Displaying items by tag: terry mccabe

“The House of Ideas,” directed by Terry McCabe, is an aptly named recount of the rise of Marvel Comics and its two driving forces: Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. The Marvel Universe has indeed become a dominating force in creative media, spawning blockbuster films, hit TV series, and a world of uniquely individual and even flawed superheroes that differ from everything that came before.

Lee’s role, which began as an office assistant at Marvel predecessor Timely Comics, evolved into that of editor, writing captions and balloon dialog for the comic book frames. Over time, he became a driving creative force, co-developing with Kirby the Incredible Hulk and the Fantastic Four, and with various artists Spider-Man, the X-Men, Iron Man, Thor, the Hulk, Ant-Man, the Wasp, Black Panther, Daredevil, Doctor Strange, and Black Widow.

This is the third part of playwright Mark Pracht’s “four-color trilogy” tracing pivotal elements in the rise of the comics industry. Having had the good fortune to catch Pracht’s stunning “Innocence of Seduction” last year (number two in the series) I was on the lookout for this final installment.

Brian Plocharczyk as Jack Kirby and Carrie Hardin as Roz Kirby, in “The House of Ideas.”

Familiar to millions around the globe from his cameos in Marvel movies, Lee is played here with complete panache by Bryan Breau. The chronological structure of the play traces the frequently contentious relationship between Lee and Kirby (played convincingly by Brian Plocharczyk). Kirby perennially felt his seminal contributions through art to forming comic characters, and the creation of worlds they inhabited was underappreciated by publishers, and by Lee.

Lee comes off as an inveterate and skillful self-promoter, and he was better able to garner credit for the comic works than Kirby - the creator of Captain America years before Lee was involved.
We see Lee and Kirby during WWII, and also meet publishers and businessmen with whom Lee and Kirby tussled for intellectual property rights as the comic businesses changed hands. We also meet their wives, strong-willed women who supported their husbands through thick and thin. The British-born Joan Lee (Kate Black-Spense) is much more calculating and inventive in giving Stan Lee guidance; Roz Kirby (Carrie Hardin) merely reflects Kirby’s anger.

In Act II, we see Stan Lee in gray pompadour and big glasses - the image familiar from films, and caricatured in his comic book essays, Stan’s Soapbox. While his relationship with Kirby ebbs and flows, a constant background tension, Lee is always on the make, moving forward to advance Marvel from comics to other media. As my companion at the show noted, the true power of the play is when these two egos of differing types but similar proportions collide, building the pressure against each other, bringing the tension from background, to subtext, and inevitably to climax.
In the end, a visual moment resolves the irreconcilable differences in these men: a photographer silently frames a photo of the two, and with a flash of a camera bulb, the pent up emotional struggle dissipates, and the audience experiences an emotional resolution.

Comics, along with banjo music, jazz, musical theater and mystery stories, is a uniquely American artform, according to science fiction script writer Harlan Ellison. “House of Ideas” gives a fount of comic book genius, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, their due. Recommended, especially for lovers of the comic genre, “House of Ideas” plays through October 6, 2024 at City Lit Theater, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr Ave. Chicago

Hopes and reality rarely align. Fairytale marriages only exist in fairy tales, and parenting is not nearly as easy as television shows that wrap up family crises in a half hour including commercials would indicate. Yet people keep getting married and having children, and discovering that, while spouses and children are far more complicated and not nearly as perfect as the fantasies promise, they’re worth the investment. In Kristine Thatcher’s play, Emma’s Child, Rogers Park couple Henry and Jean Farrell have figured out how to make their marriage work despite the other’s flaws and have spent a decade and a half trying to bring a child into their lives, finally turning to adoption. The process exposes unexpected differences in expectations and when they finally meet the child they had intended to adopt, their marriage is threatened by their different approaches to confronting a reality that neither they nor the birth mother, Emma, anticipated. Thatcher’s play, under the direction of Terry McCabe, who also directed its 1996 premiere, explores what it means to be a parent, and the challenges that arise when the reality of parenthood strays beyond the bounds of any expectations. Raising a child with a profound disability is an overwhelming prospect and in Emma’s Child the difficulties are compounded by the question of motherhood—who is responsible for the care of an infant who is not the child that anyone was prepared to welcome into the world?

Thatcher’s play, which takes place in 1990-1991, jumps quickly between locations and timelines, which sometimes leads to powerful juxtapositions, but other times serves little purpose and minimizes the dramatic tension as the end of scenes is already revealed in previous scenes set in the future. However, in general, the narrative is easy to follow and the Thatcher wisely avoids offering easy answers to questions that have none. The characters are all portrayed sympathetically, even as they sometimes try the patience of those around them and the audience. Director Terry McCabe keeps the action moving between locations including the neo-natal intensive care unit at Christ Hospital, the Farrell’s Rogers Park apartment, various offices and a wooded area in Michigan. Samantha Gribben’s unfussy set is dominated by an incubator which always keeps the theme of the play visually present; one cannot overlook the baby in the room. Lighting and sound designer Benjamin Dionysus helps fill in the minimal settings, and props designer Jeff Brain keeps the action grounded in the reality of each space. Costume designer Louise “Scout” Gregory uses layers and accessories to support shifts in time, while giving each character a look that suits their personality, from the slightly tweedy Henry, to Jean’s harried polish, her friend Franny’s looser flair, to various versions of scrubs and suits.

The large cast all give nuanced, grounded performances under McCabe’s direction, recognizing the truth portrayed in Thatcher’s play that no one really has the time or resources to care for Robin, the child at the center of the adoption. Kat Evans anchors the show as a tightly wound Jean, who is forced to confront the limits of her ability to parent a child with special needs. In early scenes, she comes across as someone who needs to maintain control to not fall apart. As she becomes more invested in Robin’s well-being, Evans’s performance shows Jean’s evolution into a powerful advocate and pragmatic parent, while constantly being confronted by the knowledge that the child is not hers, biologically or legally. As her husband Henry, James Sparling goes from charming to slightly prickly as he faces the fact that, not only does he not have the same capacity to deal with Robin’s disability, but he is losing his connection with his Jean as she insists on caring for the child. Sparling remains sympathetic even as his character insists that Robin should be left to institutional care. As Franny, Jean’s friend who steps in to lend support when Henry is struggling to do so, Rebecca Sparks captures both the affection of a long-time friend and the aloofness that is possible for an outside observer. Fran’s marriage is unsatisfying, and she is having an affair, while also playing intermediary between Jean and Henry, and trying to support Jean, who, in turn ends up trying to support her friend’s mid-life affair despite her misgivings about it. Sparks effectively balances caring and flightiness in a character that takes on too many roles. A standout in the supporting cast is Lee Wichman as Laurence, the NICU nurse charged with Robin’s care. Wichman injects much-needed humor into the intense care that Robin requires. Laurence understands more than anyone the needs of the infant and rallies his caretakers with a respectful disregard for protocol. He also initiates Jean into the care routine but recognizes her limitations more than she does. Wichman’s gentle, sardonic performance perfectly aligns with his role. As Mary Jo, Laurence’s heir-apparent, Maria Zoia brings a deadpan toughness to her role, using humor, enthusiasm and studied cluelessness to give Robin access to what he needs. marssie Mencotti brings down-to-earth warmth to both her roles, as the adoption agency representative who recognizes the limitations of prospective parents, but also the value of her work, and as the doctor who wants the best for the infant Robin, while being constrained by bureaucracy and caseload. Andrea Conway-Diaz toes the bottom line as hospital administrator Vivian Radmacher, rarely allowing her compassion to creep into decisions that she knows all too well could affect the future of the hospital. As Sam Stornant, Jamie Black brings aggrieved stoicism, tempered by late-emerging self-awareness to his role as Franny’s abandoned husband (though who abandoned whom is a point of controversy); his conversations with Sparling’s Henry allow both the characters and the audience another perspective on the questions of marriage and parenthood that the play explores. As two birth mothers, Katie MacLauchlan and MiKayla Boyd make the most of roles that seem deliberately pushed to the edges of the drama. MacLauchlan as Emma is practical and direct, revealing both her concern for the infant that she gave up and her relief at not having to add this responsibility to an already complicated web of caretaking. As the young Michelle, Boyd balances her understanding of the enormity of giving birth with her knowledge that she is not ready for the child she is carrying.

Thatcher’s play unsparingly examines both the familial and societal toll of caring for children, wanted or not, who require more care than most people can give, while also introducing the audience to the difficulties of placing children whose birth parents want to provide good homes but cannot do so. Thatcher avoids judgment, though the audience may not, recognizing that people have expectations and even prejudices that color their decisions (as evidenced in the pre-adoption interviews and Emma’s casual assessment of Laurence). There are a few subplots in Thatcher’s play that may occupy a bit too much time and distract from the central theme of parenting, especially the examination of the Stornants’ marriage as juxtaposed with the Farrells’ marriage, but McCabe’s straightforward direction, and the clear-eyed performances by the ensemble provide plenty of material for discussions of what responsibility parents, we as a society, and the medical community have to provide care for the most vulnerable among us. While not a cheerful play, Emma’s Child offers compassion and hope along with the hard questions it raises, and City Lit’s new production powerfully portrays the challenges and joys of parenthood.

Emma’s Child runs through May 29, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30pm and Sundays at 3:00pm, with Monday performances on May 16 and 23 at 7:30pm. Tickets are $34, seniors $29, students and military $12. Performances take place at City Lit Theater, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr Ave., inside Edgewater Presbyterian Church. Tickets and information are available at www.citylit.org and by phone at 773-293-3682.

Owen Wister’s 1902 novel The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains has been adapted for the stage at least once (by Wister himself along with a co-adaptor) and has had five screen adaptations, not including the television series based on it. This leads to the question of why it is necessary to adapt this seminal Western novel once again for the stage. According to director Terry McCabe, “The value of any national myth lies in its availability to everyone.” The diverse cast certainly seems to enjoy the opportunity to bring the well-worn trappings of the myth of the American West to life, and, hey, who wouldn’t? Wister’s novel is considered the first to introduce the Wild West to the American mainstream, with its black hat/white hat dichotomy, rough justice and rugged individualism. With prose capturing the unspoiled glory of Wyoming, both the novel and this new adaptation by L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Huffman evoke a time and place that exist only in the imagination, but nevertheless have shaped the “American Character.” Is it valuable to return to those dusty streets? This production does not make that case. Is it fun? Most certainly, especially in this tightly written adaptation, under the inventive direction of McCabe, with a creative and committed cast and design team.

L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Hufffman have done an excellent job of adapting Wister’s 400+-page novel into a stage version that clocks in at just over two hours, including the intermission. The play hews closely to the plot of the original, though the novel’s narrator has been eschewed with his elegiac praise of the Virginian and the Wyoming landscape assigned to other characters. In making the myth available to everyone, the playwrights have also made a few changes; for example, Steve calls The Virginian “Whiskey” instead of “Jeff” (for Jefferson Davis, which would be discordant in this production) to honor his Southern roots. The dialogue, much of it lifted from the novel, is remarkably fresh and entertaining, though the playwrights have used the time constraints and desire to preserve elements of the novel’s descriptive prose as an excuse to give proportionally more stage time to the female characters, which also allows for a more critical gaze at the mythological Western version of masculinity. There are also nods to the economic disparities between owners and employees, and the hardships faced by small-scale ranchers, as well as the nascent Women’s Suffrage Movement. Despite these changes, Bernadine and Huffman’s adaptation is a faithful rendering of the American classic.

Director Terry McCabe has more practice than anyone in dealing with the constraints of the tiny City Lit Theater space, and it shows in his ability to effectively shoehorn a sprawling Western into its confines without sacrificing the sprawl. First and foremost, McCabe embraces the fact that this is a stage adaptation, and his production deploys a wide range of theatrical devices with aplomb. He also embraces the sepia-toned nostalgia for an America that never was. The cowboys look cool in their jeans and gun belts, the ladies elegant in their high-waisted skirts. The costumes by LaVisa Williams perfectly capture this Western fantasy world. Resident set designer Ray Toler has created a set that bends and folds and pops out into various locations, with the Great Plains represented by beautiful rolling fabric drops. Though smoothly executed by the cast, the scene changes are helped along by composer/cellist Kellee Vandervall’s score, which emulates and incorporates American folk music (and Wister’s own compositions). Liz Cooper’s lighting design helps recreate the sundrenched colors of the Plains and focus the action. Steven Widerman of the Puppet Company designed the expressive horses, which are integral to the action.

The large ensemble cast is uniformly strong, smoothly moving from location to location, transforming the set as they go. The well-choreographed scene changes never break the momentum of the performances. Robert Hunter Bry brings a quiet, intelligent charm to the Virginian, convincingly filling the shoes of ranch foreman and architect of change in the West. As his love interest Molly Wood, the schoolmarm from Vermont, Liz Falstreau embodies the well-mannered rebelliousness of her role, and makes a solid case for reexamining the traditions of Western vigilantism. Ben Auxier brings enough dimension to the antagonist role of Trampas to almost garner sympathy—and enough to make some good points about the inequities of the democracy of the Wild West—but fortunately comes up short on this front to create a compelling villain. David Fink’s performance as animal-loving, gullible Shorty is affecting as he maintains his heart through adversity. Aaron Sarka is an affable, winningly impetuous Steve. Varris Holmes is charismatic and grounded as Judge Taylor, while bringing the necessary gravitas to the role. As Mrs. Taylor, Andie Dae brings just a touch of aristocracy to her strong-willed character. Tom Lally is imperious as the cruel ranch owner Balaam. Rounding out the cast of cowpokes are DC Cathro, Tyler DeLoatch, Tony DiPisa, and Huy Nguyen; each creates a distinct character that goes beyond the archetypes they are portraying to breathe life into the sometimes cliched dialogue. Likewise, as Molly’s relatives back home, Hilary Hensler and marssie Mencotti fully realize the characters behind their Vermont attitudes. Adele Watel brings spirit to both her Young Bride and sharp-tongued barmaid Krista. The horses could not horse without horse without the talented puppeteers who animate them: Linsey Falls, Sarah Franzel, Adele Watel and David Wiesenhahn, who allow the animals to not only move but express emotion. The horses are also given life by their “riders,” who each give them a distinct gait. 

The trend in Westerns these days is to go beyond the mythologizing to the harsh brutality that inspired it. This production does the opposite, though it does open the door to a more inclusive portrayal of the myth. The dialogue pays lip service to condemning extra-judicial killing, vendettas settled by showdowns at sundown, and unbridled masculinity, but the adaptation does not veer far enough from its source to make a serious stab at an alternate morality. The Virginian unabashedly celebrates the men who won the West with horses and six-shooters and opened the land to those who would come after with railroads and coal shovels. Terry McCabe’s City Lit Theater production of Owen Wister’s The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains, as adapted by L.C. Bernadine and Spencer Huffman, is an enjoyable, fast-paced, inoffensive step back into a time that never really was, but that inspired generations, now made available to everyone.

The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains runs through February 20 at City Lit Theater at 1020 W. Bryn Mawr Avenue, on the second floor of the historic Edgewater Presbyterian Church. Performances take place Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 and Sundays at 3:00, as well as Mondays February 7 and 14 at 7:30. Tickets are $34, seniors $29, and students and military $12. Information about the run, including COVID policies and transportation, are available at www.citylit.org or by phone at 773-293-3682.

City Lit Theater artistic director Terry McCabe brings us an inspired pairing with Two Days in Court, a double-bill of one act plays with a legal theme - and pieces not often seen.

The Devil & Daniel Webster is a 1938 play about the famed 19th century orator who reclaims the soul of a client who has ill-advisedly sold it to the devil; and Gilbert & Sullivan’s breakthrough 1875 operetta, Trial By Jury, brings us a woman who sues for breech of promise when her fiancé abandons her for another woman.

The legal themes aside, the works couldn’t be more different. Gilbert & Sullivan serve up sly wit in a marvelous parody of society, and skillful mimicry of operatic forms, in a highly polished, high caliber musical work. The Devil & Daniel Webster is interesting as a bit of Americana, a decidedly rustic and really rather primitive morality play that originated as a 1936 story in the Saturday Evening Post by Stephen Vincent Benet.

Despite being stilted and laced with phrases like “Tarnation!” The Devil & Daniel Webster is also packed with still-biting commentary on American social foibles, and a backcountry wit. (It’s set in rural New Hampshire sometime after 1830.) And it trades on the abiding respect and affection felt for Daniel Webster, whose oratorical skills were legendary – and thus the reason the character was tapped to argue the case to save a soul. The story is also a cultural meme, reappearing regularly including in a Simpson’s episode and in a video game by Cuphead.

Terry McCabe added one more insightful touch: he found a cast that could sing, dance, and mine period language for its humor. Trained voices are required for any Gilbert & Sullivan piece, and this cast has them. To bind the two works in Two Days in Court more securely, McCabe inserted two songs from a 1938 folk opera version of The Devil & Daniel Webster - a nice touch.

City Lit does a lot with limited props and sets, and successfully relies on its devoted players who turned in strong performances. The polished pro Bill Chamberlain, as Daniel Webster, displayed his notable voice in “I’ve Got a Ram,” a song from the opera version of the play. Playing the Devil – known as Scratch – with an otherworldly style, was Lee Wechman. Though at certain moments his style seemed a little bit out of synch with the rest of the players, overall it worked.

On the Gilbert & Sullivan side we had a chance to really hear some voices, with Ryan Smetana a standout as Counsel for the Plaintiff and Sarah Beth Tanner as the Plaintiff. The one-act Gilbert & Sullivan work left me wanting more – a good feeling to depart with from any production. City Lit Theatre’s Two Days in Court runs through May 26. It ‘s highly recommended for those who don’t want to miss two rarely-played works that are important cultural touchstones.

An alluring play with a less familiar name - Fuente Ovejuna – is delivering a startlingly great moment of theater. Written in 1619 by Lope de Vega – the prolific writer who is considered the foremost playwright of Spain’s golden age - it is based on a true story that had become legendary even in its own day.

Set in 1476, it tells the story of a village in Spain, Fuente Ovejuna, captured by loyalists to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in a battle for the crown of Castile. As the story unfolds, Commander Fernán Gómez returns victorious from battle and is feted by the villagers, who shower him with gifts – though not gold and luxuries, but simple fare from their farm town - food, livestock, and crockery.

But Gomez (Varris Holmes) is a tyrant, and he also claims as spoils of victory the young women of the town for himself and his solders. His henchmen Ortuno (Jimmy Mann) and Flores (Ty Carter) represent what is coming to be called toxic masculinity, though when the play was written in the 16th century (and onward if we are being honest), it was common male behavior.

Gradually intimidating the townsfolk until they are afraid to resist, Gomez finally crosses the line when he accosts Laurencia – a self-possessed and what we would call today “empowered” woman - and played with compelling vigor by Carolyn Plurad. Through the build-up to that moment, Laurencia and her companion Pasquala (Kristen Alesia), assert themselves against the increasingly forcible entreaties of Gomez and his soldiers. Thwarted, Gomez beats her fiancé and carries Laurencia away - on the very day of their wedding.

Though subjected to attempted rape (medieval Droit du seigneur allowed overlords to have their way with young women under their dominion), Laurencia makes a daring escape, then shames the leading men of Fuente Ovejuna, and in a dramatic exhortation, rallies the men and significantly, the women, to overthrow the tyrant Commander. 

We have City Lit Theatre to thank for helping familiarize us with Lope de Vega, who is revered just a notch below Cervantes in classic Spanish literature. The work is like a highly evolved morality play as it tracks the arc of the historic event, a blow by blow direct narrative. But de Vega invests what are presumably vaguely known historical characters with fully developed, colorful and likeable personalities. 

Standout performances by Rob Garbowski as Esteban, the town magistrate; Jimmy Mann as the Inquisitor and soldier Ortuno; Val Gerard Garcia, Jr. as townsman Mengo; and Dan McGeehan as jurist Manrique. But without question the most powerful performance is Carolyn Plurad as Laurencia – who brings to the role a rousing power. Her delivery will remind you of one of Shakespeare’s heroines.

Terry McCabe, who adapted and directed the work, provides an amazing evocation of the village center, with a continuous cavalcade of performers – 16 actors in 20 roles, including a musical band, with the requisite pool and working fountain in the town square. All this takes place in the tiny quarters of City Lit Theater’s space on Bryn Mawr. De Vega's play has a living heritage: In its home town, it is performed regularly as part of a theater festival, with 150 of the townsfolk in the cast.

Much more than a historic artifact or literary novelty, Fuente Ovejuna is a something quite special, like a fine art house movie – and for that reason comes recommended. See it at City Lit Theater through February 17. www.citylit.org