Displaying items by tag: Fine Arts Building

Elizabeth McGovern’s embodiment of Ava Gardner in Ava: The Secret Conversations, now playing at the Studebaker Theater inside Chicago’s storied Fine Arts Building, is a riveting study in fragility, fire, and fierce self-preservation. Written by McGovern herself, the play peels back the layers of Gardner’s tumultuous life and career beginning with the tale of her debilitating stroke - when the spotlight had dimmed but her spirit refused to flicker out. 

McGovern opens the play with a moment of unexpected intimacy: she tells her ghostwriter about a day in the park when she and her girlfriend—both dealing with mobility issues in their late fifties—fell and found themselves laughing uncontrollably, unable to get up but utterly delighted by the absurdity of it. It’s a scene rich with vulnerability and joy, but her ghostwriter dismisses it as dull and bleak, insisting that audiences crave the glitz and scandal—her marriages with Frank Sinatra and Mickey Rooney, the dark chapters with Howard Hughes, the abuse, the abortions. Those stories do surface later, rendered with cinematic flair through a series of stylized video projections across the stage, but it’s that quiet, human moment that sets the emotional tone.

Rather than channeling the iconic bombshell of The Killers or Mogambo, McGovern inhabits Gardner as a woman in her sixties: physically impaired, emotionally raw, and intellectually unrelenting. She’s not chasing nostalgia - she’s clawing back control and as she states clearly - she needs the money!  

The play’s narrative draws from Peter Evans’ posthumously published book, Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations, which documents Gardner’s attempt to enlist Evans as her ghostwriter. Their dynamic - equal parts seductive, combative, and tragically entangled - drives the drama, revealing a star who’s no longer performing, but finally speaking.

McGovern’s Ava is a woman marked by the aftermath of a stroke - her movements are slower, her speech thickened, and her patience often frayed. Yet pity never enters the room. What McGovern delivers is not a portrait of decline, but of defiant survival. She taps into Gardner’s acerbic humor, lingering sensuality, and aching remorse with a candor that borders on confession. The voice, though physically changed, becomes a sharpened tool: gravelly, intentional, and edged with irony. It’s not the voice of a fading star—it’s the voice of a woman who refuses to be erased.

One of the most quietly heartbreaking moments in Ava: The Secret Conversations arrives when Gardner reflects on the loss of her singing voice - not the voice itself, but its erasure. Cast as Julie in Show Boat (1951), she had trained, prepared, and delivered a performance that could have opened doors to multiple revenue streams like a career in music or the Broadway stage. But the studio dubbed her vocals, stripping away not just a sound, but a future. “They stole my voice,” she tells the ghostwriter, her tone heavy with sorrow. “They silenced my voice.” The line lands like a wound - personal, professional, and irrevocable.

For Elizabeth McGovern, Ava: The Secret Conversations is more than a performance - it’s a homecoming and a reckoning. Raised in Evanston, she steps onto the Studebaker stage with the quiet authority of someone returning to familiar ground yet determined to carve something new. Her bond with Ava Gardner runs deeper than biography; it’s a shared lineage of women shaped - and often constrained - by the spotlight. Both endured the seductive pull of fame and the relentless scrutiny of Hollywood’s male gaze.

By writing and starring in the play, McGovern reclaims not only Gardner’s voice but her own. It’s a gesture of artistic defiance, mirroring Gardner’s late-life attempt to seize control of her narrative before it was rewritten or forgotten. In McGovern’s hands, the production becomes a dialogue across decades - between two women, two eras, and the enduring fight to be heard on their own terms

Barefoot for much of the performance - a nod to Gardner’s iconic role in The Barefoot Contessa - McGovern embodies her with a beguiling mix of childlike vulnerability and the unapologetic grit of a grand dame who’s long since stopped caring what anyone thinks. Her voice slinks through punchlines and strikes with precision when pain surfaces. When she briefly recounts the abuse endured in her marriages and career, her delivery is scalpel-sharp. The dynamic with the journalist - played with just the right cocktail of reverence and irritation - fizzes with tension, like ice clinking in a highball glass. 

And the Studebaker Theater itself - nestled in the Fine Arts Building, with its gilded history and intimate charm - feels like the perfect setting for this smoky, seductive tale. The set which portrayed her feminine elegant bedroom was delightful and had wonderful lighting effects, including a rainstorm. The space amplifies the play’s confessional tone, wrapping the audience in velvet shadows and whispered truths.

Elizabeth McGovern’s career is doused in versatility, spanning film, television, theater, and even music with effortless grace. She first made waves with her Oscar-nominated turn as Evelyn Nesbit in Ragtime (1981) and quickly cemented her screen presence in acclaimed films like Ordinary People, Once Upon a Time in America, and The Handmaid’s Tale (1990). On television, she became a household name as Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham, in the beloved series Downton Abbey, where her performance radiated quiet strength, emotional precision, and aristocratic warmth. But McGovern’s artistry doesn’t stop at the screen - she’s a seasoned stage actor, frequently appearing in London and U.S. productions that showcase her affinity for complex, emotionally rich characters. Offstage, she leads the folk-rock band Sadie and the Hotheads, revealing yet another facet of her creative spirit. Whether she’s channeling historical icons or breathing life into original roles, McGovern brings a signature blend of intelligence, subtlety, and enigmatic charm to everything she touches.

McGovern’s performance in this highly engaging production is a workshop in charisma and control. She’s Ava Gardner with a twist of existential lemon, served in a room where truth and fiction flirt shamelessly and truth wins out. 

The painful reality is that Ava Gardner, discovered at just 18, was exploited and mistreated from the moment she entered Hollywood. Coming from deep poverty, she was especially vulnerable to the industry’s most insidious traps - the ones that have ensnared countless young women whose beauty made them targets. That Elizabeth McGovern not only stars in but also wrote this rich, layered, and deeply compelling theatrical work is extraordinary. I truly hope it reaches a wide audience—it deserves to be seen.

Highly recommended!

AVA: The Secret Conversations is being performed at Studebaker Theatre through October 12^th. For tickets and/or more show information visit https://www.fineartsbuilding.com/events/ava-the-secret-conversations/. 

*This review is also shared on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/!  

When an opportunity arose to see a sneak preview of a new musical about President Barack Obama, there was a clash amongst younger generations to see who would get the chance to see it. Though it has been nearly two decades since Barack Hussein Obama was inaugurated into his first term, the allure and awe of the man still resonates to this day. His presidency was a historic event, a pivot point for our nation marked by hope and positivity and grace under pressure. It was no surprise to me that so many writers jumped at the opportunity to see a sneak preview about 44 – The Musical about the former beloved president.

Barack Obama’s election changed history. And as we can clearly see, it also ended racism forever! But 44 is the story of Obama you won’t read about in the history books…because history books are now banned in most states. But also because 44 is the story of Obama as Joe Biden kinda sorta remembers it.

44 – The Musical is a satirical, unofficial, and unsanctioned musical about the rise and presidency of Barack Obama, told from the perspective of then Vice President Joe Biden. It boasts itself as a satirical political musical featuring over twenty original songs with titles such as “M.F.O.”, “F*&# You Ted Cruz”, and “How Black is Too Black.” In the few musical numbers showcased, it was too difficult to discern whether this musical is anything more than a cash-money grab capitalizing on the nostalgia and love of the former president. The musical numbers performed featured tag lines repeated ad nauseum during Obama’s terms, mother-f*&#ing-Obama, there are no red states or blue states, they even showcased a stereotypically campy comedic relief with a ‘sleepy’ Joe Biden narrating the events.

The musical was written and directed by former Obama campaign staffer Eli Bauman whose wry and acerbic comedic styling was evident even in the brief showcase. From the beautifully shot B-Roll footage and hype videos played, one would think this musical is poised to become the next Broadway darling. There is no denying the talent of the actors and singers, belting out beautiful riffs and runs that tickle your brain, but there doesn’t seem to be much substance for them to work with.

44 – The Musical strikes me as a satirical farce written with good intentions but lacking depth and meaning. Stereotypes seem to abound in the musical, and it appears to be banking on Chicagoans' love and admiration for Barack Obama to draw people through the doors of the Studebaker Theatre. It’s tough to say how the musical will be received in the competitive Chicago Theatre scene. There’s no shortage of talented writers in the Windy City, shows that start on time, and plays and musicals that leave you wanting more. It’s not clear whether 44 – The Musical will be a one-term or two-term play, but it’s safe to say it hopes for the best. 44 – The Musical will be playing at The Studebaker Theatre (410 South Michigan Avenue Fine Arts Building, Chicago, IL) in a limited run from August 23-September 21, 2025. Tickets are available at www.44theobamamusical.com/tickets.

Good news! The future of American opera is looking very bright, indeed! The beautiful and moving new opera, The Scarlet Ibis, was presented last Saturday and Thursday by Chicago Opera Theater as part of their Vanguard Initiative, a program to mentor emerging opera composers, commission and develop new operas, and connect audiences to exciting new works and creators.

The opera, with music composed by Stefan Weisman and libretto by David Cote, is based on the short story of the same name by James Hurst. If this touching, extraordinary production is indicative of what we can expect in the future from COT’s Vanguard Initiative, this is a great day for opera!

Lyrical and atmospheric, the music draws upon the best of 20th century American opera, not in a derivative way, but as you might say that Verdi’s style organically grew out of the Bel Canto tradition of Donizetti and Bellini, which depended upon compositional elements of Mozart and Gluck, which were spawned by Handel, Vivaldi, and Lully. The greatness of these composers was entirely dependent upon those who came before, and established a knowledge base of how to compose for the human voice. Much of the difficulty that many audiences have had with modern American opera, especially mid to late 20th Century opera, is that the compositional styles of those composers were created out of whole cloth, with no prior vocal tradition which allowed their music to be sing-able. The Scarlet Ibis, however, shows a burgeoning maturity in the compositional style and technique of modern opera. Although scored for a small ensemble, the open harmonies and folk-like strains of Weisman’s music are reminiscent of Copeland. Arpeggios and repeated patterns (don’t call it “minimalism”) hint at influence from composers such as Philip Glass and John Adams, although this work is mostly melodically sweet and flowing, without those driving rhythms associated with works by Adams or Glass. And when called for theatrically, the music becomes nearly Stravinskian, with more complex harmonies and lush texture. However, Mr. Weisman has found a voice of his own, guided by the demands of the drama, and the abilities and needs of the human voice. The vocal writing seemed tailor made for the remarkable cast, and lines that were eminently sing-able carried the listener along for an enthralling ride.

As in Copeland’s The Tender Land, the libretto is artfully crafted to capture the colloquial time and place of the story with succinct economy of language. Nevertheless the narrative is clear, with defining voices for each individual character. Every scene is simple, but imbued with a deep sense of poetry and humanity.

David Hanlon conducted with sensitivity and expertise, bringing out the loveliness and power of the score. Under his capable direction, the nine piece orchestra played superbly, without some of the pitch problems in the strings which have been disappointing in earlier productions. Hanlon was always there for the singers, fluently in control as if The Scarlet Ibis was an opera he’d known and loved for years.

Stage and Movement Director Elizabeth Margolius is the kind of opera director who seems to be more and more rare, these days. She is a director who completely trusts her singers and her material to be inherently interesting on their own, without the need to add a lot of meaningless stage business and movement because she is afraid that the audience will become bored. She understands that a singer does not have to be in constant motion, and that a good singer can remain perfectly still, that time can slow down and stretch, yet there will still be intense focus and attention from the audience. This is especially useful when the leading character can’t walk. Doodle’s “Lie” aria, in which he sat nearly perfectly still, was a stellar example. On the extremely simple, but versatile and attractive unit set, Ms. Margolius used the space with great imagination and skill. Nothing ever happened which didn’t make sense. Every movement, every sound, was expertly motivated and realistic.

Set in the home of the Armstrong family in the north-eastern Piedmont region of North Carolina, just after the Wright brothers had made human flight successful at nearby Kitty Hawk, the imagery of the possibilities of the flight of the human soul pervades The Scarlet Ibis. It is comprised of 13 brief titled scenes in one act, and runs just over an hour and a half, although it seemed to take only half that time. Each scene featured an event in the lives of the small rural family over the course of about six or seven years. The opera opens in a fairly straightforward manner. Six year old Brother, the family’s only child, is joyfully anticipating the birth of the family’s second child, who he hopes can be a companion with whom he can run, and jump, and fight, and play. The focus then shifts to his mother. In a scene unique in opera, in our experience, she is having a difficult childbirth. It is quickly apparent that if the baby survives, something will be terribly wrong. It is a boy, but he is a “caul” baby, a child who is born with part of the amniotic sack covering its head like a cowl. Many mystical qualities are attributed to caul babies and to cauls, themselves. Caul babies are reputed to have abilities such as second sight, great creativity, and unfettered imaginations. Cauls themselves, are prized by sailors to prevent drowning, by lawyers to help them win cases, and are thought by some Adriatic cultures to aid in the peaceful passing of the dying. Most disappointing to Brother, the baby also has a severe, but unspecified disability which leaves him incapable of walking and being the playmate that Brother wanted. In a fit of pique, Brother gives the baby the nickname, Doodle, because the only thing a doodlebug can do is push itself around backwards. However, Doodle is special in other ways, teaching himself to read by the age of four, with a flawless and prodigious memory, and an unparalleled imagination.

Jordan Rutter, as Doodle, was a revelation – a term we do not use lightly. He radiated pure innocence with an underlying poetic soul. His countertenor voice, soaring above all the others as the highest vocal part in the opera, is unusually pretty for the type. Mr. Rutter’s singing was moving and affecting throughout, especially in the ensembles and the duets with Brother. Equally remarkable, are Mr. Rutter’s acting skills. As an adult playing the role of a very young child to the age of about seven, he has a directness, simplicity, and economy of movement which are riveting in their expressivity.

Likewise, mezzo-Soprano Annie Rosen was thrilling in the “overalls” role of Brother, playing a boy who ages from about six to thirteen throughout the opera, with a total commitment to her character. She has a gorgeous, clear voice with an extraordinary color palette. She sang with talent, intelligence, and sensitivity, going from boyishly silly or mocking tones to a full, rich sound in moments of deep expressivity. Ms. Rosen is not a large woman, yet she exhibited an impressive physicality and strength as she lifted and carried the adult male actor playing Doodle around in the kind of stage action not usually expected from a female singer. Her future in opera should be brilliant. Both Ms. Rosen and Mr. Rutter made us completely forget that they are adults playing the roles of very young boys.

We have been continuously delighted and impressed with the talent of baritone Bill McMurray. His sturdy baritone is capable of a range of color that bordered on fearsome as Ibn-Hakia in Iolanta earlier this season, but was warm and paternal in this role. He portrayed the role of Father with pathos, dignity, and an uncanny honesty. Every time Father is faced with a crisis, either of sadness or joy, he goes to his shop to build something by hand for Doodle. He is a proud and loving man with little education and few resources, but he has knowledge and talent with wood, so he does the best he can with what little he has. He is not fluent or articulate with words, so he expresses himself through his craft. Each time Mr. McMurray went to his shop, it brought tears to our eyes, either from sadness or gladness. His “Coffin” aria was heart wrenching in the direct simplicity of a father’s pain. Later, when Doodle’s physical disability threatens to also stunt the growth of his mind by confining him to his home, Father expresses his frustration at not being able to afford a bicycle for his son by building him a red wagon in which to explore the world. In his “Red Wagon” aria, McMurray perfectly captures a simple working man’s determination to make his son’s life better than his own.

COT Young Artist alumni Quinn Middleman brought tenderness and a gentle presence to the role of Mother. Her fine, warm mezzo-soprano voice easily met the challenge of vocal demands which included musically notated high notes for sung screams and groans during the first scene’s difficult childbirth. Ms. Middleman musically gave us all of a woman’s pain, fear, agony, joy, and strength while in the throes of one of life’s essential moments. It is common for singers to die on stage, but we have never heard one give birth. However, when Mother discovers a newspaper article about a doctor in Chicago who might offer the possibility of a cure for her son’s disability, Ms. Middleman touchingly exchanged excitement and optimism for the pathos of the forlorn hope of an unattainable goal.

Contralto Sharmay Musacchio sang the role of Auntie. She seemed hesitant at times, as if she needed a little more time with the role to get it into her voice and find the truth in the character. Her performance, while not quite up to the high standard of her colleagues on stage, was more than adequate and did not detract. It’s just that the rest of the singers were so darn perfect in their roles.

It should be noted that music written for three female voices of the same general type and range could have been muddy and undistinguished. However, Mr. Weisman’s excellent vocal part writing, abetted by perfect vocal casting choices on the part of COT, was always marvelously clear and distinct, allowing each of the voices to shine with characterization.

The singers were joined by dancer Ginny Ngo, who portrayed the Bird, the title role, if you will, physicalizing the opera’s overarching and multifaceted theme of flight. Ms. Ngo appeared variously as a doppelgänger for Doodle, a rather spooky owl, as the actual scarlet ibis, and as Doodle’s soul free from the confines of his deformed earthly body. Whether representing the flight of imagination, the flight of the human spirit, or the flight of the human soul, Ms. Ngo’s movement was birdlike, but brimming with human emotion. In the disquieting penultimate scene, the ibis finally appears, storm blown far from where it should be and out of place in an inhospitable environment, like the not-normal little boy.

Scenic Designer Jack Magaw provided the creative and workable set. Charlie Cooper’s breathtaking lighting design was at once clean and atmospheric, while actually being illuminating. Even in scenes which were dark, emotions on the singers’ faces could still be seen clearly. The costumes designed by Brenda Winstead were appropriately plain, yet never uninteresting. An especially nice and amusing touch was Doodle’s goofy pilot’s helmet subtly reinforcing the flight symbolism. How gratifying to see all elements of a production come together in service to the whole of the work. We laughed, cried, hoped, celebrated and mourned with the Armstrong family.

Only one performance remains, Sunday, February 24 at 3:00 p.m. at The Studebaker Theater in the Fine Arts Building. If this review gets posted (without typos) and you are reading this before then, change whatever plans you may have and go see this marvelous production. Let’s hope it will be presented soon and often by other companies. It is a worthy addition to the American Opera repertoire.

Go to www.chicagooperatheater.org or call (312)704-8414.