberant colors.

“Grandma’s Jukebox” plays through June 26 at the Black Ensemble Theatre, continuing the 2022 “Season of Excellence: Season of Healing and Joy”.  If a musically torpid white girl like me can be brought out of her seat by “Grandma’s Jukebox”, then a music lover’s cup will be running over.