Displaying items by tag: Joshua Servantez

Maybe it’s good for a theater reviewer sometimes to be … befuddled? Disquieted? Stupefied? Certainly my companion was. He’s not new to things theatrical, but has seen little of Chicago’s signature storefront ‘tiny black box’ theatres that I love so much. So Redtwist Theatre's "Wolves" was a pretty strenuous piece to cut his teeth on!

"Wolves" is presented as "a gay re-imagining of Little Red Riding Hood." This description is decidedly misleading; "How Her Hood Got So Red" might be closer. The script is by Steve Yockey, who served as co-executive producer for "Supernatural," a Netflix series. Yeah, "Wolves" fits right in with that. So do not attend "Wolves" thinking ‘fairy tale’ (and for god’s sake do NOT take the kids!). The only real tie to Little Red is the axe hanging prominently on the wall. If you faint at the sight of blood you’ll miss half the show. Just sayin’.

Let me introduce the guys: Ben (Joshua Servantez) has recently moved from a small town to the big city, a transition that has elevated his neurotic anxieties to a truly alarming level. It doesn’t help that his ex-lover Jack (Gardy Gilbert) has moved in as a roommate / friend … and you know how well that sort of arrangement tends to work, especially when they have disparate views on what ‘ex’ means. We get much of this backstory from the Narrator (Monique Marshaun) who, with a snap of her fingers, stops the action mid-syllable and saunters onstage for appraisal, elucidation, and explication, including her ever-more-probing exegesis of the guys themselves.

Here’s how the story unfolds. Narrator has been trying to get Ben a little better acquainted with reality, but you know how it is with anxiety – logic truly doesn’t help. At length he just crawls into bed and pulls the covers over his head. Jack appears, resplendent in black lace bodystocking, black leather harness, and an adorable red velvet … what was that? Not a hoodie, not a cloak … let’s go with "abbreviated hooded frock." (I simply must interject an impassioned plea for Costume Designer Madeline Felauer to make one of those for me!)

Gardy Gilbert (Jack) and Joshua Servantez (Ben) in "Wolves" from Redtwist Theatre

So now here’s Jack, dressed to the nines and looking thoroughly delectable. He tries to sneak out of the apartment but Ben wakes and they embark on a deranged folie au deux: Jack wants to go to the bar but Ben insists it’s dangerous. There are people … no, wolves … out there in the dark, and they’re sure to rend Jack limb from limb. Ben offers orange chicken, Netflix, Yahtzee – anything! But these tempting alternatives work about as well as you’d expect with a guy who’s in the mood to get laid. [Ben offers that as well – remember those disparate views I mentioned? – but that’s a no-go too]. Our sympathies vacillate between Ben, who’s authentically (if psychoneurotically) terrified; and Jack, who’s now thoroughly frustrated on several fronts.

Jack finally makes it out the door, leaving Ben to obsess over wolves in the dark. The Narrator commiserates and eventually manages to get him back into bed and a fractious sleep.
He is (thank god!) still sleeping when Jack returns with his trick (Michael Dias), whom he insists on calling Wolf. A truly hilarious scene follows – Jack makes inept advances but is preposterously ambivalent about jumping Wolf’s bones, in yet another case of distinctly disparate views! Ben wakes up (naturally) and has the predictable reaction, particularly when Jack introduces his new inamorato as Wolf. At length Ben goes reluctantly back to bed.

If I go any farther I’ll start running into spoilers. Suffice it to say that, unlike Little Red Riding Hood, the carnage is not the final outcome but just another plot twist. [Note: The theatre considerately marks the seats where you might get splashed.]

The production was truly awesome. The set is the first thing you notice of course, and Scenic Designer Rose Johnson left plenty of room for the (considerable) action: one couch, one drinks cart, and one bed (in a weird little alcove festooned with red streamers), and that’s it. Oh, no, wait: there’s also an axe. With Costume Designer Madeline Felauer they’ve created a totally dichromatic production – everything, but everything, is red and black. And I’d be remiss not to repeat kudos to Felauer’s costumes. Ben and Wolf were dressed normally (in black and red), but Narrator Marshaun was gorgeous in a teensey weensey little black dress and stiletto heels. And as for Jack … Gardy Gilbert gave Felauer a stunning canvas to work with, and she made him stone scrumptious.

They all acted as good as they looked, truly! – but I have to give a hefty dose of the credit to Lighting Designer Piper Kirchhofer for helping to set the emotional tenor of each scene. It ain’t easy to light that tiny black box, but she managed famously! Same goes for Music Director Philip Matthews and Sound Director Angela Joy Baldesare; together they gave us just the right aural backdrop. Just out of curiosity, I wonder how often in their career Props Designer Evy Burch has had to provide an actual bucket of blood (for Mashaun to drizzle and dapple and dump).

I regret to say that the violence wasn’t always convincing. It may have been my perspective, off to extreme stage left, but I think Fight & Intimacy Director Courtney Abbott still has some work to do. Mind, my bar is set high – just last week I saw Duchess of Malfi, and the Babes with Blades rival Quentin Tarantino for gratuitous gore!

I’ve already said all four actors were superb, but I’m not going to just leave it at that. Servantes (Ben) was masterfully neurotic – he’ll probably have to get over a few tics behind this role! Narrator was a challenging part, but Marshaun was perfect, and super-funny! Gilbert (Jack) managed the ultra-rapid badinage masterfully, and Dias (Wolf) simply rocked my world.

"Wolves" is perhaps one of those hybrid pieces: it’s comedic but not a comedy; it’s about love and sex but it’s not a romance; tragedy doesn’t really fit either, and calling it slasher would be oversimplifying. Yockey braids all these genre together into a droll, poignant, blood-curdling whole.

The "Wolves" script is all about timing: one must act at exactly the right split second to keep the duologues surging along at breakneck speed: Ben and Jack had a great many ultra-rapid exchanges with never a bobble. And the abrupt finger-snap stop-actions giving Narrator the floor were executed flawlessly. That kind of precision is only possible with exceptionally skillful direction. Luckily, WOLVES was directed by Dusty Brown, with Assistant Kezia Waters. Brown is awesome, and they did their usual splendid job with "Wolves."

FYI, Brown is also Redtwist’s artistic director, so look for lots of good stuff from Redtwist this season. Their next production, Larry Kramer’s iconic NORMAL HEART, is almost sold out already, despite its not even having definite dates yet! Redtwist has a grant from City of Chicago for renovation, and will put on a new face and extra amenities without sacrificing its signature little black box vibe.

My increasing cognizance of all that’s happening behind the scenes has given me special appreciation for the Stage Manager, and my hat’s off to Raine DeDominici. "Wolves" was a complicated show. What does a stage manager actually do? Everything.’"Wolves" could have been total bedlam; would have been, without DeDominici’s extraordinary guidance and governance. Kudos, kudos.

In summary: do not buy tickets to "Wolves" if you’re looking for a pleasant, relaxing evening. Expect to leave "Wolves" feeling bewildered, rattled, stunned, disquieted … and awestruck. One final caveat: when I left the theatre I was really glad it’d been a matinee and the sun was still shining. In fact, I’m going to try to limit myself to matinees for a while. There’s "Wolves" out there in the dark.
"Wolves" plays at Redtwist Theatre through November 5

Sometimes a play or a piece of music has such an effect on audiences that they can’t control themselves. Just as the premiere of Stravinky’s ‘Rite of Spring’ caused a stampede among patrons, John Millington Synge’s ‘The Playboy of the Western World’ incited a riot in its 1907 Dublin debut. Perhaps it was the political climate of Ireland at the turn of the century, or perhaps Synge’s play hits on a subliminal level not fully understood. The reaction was replicated in many cities in its American tour shortly after.

City Lit Theater revives ‘The Playboy of the Western World’ under the direction of Brian Pastor. Synge’s play tells the story of a strange man who comes upon a rural Irish alehouse and regales the crowd with a grizzly confession of murder. Christy Mahon (Joshua Servantez) is a meek farmhand who bashes his father over the head with a gardening spade. Though in disbelief at first, the villagers around the pub eventually take his word. Christy is raised in esteem among these simple folk as a hero as he explains the wickedness of his father. Soon he’s being chased by all the maidens in town, but two in particular vie for his affection. The alehouse owner’s daughter Pegeen Mike (Michaela Voit) and the Widow Quin (Brenda Wlazlo) become the two biggest contenders for young Christy’s heart. Emboldened by their pursuit of him, Christy starts getting a big head forgetting the once timid version of himself.

‘The Playboy of the Western World’ employs a large cast and in Pastor’s production the players work well together. Accents can sometimes be the Achilles heel of any production, but dialect coach Carrie Hardin’s work pays off. There’s a cohesion to the accents that help immediately place the audience in a time and place without distraction.

Michaela Voit is enchanting to watch as the young suitor to the flailing Christy. Joshua Servantez has all the charm and slapstick physicality to effectively communicate the shift in his persona once he becomes the town mascot. Though, the most touching and emotionally evocative performance comes from Brenda Wlazlo.

While the political turbulence of early 20^th century Ireland was in full swing at the time of this play’s premiere, there’s almost no mention of anything political in the play. In fact, despite its gruesome premise, ‘The Playboy of the Western World’ is a comedy. Synge’s characters end up idolizing Christy even more knowing he’s a murderer. In that regard, it would appear that very little has changed in 120 odd years. Perhaps that was the reason for the rioting during performances.  

‘The Playboy of the Western World’ fully lives up to its title. In this play we see an unredeemable character scheme his way to the top through dishonesty and vanity. The indictment of Irish morals is hard to argue by today’s standards, and so instead it remains relevant in its cheeky sense of humor and poetic dialogue. City Lit has mounted a faithful production that offers a great opportunity to acquaint oneself with this classic play.

Through August 14^th at City Lit Theater. 1020 W Bryn Mawr Ave. www.citylit.org