Screwball comedy went the way of the dinosaur after the 1940s, but Northlight Theatre attempts to revive it with The Angel Next Door.

For those unfamiliar, screwball was a film subgenre that mixed romance, slapstick, and banter, like Mentos and Coke, and watched them explode to great effect. Stars like Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, William Powell, and Barbara Stanwyck delivered punchlines like a punch to the gut and made the over-the-top plotlines land with ease. A modern-day screwball comedy is a welcome idea. Unfortunately, The Angel Next Door doesn’t quite fly to its predecessors’ heights.

Written by Paul Slade Smith, this comedy was adapted from Ferenc Molnar’s Play at the Castle. It follows Oliver Adams, played by Garrett Lutz, who just finished his first novel. It’s set to be adapted for the stage by married playwrights, Arthur and Charlotte Sanders (Sean Fortunato and Katy Sullivan). They desperately need a hit after their last venture flopped, and their only hope is Oliver’s book.

Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned, and the bright-eyed, innocent author discovers that the beautiful Margot Bell (Aja Alcazar), his love and the novel’s inspiration, has been intimate with Victor Pratt (Andres Enriquez), Broadway’s favorite baritone. It’s then up to Charlotte to bring the two together before Oliver flushes his dreams – and everyone else’s – down the drain.

The Angel Next Door is a love letter to theatre, poking fun at stage tropes, breaking the fourth wall, and preaching about the importance of laughter and escapism in today’s world. In fact, by the end, an unbeliever, Olga (Erin Noel Grennan), the maid, is converted. Unfortunately, the script is so saturated with inside jokes, that the plot is only as deep as a puddle. The first act feels like one long set-up for a mediocre pay-off in the second. Much of the time is spent in exposition or watching characters react to scenes the audience watched happen moments ago.

The cast is the saving grace. The entire troupe, with the exception of Sullivan, actually performed their same parts in Peninsula Players Theatre’s 2024 production. Linda Fortunato, Peninsula’s Artistic Director, directed those performances and also directs Northlight’s version, guiding the production with confidence and clarity even though this particular script doesn’t quite rise to meet her.

Sean Fortunato and Katy Sullivan work wonderfully together as the veteran playwrights who have been through it all. Alcazar balances Margot’s ego and grace well, making it easy to understand why it was love at first sight for Oliver. Enriquez is hilarious as the dumb Victor, who is always ten steps behind everyone else and gets lost in his own reflection. Alcazar and Enriquez also have great physicality, and it was fun to watch the flair they added to simple movements, like sitting down with style or stomping their foot. Erin Noel Grennan steals every scene as the grim Olga. Her comedic timing and presence make this kooky character pop.

Ultimately, The Angel Next Door has all of the parts of a solid comedy but in the wrong proportions. For example, Olga is a crowd-favorite, but scenes would occasionally stall to give her joke after joke. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing, especially when the audience got very few interactions between Oliver and Margot, despite everyone’s future hinging on their romance.

Still, The Angel Next Door delivers an enjoyable experience, lifted by a strong cast, even if it doesn’t linger long after the curtain falls.

For more information, visit https://northlight.org/series/the-angel-next-door/.

Sustaining legacy is no simple task, especially when considering the arts.  How do you preserve continuity of spirit while simultaneously establishing artistic harmony with the past, present and future?  Knowledge, skill and vision at the top are always critical.  But there are other intangibles that ultimately determine long term success.

When Robert Battle unexpectedly announced he could no longer act as artistic director for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in 2023 for health reasons, one of the most accomplished and revered dance companies in the United States began a search to fill a pair of epic shoes. Since its inception in 1958, nearly 70 years ago, the company has only had three artistic directors, Mr. Ailey himself, his designated successor and former principal Ailey dancer, Judith Jamison, and Mr. Battle whose initial association with the Ailey company was that of a guest choreographer. He’d go on to distinguish himself as a master in his field.

Late in 2024, Alvin Ailey Dance Theater chose Alicia Graf Mack, at the time director of the dance division at Juilliard, to become its fourth artistic director.  She began her tenure as Ailey’s new artistic director in July last year. 

Mack’s background and credentials are all exemplary and on their own portend a fruitful stewardship.  Born in California and raised in Columbia Maryland, her parents, one Jewish the other African-American, were socially engaged academics who encouraged their children’s creative interests.  Mack trained in ballet and by 17 was accepted into Dance Theater of Harlem where, at nearly 6’ tall and willowy, her height and grace contributed to building her celebrity.  Consequential injuries necessitated that she quit dance, leading her to acquire a History degree at Columbia University. 

After finishing Columbia, Mack returned to the Dance Theater of Harlem where the company’s financial difficulties made her homecoming brief. Applying to the American Ballet Theater and being rejected because of her height, she approached the Ailey company where she was not only accepted into the company, but she was also “embraced” in her totality. 

Artistic Director Alicia Graf Mack. Photo by Andrew Eccles.

Her initial time with Ailey, from 2005 and 2008, allowed Mack to explore and hone other dance styles more deeply and to intellectually mature as a dancer.  After leaving the company to obtain a degree in non-profit management at Washington University in St. Louis, she returned to Ailey in 2011 where she enjoyed notable success as one of its premier dancers until 2014.   Mack then redirected her career and devoted it to education.

At a luncheon held in her honor at Chicago’s Auditorium Theater earlier this year, Mack talked about the people and experiences that led her from being an aspiring teenage dance professional to heading one of the world’s leading dance organizations. As she recounted her past, the emotional intelligence and natural humility she’s noted for were readily apparent.  In her remarks, the new artistic director recognized the wealth of experience, knowledge and talent resident in the Ailey staff and stated she would be relying on those resources to help her fulfill her mission.  She also credited the mentorship she received from dance titans, including Ms. Jamison, pioneering Black ballerina Lorraine Graves and the legendary Carmen de Lavallade.  The advice and counsel they all shared will prove valuable assets for the future.

Just as she balanced the need to adapt to tomorrow while respecting heritage at Juilliard, Mack addressed doing much the same in her new role with Ailey.  Not only is she mindful in honoring the “Ailey aesthetic”, but she also shared her interest in bringing in new choreographic voices to complement, expand and enhance the principles and values Mr. Ailey displayed in his work and that of the choreographers he admired.

Providing avenues for dancers to achieve fulfillment in their craft is also central to Mack’s mission.  One she’s shown to advance through an ethos of affirmation. 

As the climax to the Auditorium’s 2025-2026 Celebrating Women in Dance season later this month, the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater engagement at the theater is a welcome to Ms. Mack.  The three-day run will see two programs performed.  In addition to Alvin Ailey’s classic Revelations and an excerpt from Judith Jamison’s 2005 Reminiscin’, the remaining five dances are contemporary creations of pioneering luminaries in choreography.  All five works saw their world premieres in 2025.

Promethean Theatre Ensemble has announced it will perform the Lewis Galantiere adaptation of Jean Anouilh's ANTIGONE, from May 31 through June 28 at the Den Theatre. Anouilh's play, which premiered in Nazi-occupied Paris in 1944, was itself an adaptation of the Greek play by Sophocles, believed to have been written in 441 BC. In the original myth of Antigone, the heroine defies King Creon's decree forbidding the burial of her brother. In Anouilh's adaptation, Antigone's dilemma is recast as a choice between following one's conscience and moral code versus capitulation to a totalitarian government. The play was a covert symbol of the French Resistance, with Antigone's "No" to Creon mirroring the French refusal to submit to German occupation. Galantiere's adaptation of Anouilh's text, which premiered on Broadway in 1946 replaced Anouilh's formal French with accessible prose that frequently uses American vernacular and has become the preferred version of ANTIGONE for contemporary performances. It also lightly shifted the tone to make the parallels to WWII more explicit for American audiences who hadn't lived through the occupation. This version employs relatable characters, unexpected humor, and accessible yet poetic language. 

Promethean's modern dress production, set in present times in a city very much like ours, will be directed by ensemble member Elaine Carlson, whose many roles with Promethean include Eleanor in THE LION IN WINTER, and the title roles in THE MADWOMAN OF CHAILLOT and MRS. WARREN'S PRFOESSION. ANTIGONE will be performed from May 31 – June 27 at The Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee Avenue in Chicago.  The production will play through Saturday, June 27.

Carlson says,  "the theme of Sophocles' drama – choosing what is right over what is expedient - is timeless, but Galantiere's adaptation puts it into a setting that makes it even more immediate.  Maybe this time Antigone's courage will be contagious."
 
Carlson's cast will feature Promethean Ensemble members Heather Dennis as Antigone, Artistic Director Jared Dennis as Creon, Meghann Tabor as Ismene, Joshua Servantez as Haemon, Gunner Bradley as First Guard, Brendan Hutt as Second Guard, and Christina Renee Jones as the Chorus. The cast also includes marssie Mencotti (nurse), Gavin Blayne (Third Guard/ Messenger), Anthony J. Harris (Page), and Alex George (Eurydice). Understudies are Alex George (u/s Chorus), Anna Rose Steinmeyer (Antigone), Chris Lysy (Creon), Layke Fowler (u/s Haemon), Dame Grant (u/s Guards/Messenger), and Jennifer Mohr (u/s Ismene/Nurse/Eurydice/Page).

The ANTIGONE design team includes Trevor Dotson (Scenic Designer), Rachel M. Sypniewski (Costume Designer), Stefanie Senior (Sound Designer), RobbyMoe Reeves (Lighting Designer), Maureen Yasko (Violence and Intimacy Designer), and Tristan Brandon* (Props Designer). Also on the production team are Hayley Rice (Assistant Director), Alexa Berkowitz* (Production Manager), Esau Andaleon (Stage Manager), and Jeremiah Barr* (Technical Director).

• Indicates Promethean Theatre Ensemble member.

ANTIGONE
Written by Jean Anouilh, Adapted by Lewis Galantiere
Directed by Elaine Carlson
May 31 – June 27, 2026
Previews Sunday May 31 at 7 pm and Monday, June 1 at 8 pm
Regular Run: Thursdays – Saturdays at 8 pm, Sundays at 3 pm. Additional matinees on Saturdays June 13 and 20 at 3 pm
The Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee Ave., Chicago 60622
Ticket Prices: $35 general, $25 students and seniors
For tickets, visit https://www.prometheantheatre.org/project/antigone/ or The Den Theatre Box Office, 773-697-3830.

Contemporary adaptation of Jean Anouilh's poetic drama of a woman forced to choose between following her moral compass and obedience to the laws of her rulers. First produced under Nazi censorship in 1944 Paris, Anouilh's ANTIGONE explores the conflict between individual conscience and political expediency. Then as now, "going along to get along" wasn't tragedy from ancient history - it was personal tragedy with real world consequences.

It’s no secret every new dance season is filled with its own undercurrent of anticipation. Regardless of the company, audiences who follow them silently wonder what will be the prevailing theme that will dominate a troupe’s next major performance. What attributes will signal growth and maturity.  What kind of insights are going to be shared through a gifted choreographer’s storytelling skills.  What unexpected feat of technical or physical prowess is going to once again prove dance’s unmatched ability to translate the full scope our humanity.

Some companies can always be relied on to provide brilliant responses to those kinds of musings.  Giordano Dance Chicago (GDC) is one of them and their Ignite the Soul program at the Harris Theater for Music and Dance Friday night demonstrated that even with more than 60 years’ experience dancing at the top, the growing process never ceases.  The will and desire to keep striving, learning and absorbing does much more than simply avert atrophy.  It fuels the kind of energy that invigorates everyone on the stage and in the seats.  And it enables some of the galvanizing moments found in Ignite the Soul.

A broad ranging show that spanned genres of dance and artistic temperaments, half of the program’s six dance roster consisted of works that have never previously been performed publicly.  Two of the three world premieres were made possible by donors who, not so uncommonly, prefer to remain anonymous.

The show opened with resident choreographer Al Blackstone’s Latin inspired, Sana.  Receiving its own world premier last year, the dance lives as comfortably in the realm of contemporary dance as it does jazz.  Meant to evoke notions of healing, Sana highlights the beneficence of community and the power of the collective.  Thrillingly dynamic and often probing, Stahv Danker’s original score makes for a potent force that enhances Sana’s appeal.

Over the years, GDC has fine-tuned the way it incorporates film shorts to provide supporting information about the company, its history, its dancers, the choreographers it partners with and the wealth of community initiatives it conducts.  Each season these interludes become more polished and prove more indispensable.  One preceded each of the evening’s new dance segments; providing priceless insights into what fuels a talented choreographer’s creative process.  By the time tap dancer, choreographer and arts executive Mike Minery finished his explanation on how My Kind of Girl came about, you couldn’t wait to see the world premier he collaborated with GDC’s Artistic Director, Nan Giordano, to produce for the company. 

Adam Houston and Sasha Lazarus - photo by Zach Kemper.

Through his lead in, we learn how crucial tap is to much of modern dance and how instructive it can be to a dancer’s technical foundation.  Then we were reintroduced to how therapeutic and beautiful the dance form can be when Minery himself took to the stage with GDC’s splendid Erina Ueda to enrapture the hall with a gorgeous tap duet.  In this hyper-digitized, infamously disconnected world, My Kind of Girl is as analog as a warm hug and twice as pleasing.  Loaded with dance prowess of the highest level and bathed in Frank Sinatra’s silky voice backed by Count Basie’s band, the audience couldn’t help but cheer heartily after My Kind of Girl came to its swoon worthy close. 

Following that welcome touch of sweetness, the company brought out the flame throwers with Sabroso, a 2011 torcher crafted by Del Dominguez and Laura Flores.  Quintessential Giordano in its presentation, dancers shimmied and strutted their way through a sassy half dozen Latin dance styles that came packed with plenty of sensual heat.  Flaunting knock-out sequined costumes designed Nina G., the women in the company made sultry soar while their male counterparts wrapped machismo in a thick layer of sophistication.  Adam Houston and Analysse Vance picture perfect Bolero highlighted the exceptional individual artistry dancers bring to a performance.  The kind that always guarantees delight.

Something of the transformational arrived with Jon Rua’s namuH, a dance signifying the power and importance of love at its most basic and pure.  Rua’s video explanation of his personal background and the trajectory of his career from street dancer to choreographer ideally framed the dance that followed.  The word “Human” spelled backward, namuH feels as if it has one foot in the present day and one in the future.  Bjork and Stateless’s music draw an intense landscape.  Rugged and difficult.  Coupled with neutral, utilitarian costumes worn by the dancers and you sense a sterile almost bleak world.  The energy and magnetism come from the dance and the dancers who, despite any obstacle or hardship, invariably end up leaning on each other to keep on keeping on. 

The music, the way the dance unfolds, the unorthodox movements whose origins clearly derive from the grit of urban streets, all draw you in and leave you captivated.  As rewarding as the choreography itself is, the company’s dancers give it life by fully internalizing its precepts and projecting its message so beautifully.   

This is about as far away from jazz dance as you can get, but namuH’s central theme of cohesion and co-dependence; as well as the way it helps us see the latent generosity in all of us, make it an ideal match for this venerable dance company that can shape shift so elegantly.

Excerpts of Ronen Koresh’s 2015 Crossing/Lines preceded the night’s finale and final world premiere, Dumb Luck!, choreographed by Mr. Blackstone.   A salute to the country’s upcoming 250 anniversary and an intentional lighthearted salve to our erratic times, Dumb Luck!, with its nautical pastiche and post-war verve, is a happy escape to nostalgia.  Nina G.’s period sailor outfits take you right back to the grand old days of splashy Hollywood musicals.  Coasting on jazz gold via the sounds of The Nate King Cole trio, the Manhattan Transfer, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, dancers cavort while maintaining tight but jaunty dance formations.

A very fine effort, strengthening the dance’s core character would make it more even more distinctive.  

Whetting the appetite for more is what Dumb Luck! and the rest of the dances making up Ignite the Soul’s program do all too well.  Placing those expectation reveries about their next stage outing on high boil once again.

Ignite the Soul

Giordano Dance Chicago

April 10-11, 2026

Venue: The Harris Theater for Music and Dance

205 E. Randolph Street

Chicago, IL  60601

For more information about Giordano Dance Chicago:  https://www.giordanodance.org

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

The 1950s is easy to idealize. Men styled tailored suits, women dazzled in pleated dresses, and everything glimmered like it was in a commercial. Life’s troubles were solved with a talk from pop or a hug from mom – or that’s how it seemed. Drury Lane Theatre’s Father of the Bride transports audiences to that romanticized time, and it’s a welcome trip!

Published in 1949, Father of the Bride was adapted for the stage and screen, including two beloved movies starring Hollywood heavy-weights Elizabeth Taylor, Spencer Tracy, and, later, Steve Martin in 1991. While a wedding-gone-wrong may be a familiar story, director Michael Heitzman infused Drury Lane’s rendition with charm, laughter, and sincerity, making it feel fresh.

The play follows Stanley Banks, whose one-and-only daughter prepares for her big day, but she just wants a simple ceremony. Then again, she does want to invite all of her friends… and wants a beautiful dress… and well, by the time everything adds up, the small affair balloons into a whopping headache for dad.

Joe Dempsey’s portrayal of Banks, the set-in-his-ways father, is spot on, and his ad-libbed groans and physical comedy can’t help but make you laugh and empathize with poor, ol’ dad. He balances his old‑school bravado with the teddy-bear-interior so well, creating the heart of the story and avoiding the tired “dumb dad” troupes.

Aurora Penepacker and Jake DiMaggio Lopez in Father of the Bride. Photo by Justin Barbin.

Also making up the family is Rachel Sullivan, who plays the mother, Ellie Banks, with a gentle, confident air, and sons Ben and Tommy are portrayed by Kyle Ringley and Charlie Long, who bring charismatic Leave It to Beaver energy.

Aurora Penepacker plays Kay Banks, the soon-to-be bride with all of the charm of Elizabeth Taylor, and Jake DiMaggio Lopez is her moonstruck, in-over-his-head fiancée, Buckley Dunstan. Their chemistry is fun to watch as every emotion ping-pongs around as their nuptials draw near.

The ensemble also includes some fantastic performances. Michele Vazaquez portrays the tightly wound secretary, Miss Bellamy, who delivers a hilarious meltdown when every member of the family sabotages her efforts to finalize a guest list. Ed Kross brings quirky comedy as the caterer, Mr. Missoula, who steamrolls the Banks (and jumps like Super Mario), and Maya Hlava as Peggy Swift is an overzealous girl-next-door who plots to catch the bouquet.

The original compositions composed by Curtis Moore also deserve a shout-out. They serve as the perfect soundtrack during sequences which showed seasons changing or wedding gifts flooding in and add that extra something that makes you feel like you’re watching your favorite black-and-white sitcom.

Comedy can be tricky to tackle, but Father of the Bride makes ever beat work. It’s whimsical, playful, and a reminder that when things go awry, those you love will always be there. Father of the Bride is an invitation to a pure, wholesome evening, and it’s an invite you should not pass up.

Father of the Bride runs through May 31 at Drury Lane Theater. Click here for tickets and more information.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Theresa Rebeck’s Poor Behavior at Oil Lamp Theatre, directed by Lauren Katz, opens with the easy warmth of old friends reconnecting - only to reveal how quickly a shared history can curdle. Within minutes, the play exposes the messy, magnetic dynamics that will drive the evening off the rails.

Peter and his wife, Ella (Jack Morsovillo and Ksa Curry), have welcomed their longtime friends, Ian and Maureen (Sam Fain and Lauren Paige), to their getaway country home for what’s meant to be an easy, wine‑soaked weekend. At first, everything feels harmless enough: the four drift around the kitchen and dining area, chatting, teasing, negotiating snacks - Peter is fixated on getting ice cream, Maureen keeps the small talk humming - the kind of casual domestic bustle that suggests comfort and history. But the mood shifts quickly when Ella and Ian slip into a heated exchange. Their rhythm is so practiced, so charged, that it feels less like a friendly debate and more like a well‑worn battleground. The familiarity between them is startling; before the play has even fully settled, you can’t help but wonder whether these two are circling an old intimacy the others aren’t acknowledging.

Ella insists - almost with a kind of moral urgency - that there is still goodness in the world, that people are capable of generosity and grace if you’re willing to look for it. Ian, however, has no patience for her optimism. Once enamored with America when he first arrived from Ireland, he now sees the country through a far bleaker lens. Every example Ella offers is batted away; to Ian, America is a place that devours resources, exploits the planet, and disguises greed as virtue. His cynicism isn’t casual - it’s sharpened, almost weaponized - and the more Ella pushes, the more he digs in. The argument escalates until the air in the room feels charged and brittle, the kind of tension that makes everyone else freeze. And then, just as it threatens to tip into something truly damaging, they both pull back. Cooler heads prevail, apologies surface, and the group collectively pretends they haven’t just witnessed a fault line crack open beneath the weekend – for the moment.

Peter has known Maureen since childhood - his brother even dated her for a time - and that shared history lends their friendship an instinctive ease. Neither couple has children, a fact they use, somewhat conveniently, to justify how tightly they cling to one another’s company. But do they actually like each other as much as they claim? As the evening unfolds, small cracks begin to show. The conversation among the foursome is lively enough on the surface, yet it quickly becomes clear that each marriage carries its own quiet fractures. Then, when Maureen misinterprets a moment of consolation between Ella and Ian - whose father has just died, or so he says - the weekend tilts sharply off its axis. Accusations fly, lies multiply, manipulation takes root, and before long the polite veneer between these two couples is stripped away entirely.

(L to R) Sam Fain, Ksa Curry, Jack Morsovillo and Lauren Paige in POOR BEHAVIOR from Oil Lamp Theater. Photos by Gosia Matuszewska - GosiaPhotography.com.

At first, the “poor behavior” can be dismissed as simple drunkenness - after all, Ian has plowed through four bottles of wine on his own. But as the night wears on, it becomes clear that alcohol is only the accelerant, not the cause. Rebeck gradually peels back the layers on all four characters: Maureen, whose anxiety and emotional fragility leave her grasping for reassurance; Ian, who seems to relish stoking doubt and discomfort whenever the opportunity presents itself; Ella is idealistic but is clearly withholding something; it’s subtle, but the undercurrent of it hums beneath everything she does; and mild-mannered Peter, who defaults to denial, choosing avoidance over confrontation and clinging to the hope that he can simply walk away from the weekend as though nothing has happened. What begins as sloppy, alcohol-fueled bickering soon exposes the fault lines that have been waiting for the slightest spark to rupture.  

Sam Fain and Ksa Curry deliver two of the evening’s most arresting performances, their scenes pulsing with an undeniable, almost disarming connection from the get-go. Fain’s Ian commands the room with a dangerous charm, twisting conversations to his advantage while letting flashes of buried desire slip through the cracks, while Curry’s Ella meets him with a grounded emotional intelligence that reveals the deeper currents Rebeck threads beneath their exchanges. Lauren Paige brings a raw, aching vulnerability to Maureen, charting her spirals of insecurity with precision and empathy, and Jack Morsovillo anchors the chaos as Peter, his quiet restraint and mounting frustration giving the play its moral center.

The arguing is relentless, and the tension feels startlingly real. Under Lauren Katz’s direction, the world of Poor Behavior becomes a room primed to combust with every glance, pause, and interruption calibrated to reveal the messy, volatile dynamics between these four characters. Katz cultivates a realism so precise that the uncomfortable moments become genuinely unsettling, keeping us on our toes as we anticipate what might unfold next - good or bad. And though we may root for these couples to find their way back to solid ground, the production holds us captive with the stark authenticity of their unraveling, a truthfulness that makes the prospect of reconciliation feel increasingly remote. Rebeck’s script raises thorny questions about the strength of relationships, the dangers of complacency (or not – for some), the limits of tolerance, and the moment when “enough” finally becomes enough - and Katz ensures those questions echo long after the final scene.

The thoughtfully crafted set serves this play perfectly, which strengthens the production’s overall effectiveness. Trenton Jones shapes a kitchen‑and‑dining‑room layout that feels like a genuinely lived‑in countryside home. A staircase rises toward the suggested upstairs bedrooms, while just beyond the kitchen refrigerator sits the entrance to a ground‑floor guest room. The result is a spacious‑looking design that expands the world of the play and works remarkably well on Oil Lamp’s intimate stage.

Oil Lamp Theater’s well-paced Poor Behavior succeeds because every element - Rebeck’s incisive writing, Katz’s sharply attuned direction, and a quartet of deeply committed performances - works together to illuminate the muddled, contradictory ways people love, wound, and misread one another. The staging embraces discomfort without sacrificing its humanity, inviting us to recognize uncomfortable truths about ourselves in the chaos onstage. By the time the lights fade, we’re left with the uneasy understanding that relationships don’t always resolve neatly, yet the effort to navigate them is what makes us unmistakably human. It’s the kind of play that stays with you long after you’ve left the theater.

Poor Behavior is being performed at Oil Lamp Theatre through May 10^th. For tickets and/or more show information, click here.

Highly recommended.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Shakespeare’s comedies share a familiar architecture: mistaken identity, disguises, intersecting plotlines, a generous helping of prose, and language that delights in wordplay and double entendre. They are also, crucially, driven by sharp, intelligent women who often see more clearly than the men around them. With that foundation in mind, Chicago Shakespeare Theater’s production of The Merry Wives of Windsor leans confidently into these conventions - and then accelerates them - resulting in a delightfully mischievous evening.

Directed with precision and pace by Phillip Breen, the production wastes no time settling in. It moves briskly, almost breathlessly at times. Breen understands that comedy, especially Shakespearean comedy, thrives on rhythm. Doors must slam at just the right moment, disguises must be revealed a beat too late, and jokes must land before the audience has time to anticipate them. Here, the timing is razor-sharp, aided immeasurably by a cast of 22 actors who navigate the text with clarity and ease.

Max Jones’ set design cleverly situates Windsor in a contemporary world of affluence and quiet excess. This is a town where privilege is not just visible - it is assumed. Children attend private school, men play rugby, and women occupy a social sphere of lunches and shopping that doubles as a kind of informal power network. The Garter Inn, rendered as a dimly lit bar with a billiards table anchoring the space, becomes a playground for Falstaff’s schemes. In contrast, Dr. Caius’ sterile office reception area offers a clinical absurdity, while the Ford household gleams with white carpeting, glass, and sweeping staircases - its opulence undercut by the chaos unfolding within. A particularly fluid set change transforms the space with near-magic, reinforcing the play’s obsession with illusion and transformation. The final forest scene, textured with dirt mounds and trees, grounds the production just enough before it tips fully into theatrical fantasy.

What emerges most clearly in this production is the idea that Windsor is a world turned slightly askew. No one is quite what they claim to be. The knight, Sir John Falstaff, is anything but noble - he is vain, opportunistic, and gloriously ridiculous. The doctor, Caius, is less healer than hot-headed rival, perpetually threatening violence. The clergyman’s thick accent renders him a subject of humor rather than authority. Even the Justice of the Peace seems more eager for confrontation than civility. It is a community in which status is worn like a costume—and just as easily discarded.

Photo by Kyle Flubacker.

At the center of it all are the “merry wives,” who prove themselves to be the most grounded and perceptive figures on stage. Ora Jones’ Mistress Page and Issy Van Randwyck’s Mistress Ford  anchor the production with wit and composure. They are never merely reactive; they orchestrate the action, turning Falstaff’s attempted manipulation into a series of escalating humiliations. Their intelligence drives the comedy, ensuring that the laughter always has a point of view.

The supporting cast is equally strong. Chike Johnson’s Master Page exudes an easy confidence, while Timothy Edward Kane’s Master Ford leans fully into the character’s jealousy, finding both humor and unease in his suspicion. Nate Burger’s Dr. Caius is a comic standout, his bluster and indignation landing with delightful force. Nancy Voigts brings a bustling energy to Mistress Quickly, threading together the play’s many schemes, while Paul Oakley Stovall’s Justice Shallow captures the absurdity of self-importance.

And then there is Jason Simon’s Falstaff - a performance that embraces the character’s excess without apology. Legend has it that Queen Elizabeth I so adored Falstaff that she demanded to see him in love. Here, however, Falstaff is in love with nothing so much as himself. Simon leans into that vanity, crafting a figure who is both despicable and irresistibly watchable. His repeated downfalls never diminish him; instead, they reveal the elasticity of his ego.

Ultimately, this production succeeds because it trusts the mechanics of Shakespearean comedy while fully committing to its world. Disguises are embraced, identities are blurred, and language sparkles with innuendo. Yet beneath the laughter lies a sharper observation: that power, status, and even identity itself are often performances. In Windsor, everyone is playing a role - some just play it better than others.

Highly Recommended

When:   Through May 3

Where:  Chicago Shakespeare Theater 800 East Grand Avenue in Chicago

Tickets:  $60 - $120

Box Office: 312-595-5600

Info: www.chicagoshakes.com

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Lyric Opera of Chicago’s film‑with‑live‑orchestra series has become one of the city’s most engaging hybrid arts experiences, transforming the opera house into a cinematic concert hall where classic films gain new dimension through live performance. Recent presentations such as Singin’ in the Rain (February 2025) and Coco in Concert (October 2025) have showcased how a full orchestra can elevate familiar scores, bringing warmth, clarity, and emotional immediacy to every musical moment. The format takes full advantage of Lyric’s grand acoustics and visual scale, allowing audiences to rediscover beloved movies with a heightened sense of drama and immersion. It’s a rare blend of nostalgia and spectacle - a celebration of film and music that feels both timeless and newly invigorated each time the orchestra begins to play. Now, the series continues its momentum as Anthony Parthner leads The Lyric Opera of Chicago Orchestra in performing the cherished score to Mary Poppins.

Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins.

Released in 1964 and starring a dream duo of Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews, Mary Poppins follows the magical arrival of an extraordinary nanny who descends - quite literally - into the lives of the Banks family on Cherry Tree Lane. As the children, Jane and Michael struggle under the strict expectations of their distracted father and the anxieties of their well‑meaning mother, Mary Poppins brings order, wonder, and unexpected joy through a blend of firm guidance and whimsical adventure. With the help of her cheerful friend Bert (the loveable chimney sweep), she leads the family through imaginative escapades that reveal deeper lessons about connection, kindness, and the importance of seeing the world with curiosity. By the time she departs, the Banks household has been transformed, not by magic alone, but by the rediscovery of affection and unity.

This film is an ideal showcase for the Lyric Orchestra, and they rise to it beautifully. The score for Mary Poppins was composed by the celebrated songwriting team Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman, whose work helped define the sound of Disney’s mid‑century musical era. Known as the Sherman Brothers, they created a bright, whimsical, and emotionally rich collection of songs that blend clever lyricism with instantly memorable melodies. Their contributions to the 1964 film produced some of Disney’s most enduring musical moments - from the exuberant “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” to the gentle poignancy of “Feed the Birds” - shaping a sonic identity that remains inseparable from the film’s legacy. Their score not only set the tone for Mary Poppins but also solidified the Shermans as two of the most influential composers in the Disney canon.

Conductor Anthony Parnther.

Lyric Opera of Chicago was especially thrilled to welcome Anthony Parnther to the podium, a conductor whose versatility and musical sensitivity made him an inspired choice for a score as iconic as Mary Poppins. One of the busiest conductors in Los Angeles and a world‑class bassoonist with an international performance career, Parnther brought both technical precision and a keen ear for orchestral color - qualities that served him well in shaping a live performance of this beloved film soundtrack. Watching him work was a genuine pleasure. His approach emphasized clarity and warmth, guiding the orchestra in a way that honored the Sherman Brothers’ classic melodies while subtly enhancing the film’s emotional contours in real time. For Lyric, his leadership reflected not only artistic excellence but a continued commitment to presenting musicians who could seamlessly bridge concert performance with cinematic storytelling.

With the success of its recent live‑to‑film presentations, Lyric’s film‑with‑live‑orchestra series continues to build steady momentum, and the company is already preparing for its next project: a live orchestral performance of Amadeus in 2027. Mary Poppins in Concert Live to Film is presented in a limited engagement on April 10 and 11. Click here for more information.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

As I entered the black box studio at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, I’ll admit - I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Before leaving home, I’d watched the news: the endless cycle of violence, bombings, and that tired “us versus them” narrative that seems to define our moment. My spirit felt worn down. On top of that, I had spent the day finishing a review from earlier in the week, so I arrived more drained than inspired. Theatre, on this night, felt like an obligation.

Then Mrs. Krishnan’s Party happened - and everything shifted.

Instead of the usual routine of being guided to my seat by The Saints, I was greeted at the door by James (Justin Rogers), dressed in an outfit that immediately caught my attention. He asked my name. We talked. It wasn’t forced or performative - it was genuinely human. By the time he led me to my seat, the invisible barrier between audience and performer had already begun to dissolve. He introduced me to the people around me: to my left, a well-traveled gentleman from Ohio by way of India; to my right, a mother and daughter who helped identify James’s attire as a South Indian costume, rich with cultural specificity. Already, I wasn’t just watching a show - I was part of a group.

That’s when I realized we were not simply audience members, but guests of James, who was hosting a surprise party for his landlady. The occasion is Onam - a vibrant harvest celebration rooted in the southern Indian state of Kerala. What unfolds is not just theatre, but an act of radical hospitality. Music pulses. Conversations bloom. Strangers become co-conspirators in joy. This show is more than immersive - it is enveloping, dissolving the line between performer and audience until you’re no longer watching a story, you’re living inside it.

This approach is the hallmark of Indian Ink Theatre Company, the New Zealand-based ensemble behind the production. Founded by Justin Lewis and Jacob Rajan in the late 1990s, the company has earned an international reputation for creating intimate, actor-driven works that blend South Asian storytelling traditions with contemporary theatre. Their work explores identity, migration, and cultural hybridity through a deeply human - and often humorous - lens. More than anything, they prioritize connection: their productions don’t just tell stories; they build shared experiences.

And that’s what undid me.

Photo courtesy of Indian Ink Theatre Company.

When Mrs. Krishnan (Kalyani Nagarajan) finally arrives, she is startled to find the back of her small shop filled with strangers. There’s hesitation - this wasn’t her plan - and beneath it, something heavier lingers. As the evening unfolds, we begin to feel the weight she carries: the loss of her husband, the quiet ache of a son - an architect - now gone. These moments settle into the space with a tender gravity, reminding us that her warmth is hard-earned.

And yet, just as the story begins to lean into that sorrow, the play grabs and lifts us again. Laughter breaks through, balloons appear. Music returns. The room brightens. What begins as disruption transforms into delight as she embraces the gathering and, in a gesture both intimate and communal, decides to cook daal for all of us. In that moment, grief and joy exist side by side—each making space for the other.

Somewhere between the laughter, the dancing, and the smell of daal, the heaviness I carried into the theatre dissolved. Not in a naïve or escapist way, but in a way that felt necessary. Soundly directed by Justin Lewis, the show doesn’t ignore the fractured world outside; it quietly insists on another possibility within it: community, warmth, shared humanity.

By the end of the evening, I realized I hadn’t just watched a play - I had been in community with people different than me, yet deeply the same. In a time when division dominates the headlines, Mrs. Krishnan’s Party offers something deceptively simple and profoundly radical: a room full of strangers choosing, for a moment, to be together.

And that, right now, feels like everything.

Recommended

When: Through May 3rd
Where: Chicago Shakespeare Theatre 800 East Grand Avenue in Chicago.
Tickets: $74 - $90

Box Office: 312.595.5600
Info:  www.chicagoshakespeare.com

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Depending on the source, Bat Out of Hell ranks among the top‑selling albums of all time, so its eventual leap to the stage in 2017 felt almost inevitable. Written by Jim Steinman and performed by Meat Loaf, the album’s grandiose ‘70s sound hardly suggests a post‑apocalyptic narrative, yet that’s the unexpected framing audiences encounter here. Meat Loaf’s music has always thrived on high‑energy rock‑opera theatrics  - a powerhouse voice wrapped in oversized emotion and unapologetic melodrama -  so while this storyline wouldn’t have been my first guess for a theatrical adaptation, it surprisingly fits. What works especially well is the way the show taps into the romantic rebellion that defined his performances, echoing the presence of an artist who approached each number as a miniature piece of theatre.

For its one‑night‑only performance at the Auditorium Theatre, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical opens with a confident burst of energy, pairing Steinman’s masterful songbook with a theatrical approach that’s more measured than its reputation suggests. Rather than presenting Meat Loaf’s iconic album as a straightforward rock spectacle, the creative team leans into the material’s operatic sweep and dystopian romance, shaping it into a visually engaging and musically cohesive piece of rock theatre. In the Auditorium’s spacious setting, the cinematic staging and amplified aesthetic settle in comfortably, allowing the show’s size to register without overwhelming the story at its center.

Set in the neon‑lit sprawl of post-doomsday Obsidian, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical centers on the charged relationship between Strat (Conor Crowley) - the eternally young leader of a band of renegade teens known as The Lost - and Raven (Carly Burns), the sheltered daughter of the city’s iron‑fisted ruler, Falco (Travis Cloer). Strat moves through a world shaped by rebellion and restless freedom, while Raven has grown up behind barricades built as much from fear as from concrete. Caught between them is Sloane (Tori Kocher), Falco’s long‑suffering wife, whose presence adds a more human counterpoint to the household’s rigid control. Their intersecting tensions spark a collision between desire and authority, youth and power, with Steinman’s sweeping rock anthems amplifying every emotional turn.

As Strat and Raven navigate the risks of their forbidden bond, the story widens to reveal the fractures within Falco and Sloane’s marriage - a counterpoint that exposes the weight of time, compromise, and regret. Meanwhile, The Lost struggle to hold onto their identity in a city determined to contain them. The narrative unfolds less as a traditional plot than as an atmospheric journey, laced with youthful rebellion and driven by Steinman’s music, which propels the characters through a world where love becomes both an act of defiance and a means of survival.

The show’s design builds around Steinman’s biggest showstoppers, threading them through the narrative with the kind of theatrical sweep that has long defined his work. Signature numbers such as “Bat Out of Hell,” “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That),” “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” delivered with standout vocals and sizzle from Travis Cloer and Tori Kocher, form the musical backbone of the evening, each landing with the scale and intensity fans expect. Rather than serving as simple nostalgia cues, these songs shape the emotional architecture of the production, driving its crescendos and giving the story much of its momentum. Their presence underscores just how enduring - and theatrically adaptable - Steinman’s catalog remains.

As the production’s central pair, Conor Crowley and Carly Burns offer grounded, complementary performances as Strat and Raven. Crowley brings a clear vocal presence and an easy confidence to the role, while Burns provides a calm, steady counterpoint that helps shape the emotional arc of their scenes together. Their dynamic feels natural and unforced, giving the story a solid center without overpowering the production’s broader stylistic choices.

Production phot of Bat Out of Hell - The Musical by Chris Davis Studio 2

The ensemble moves with an easy rhythmic cohesion, offering strong vocal moments that add texture and dimension to Jay Scheib’s vision. Their presence helps fill out the world of Obsidian, giving the production momentum even when the staging remains intentionally spare. Scheib’s use of a live onstage cameraman adds another layer, capturing close‑up details that are projected onto two large overhead screens and lending the performance a subtle filmic quality. The choice works on both a practical and stylistic level, allowing the show to shift between the intimacy of the camera lens and the broader sweep of the stage. What initially feels like a distraction quickly becomes part of the visual language of the production, blending in so seamlessly that the cameraman all but disappears from notice.

The physical world of Bat Out of Hell - The Musical unfolds across a vast industrial landscape that captures the fractured, glow‑soaked atmosphere of Obsidian. The set itself is relatively simple, but the production makes sharp use of dynamic lighting to build atmosphere, scale, and momentum. A towering network of platforms, staircases, and metal scaffolding creates a vertical playground where the cast can vault between levels and stage the show’s most high‑energy moments. One of these platforms houses the live band, led by Greg Paladino, whose presence adds both immediacy and a welcome sense of rock‑concert authenticity.

Bat Out of Hell threads its spectacle with clear symbolic beats: The Lost, frozen in age, embody youth suspended between rebellion and stagnation, while Obsidian’s crumbling, fluorescent‑hazed skyline reflects a society shaped by fear and control. Strat and Raven’s romance becomes a tug‑of‑war between liberation and confinement, and Falco’s fortress stands in for every system determined to hold change at bay. Even the production’s constant motion suggests a world enthralled by spectacle yet uneasy with evolution.

It’s gratifying to see that the legacy of Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf continues to reach new audiences, while also resonating with longtime fans - some of whom sing along to every word of certain songs throughout the performance. The material’s larger‑than‑life sound remains a recognizable cultural marker, and this musical now holds a distinct place for many who appreciate the intersection of rock and musical theatre.

In the end, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical isn’t aiming for subtlety, but that’s part of its charm. It delivers an energetic surge powered by Steinman and Meat Loaf’s expansive songbook and a cast that commits fully to every moment. The storyline undoubtedly edges into corniness here and there, yet it matters little when the production is this unabashedly fun - and the sheer force of the music makes the ride worthwhile on its own.

The bat may well fly back again someday, but for now, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical arrived as a one‑night‑only event. For more information, visit https://batoutofhellmusical.com/.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.