Displaying items by tag: Vanessa Stalling

A smash hit in London and New York, "The Lehman Trilogy" is now on stage in a definitive production at TimeLine Theatre. Written by Stefano Massini, adapted by Ben Power, and co-directed by Nick Bowling and Vanessa Stalling, it's easy to see why this Tony-winning tale of an unimaginably successful Bavarian immigrant family has enthralled audiences. (The run has already been extended through November 26 at Broadway in Chicago's Broadway Playhouse at Water Tower Place). 

Lights up on a stage covered in boxes, desks, chairs, phones, and screens, the whole space resembles a giant office (due to Collette Pollard’s smart design). Henry Lehman (played brilliantly by Mitchell J. Fain) stands at the edge of a platform, spotlight on his face. He addresses the audience, re-telling the character’s arrival to New York from Bavaria in third person, in a lyrical style that resembles a novel. The whole play is structured as such: the actors do more telling than showing, and narrate the action before embodying it, creating a sort of Brechtian distance between stage and audience. This seems to work in the plays favor, for the most part, as the narration is infused with humor, poetry, and information.

Soon enough, the actor embodies the first Lehman brother to arrive in the United States, gains an accent, and compares America to a music box. As a twinkling melody begins to play, Henry Lehman steps down and begins to set up his first shop in Alabama.

Shortly after, the two other brothers come into the picture. Henry becomes the head of the trio, while Emanuel (Anish Jethmalani) is described as the arm, and Mayer (Joey Slotnick), the youngest, works as the middleman between them. We watch the brothers negotiate and grow their business, adapting to an everchanging America, going from fabric to cotton to banking. The three actors play not only the brothers, but every other costumer, partner, wife, and child- sporting an impressive array of accents and physicalities. Each character has quirks of their own, which helps engage the audience and balances the amount of narration. Phillip, for instance, who is Emanuel’s son, is particularly comical. A neurotic boy from a young age, it is clear that he is destined to lead the Lehman Brothers Corporation. The audience laughs as a 16-year-old Phillip negotiates eloquently with United Railways, as his father watches aghast.

The design certainly helps bring the show to life, lights and sound and costume working together to take the audience on a journey that spans over a century. The simplicity of the set, lights, and sound, generally more suggestive than prescriptive, allows time to move forward fast, actors to shapeshift in the blink of an eye, and progress to hit the world of the play like a cannonball.

In a visually astonishing sequence, the American civil war is recreated on stage, through the simple use of explosion sounds, flickering lights, and papers thrown high into the air. This level of theatricality, along with the fascinating family dynamics and exploration of assimilation and loss of culture, lets the play move away from lecture and towards entertainment.

It comes as no surprise that capitalism is intertwined with all aspects of our daily lives, but seeing a group of men sitting around a table and deciding to introduce the idea of marketing onto American society, and to make buying an instinct rather than a need, that realization becomes more obvious than ever. Both a short history of 20th century American economy, and an intergenerational story of a Jewish family working towards the American dream, “The Lehman Trilogy” is highly recommended for any theatre lover with an interest in historical work. 

Timeline Theatre's production of "The Lehman Trilogy" runs through November 26 at Broadway in Chicago's Broadway Playhouse at Water Tower Place. 

Caryl Churchill’s ‘Fen’ is a tragic love story laid out against a complicated backdrop. Set in the 1980s, we meet Val (Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel), a mother of two, who wants to leave her husband because she has fallen for another man, Frank (Alex Goodrich). She planned for them to take her children and run away to London, but Frank won’t go, so she settles for moving in with him.

But Val’s husband will neither divorce her, nor surrender the children to her. She must return to him to be with them. Equally, Val cannot live without Frank. Betwixt these irreconcilable poles, Val unhappily lives, and the dismal pallor of her internal conflicts settles over the two lovers like a dark cloud.

The playwright strips the passion from this ill-fated romance, giving us a utilitarian core by which to examine the oppressive constraints, grounded in economics, Churchill seems to say, under which women labor with futility to find fulfilling lives.

Val charges through the play seeking some way to come to shed the unhappiness. She meets other women who cope or compensate by several means - religion, drink, cruelty - and none of these ways work for her. So she just suffers, and it is Frank’s unhappy lot to be her partner in it.

The love story is a bit like Lady Chatterly’s Lover, whose aristocratic heroine sacrificed all to live happily ever after with her working-class paramour. Unlike the well-heeled Lady Chatterley, Val’s attempts to find happiness in her love are thwarted by circumstances, and she can find no solace.

The other dimension to ‘Fen’ is the succinct and searing portrait of a very dark world. Val and Frank are among a populace of poorly paid tenant farmers working under oppressive overseers in the Fenland, a fertile reclaimed coastal marshland in the east of England. Locals harbor resentments from generations of feeling exploited by profit-seeking landowners. 

Once a paradise where people lived off the land and fishing, the Fenland is a dismal place where dreams die, or never are born, a place of hopelessness. The play gives us a succinct portrait of the increasingly impersonal nature of the landowners, as local farms and the estates of gentry alike are snapped up by ever-larger global agri-businesses. It is in the exploration of these aspects of the Fenland that Churchill's immense skills as a wordsmith and playwright shine. It is why she is regarded as a pre-eminent English playwright - recalling 'A Number' at Writers Theatre still gives me chills -  and the chance to see a serious presentation of any of Churchill's works is not to be missed. 

Churchill’s script has been given a fully realized production, with a beautifully constructed set (Scenic Design by Collette Pollard) dominated by rows of potato fields, the stage big enough for a full-sized tractor to roll through. Director Vanessa Stalling orchestrates excellent performances from a sprawling roster of 22 characters, played by just six actors, as is the playwright's intent. Yet there is no confusion for the audience as actors reappear, playing as many as five characters, with distinctive costumes ((Izumi Inaba) and dialect (Eva Breneman). One key to understanding the action is to follow the character of Val, the only role played by Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel. Especially noteworthy are the performances of Alex Goodrich - the only male cast member - and Elizabeth Laidlaw.

Depending on your taste in theater, ‘Fen’ may seem bewildering, but it is entertaining nonetheless. While Churchill frames big ideas in the play, she is also a master at dialog, and the characters are colorful personalities engaged in intriguing repartee.'Fen' runs at Chicago’s Court Theatre through March 5.

Roe V Wade might be the law of the land now, but playwright Lisa Loomer’s new play “Roe” suggests that it’s always been on shaky ground. Directed by Vanessa Stalling, ‘Roe’ makes its area debut at Goodman Theatre with a big cast of familiar faces.

In “Roe” Lisa Loomer pieces together the life stories of both the plaintiff (Jane Roe, played by Kate Middleton) and the ambitious young lawyer Sarah Weddington (Christina Hall)  who argued the case all the way to the supreme court.

Like the old telephone game, stories have a way of changing from telling to telling. The origin story of Roe V Wade is complicated and varies depending on who you ask. Lisa Loomer digs deep into the hearsay and rumors to compose what feels like a thorough account. When she’s unsure, or she found conflicting versions of the same event, she uses character asides to clarify. The effect brings a humorous tone to what could be a dreary subject matter for some.

The play is a non-linear, often scattery, look at the process it took to win the case as well as the checkered past of Roe, later outed as Norma McCorvey. While many American women champion the right to choose, it’s hard to avoid the exploitation narrative that would ultimately lead McCorvey to a tabloidy life in the years following the case. 

What could sound like a living history report, is anything but. Instead, Loomer’s use of structure and theatrical storytelling make this play leap off the stage. She’s good at finding the heart of the historic figures she’s writing of. The cast also brings a lot to the material. There’s something tragic and relatable to Kate Middleton’s performance. She really gets into the psyche of someone easily taken by the whims of the world around them, and sadly getting taken advantage by them too. Her transition from Jane Roe plaintiff to internationally known figure and subsequent rejection of abortion says a lot about the state of reproductive and religious education in America. 

“Roe” is not a play about abortion, that’s only part of the story. The irony is that the famous plaintiff never did get the abortion she sought. As Sarah Weddington once argued, this isn’t a case about being pro-abortion. This is a case about a woman’s right to decide what is best for her own body. 

Roe V Wade changed America, but even almost 50 years later it’s still being challenged by the religious right. Abortion was legalized on a national level as a result of the case, but when you include all the stipulations, its hard to call it entirely legalized. In fact, some states today have less than five clinics that perform abortions. Every election cycle, more and more restrictions are made on abortion. “Roe” makes a case for why we cannot have collective amnesia on the facts of this case. It serves as an education as well as a rallying cry to anyone in America who calls themselves a feminist.

Walking in as curtain time neared for Photograph 51, the towering set took my breath away: a backdrop nearly three-stories tall, built of a latticework of delicately framed, vertical windowpanes with spiral staircases swirling down at each end, to meet a floor of foot-square hexagonal tiles.

Heavy quarter-sawn oak laboratory tables and cabinets filled the setting, a research lab that would play a pivotal role in the discovery of the structure of DNA molecules. As the play commenced, illumination flowed down the pillars of the window panels and along the irregular channels at the edges of the tile, creating an electrifying vision - mimicking the hexagon shape of those DNA molecules.

Strains of an evocative original score swelled as the action began in the laboratories of King’s College in London - the site of crucial research that led to the now familiar double helix structure of DNA molecules described by University of Cambridge researchers (and eventual Nobel laureates) James Watson and Francis Crick.

This play tells of unsung research heroine in that saga, Rosalind Franklin (played excellently by Chaon Cross), a chemist whose X-ray crystallography photographs (Photograph 51 was the big one) that provided a visual key unlocking the riddle of how DNA molecules were structured.

Watson (Alex Goodrich) and Crick (Nicholas Harazin) went on to Nobel glory, as did Franklin’s research partner Maurice Wilkins (played by Nathan Hosner), while Franklin’s pivotal role was largely forgotten. That is, until Watson’s outrageously misogynist portrayal of her in Double Helix, his autobiography. As the rare creature of her day, a woman research scientist, Franklin suffered the critiques of male peers that are familiar - she wasn't feminine enough, was hard to get along with, made the least of herself in dress and style. Needless to say,  these were taken more seriously in the 1950s. 

"Why collaborate with someone who's hard to get along with," as one of Franklin's peers puts it. Nonetheless, in this retelling of the story, Franklin asserted herself, insisting she be accorded equal respect, and resisting attempts to subordinate her research to her male lab partner, Maurice Wilkins.

"Dr. Wilkins, I will not be anyone's assistant," Franklin tells him, and she insists he refer to her as Dr. Franklin. 

Watson’s characterization of Franklin in Double Helix was widely criticized. Harvard, where Watson was teaching, refused to publish it.
Watson’s reputation and career has also been devastated by his advancement of theories that there is a link between race and intelligence.

Having lost his income, he became the only Nobel prize winner who to sell his award. U of C, which sustains the Court Theatre, may be trying to get on the right side of the issue by presenting Franklin’s story on stage – though it might want to revisit the distinguished alumni award it made to Watson in 2007. 

Would that the play measured up to such worthy goals, and the promise of its sets by Arnel Sancianco (scenic design), Keith Parham (lighting) Jeffrey Levin (sound). Instead, we have a show with great acting and production values – it reminds me of a Netflix pilot film – but with a story line, yet only a wandering plotline.

Plays need a drama to succeed, and instead we are given a timeline. All very interesting, to be sure, but not gripping.
As a result, instead of Franklin being the star of her own story, she is a supporting character. The closest thing we have to a protagonist is her partner Wilkens, who secretly carried a torch for her. That these scientists are such a nerdy bunch must have made it all the more difficult for playwright Anna Ziegler to develop the work. It was a success in London starring Nicole Kidman. The University of Chicago lent its academic bona fides and knowledge base to Court Theater’s production, and that greatly enriches the show.

There are moments, to be sure, including a wonderful soliloquy on the loneliness of a scientist's pursuit of knowledge. Likewise, the tortured moments of Wilkins, who struggled to recognize and express his feelings for Franklin.

We have a wonderful theatrical spectacle, and the direction by Vanessa Stalling made the most of Photograph 51, “mining Ziegler’s text for all its thematic complexities,” as artistic director Charles Newell puts it. Watson & Crick’s discovery in 1953 of the double helix changed history, and our view of ourselves as humans. The knowledge of DNA’s role – and the potential for engineering new directions using it – is the basis for a world of change in arts and sciences.

Photograph 51 is an illuminating story, and we are fortunate it is being told so beautifully - and perhaps that is enough to recommend it. The show runs through February 17 at Court Theatre.

*Now playing through February 23, 2019

Before I set foot in the Goodman’s Owen Theatre to see the Chicago premier of Sarah DeLappe’s acclaimed play The Wolves, I tried not to read or hear or learn too much about it. I knew it had been a finalist for a Pulitzer, and won other awards. I knew it was about a girls’ high school soccer team. And that was about it.

The first tidbit informed my own expectations – this ought to be good, I figured. And the second informed who I’d bring along – my own 14-year-old soccer-playing daughter. I was excited that the subject matter might excite her, sure, but was more intent on using her as a litmus test for not just the play’s quality, but its authenticity. And boy, did we both find that it delivered on both counts.

While the play’s 20-something playwright and cast might seem like whippersnappers to an old dude like me, their ilk are positively elderly to a teen. After the play, my daughter admitted she’d been worried that the presentation would be the usual – what old people think young life is like these days. But The Wolves portrayed young life – the young life of today, of yesterday, of time eternal – in a way both dad and daughter found realistic. That is, the play portrayed life realistically.

Sarah DeLappe’s script sets up this portrayal like a champ. After the play, I read that DeLappe was influenced by old war movies – the kind where a gang of guys gain personal revelations in the face of greater situations – and I can see that. I also sensed the influence of 12 Angry Men or Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs – art that finds greater truths by plopping a disparate troupe of characters into a script. But instead of machine guns and military rations, instead of a jury room or a bank heist, the troupe on the Goodman’s stage was armed with shin guards and phones and backpacks and headbands. But the idea was the same – flesh out a story by fleshing out the people telling it. DeLappe tells her story through her girls’ banter as they stretch and warmup before a series of soccer games. Her gift for said banter is something else – making it sound like how not just girls talk, but how people talk, as the characters flit from discussions of world events to feminine products, from hopes and dreams for the future to the sex and sexuality that seems so pressing in their present. Talk goes from Pol Pot to periods, from weirdoes who live in “yogurts” to punk rock chicks who lick coffeehouse microphones. The stuff real people talk about. And how real people talk about that stuff.

And, more than any play I can remember, director Vanessa Stalling’s production of a team shows it takes a team to pull it off. First off, the cast is great. Those grown-up ladies onstage could totally, like, pass as a gaggle of teen girls. And that’s not to belittle them or the material they’re working with. Most likely because I’m a nerd, myself, I connected with Sarah Price’s neurotic know-it-all, #11 (yes, the characters are only identified by jersey number, further enforcing the team concept, and further highlighting how both script and cast breathe life into these nameless roles). As the team captain, #25, Isa Arciniegas is – to continue the earlier war motif – Pattonesque in a Napoleanic package. Cydney Moody’s #8 is the moody one. Angela Alise’s #00 is the lonely goalkeeper. Erin O’Shea is the red-headed, homeschooled, yogurt-livin’ outsider (think Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls, except with mad ball-handling skills). And the heart and soul of the team are Natalie Joyce and Aurora Real de Asua. Joyce’s #7 has the mouth of a sailor but the problems and insecurities of a girl, while #14 is the ego to 7’s adolescent id. The teammates kick around conversations as feverishly and randomly as they do their soccer balls, again making it sound not just like how high school girls talk, but how people interact.

The teamwork on display does not stop with the script and its interpreters, however. Collette Pollard’s set gave this soccer dad, who’s spent too much time hanging out at fields both outdoors and under domes, flashbacks. Lighting by Keith Parham is spot on, as are the musical choices by sound designer Mikhail Fiksel, both providing energy and intensity that match the actors’.

And so, this whole team comes together to not just tell a story of young girls, but of people. What starts as dissonant and diverse digressions between types and tropes turns into a realistic back-and-forth you’d hear not just on the field or in the mall or in a classroom, but at work, on the train, in the checkout line, on the street. Given great material to work with, the cast and crew of the Goodman Theatre’s production of Sarah DeLappe’s The Wolves give us something that’s funny, sad, uncomfortable, cute, ugly, and beautiful – that is, art that pulls off the rare feat of feeling like real life. And, like, my teen daughter seconds that!

*Extended through March 18th