Directors say Caryl Churchill’s Love and Information is a challenging play, but in good hands, it is a treasure. And this is what we have at Trap Door Theatre’s production – an absolutely enthralling experience directed by Kim McKean.

It is like a tightly scripted improv show, packed with familiar personalities, some of them offbeat, playing roles that could share the stage in Lily Tomlin’s “Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe.” McKean’s accomplishment becomes clearer when you realize Love and Information brings us more than 100 sometimes loosely identified characters, mostly appearing as couples or trios, in a series of short scenes that end in blackouts.

These are gathered into seven sections, and within each, Churchill requires the director to set the order of the scenes and assign the roles. To further spice it up, the script packs an eighth section of scenes intended to be sprinkled at will in the show wherever they seem to fit.

And those scenes! Listing heavily toward couple encounters, Churchill shows us how information becomes a form of emotional currency in relationships. Couples share (or withhold) knowledge, leveraging it to gain power, debilitate, bond – or just plain flirt. A representative sample:

• A girl whose rare nerve condition doesn’t let her feel pain asks a man to explain what pain is. (He compares it to a failed love affair.)
• A man tries to impress an adoring girl by describing his research in animal learning, but ends up clinically describing dissection of chicken brains involved in his work. (She is not put off.)
• An aspiring male suitor brings a young girl a red flower. On his knees as her feet, his heart is full and open. She thanks him for it, profusely. Then too profusely, launching into a rattling, seemingly endless manic riff about how we see red, things they will do together, envisions a day trip on a train….as she goes on and on, he wilts.

Admittedly it is difficult to describe humor, and really which Churchill gives us is a dark and coldly clinical look at the world and those we share it with. Love and Intelligence doesn't traffick in sentimentality. It opens with a scene in which people are moving mechanically and seemingly inexplicably on the stage. A man enters the crowd, apparently paranoid. Then the electronic dance music rises and we see it is like a dance floor at a rave, and suddenly everything makes sense - but Churchill has pulled back the curtain and we cannot unsee the uncomfortable social aspects of that dance floor.  A  Here's a sample scene with a man who doesn’t recognize his wi

But I am your wife.

You look like my wife.

That’s because I am. Look, even that little birthmark behind my ear. Look.

Yes, I see it. It’s me.

Darling sweet, it’s me. I’m here.

No, she’s gone. They’ve all gone. Who’s gone?

Everyone I know. Everyone who loved me.

No, I love you.

I don’t want you to love me, I don’t know you.

There’s things only we know, aren’t there. That day on the beach with the shells. You remember that? Yes, of course. And cabbages. Why is cabbages a funny word, we’re the only ones who have cabbages as a joke because of what happened with the cabbages. Cabbages is a joke, yes?

Cabbages was a joke I shared with my wife. I miss my wife.

But I am. . . Let me touch you. If you’d see what it feels like to touch me. If we made love you’d know it was me because there are things we like to do and no one else would know that, if I was a stranger pretending to be her I wouldn’t know those things, you’d feel you were back with me, you would I know, please.

You disgust me. You frighten me. What are you?

Director McKean has made the most of this formula, selecting and ordering carefully from this smorgasbord of very fine writing, packing dozens of carefully honed mind-bending scenes by Churchill. Among Britain’s top ranking playwrights, Churchill is known best known this side of the Atlantic for her Cloud Nine or Top Girls. Most recently Chicago had a chance to see her Dark Mirror-style A Number, a stunning 2012 thriller produced at Writer’s Theatre in Glencoe last year. And McKean also brought in a spectacular cast, willing to go with a blank slate that evolved into this fine show: Whitney Dottery, Jake Flum, Brian Huther, Emily Lotspeich, Michael Mejia, Emily Nichelson, Keith Surney, Lilly Tukur, Carl Wisniewski. Love and Information runs Thursdays, Fridays and Saturday’s through October 19 at Trap Door Theatre, 1655 W. Cortland in Chicago.

When we meet Paul Morel, he is just being born. A bearded gentleman off to the side offers commentary on the scene as the nurses attend to his mother.

That narrator turns out to be D.H. Lawrence, and he reappears regularly in Sons and Lovers, adapted and directed from Lawrence’s breakthrough 1913 novel by Mike Brayndick. It is seeing its delayed U.S. premiere at Chicago’s Greenhouse Theatre.

Featuring a cast of 11 in 16 roles, Sons and Lovers brings the heart of Lawrence’s book onstage in just over two hours. The semi-autobiographical work centers on life and loves of Paul Morel (Miles Borchard), a proxy for Lawrence. His mother Lydia (Amy Gray) has married beneath her station, and is emotionally estranged from her coal miner husband Walter (Stephen Dunn), channeling all her love onto her sons Paul and William (Brian Boller, who also plays Lawrence as narrator).

To some degree, Sons and Lovers lends itself naturally to the stage, with patches of dialog that carry over intact. But not everything would fit, and Brayndick deftly excises and merges numerous scenes to keep the action moving.

Brayndick has done other literary adaptations, and his skill shows in Sons & Lovers. Greenhouse previously presented his versions of 19th century works by Turgenev - Home of the Gentry - and Balzac’s Pére Goriot. Sons and Lovers was originally commissioned by Traffic of the Stage in Hampstead, England, and it toured the UK, including London’s Bloomsbury Theatre, in 1996.

As the title suggests, Lydia Morel’s sons are engulfed in their mother’s needy attentions. Walter flees to a good accounting job in London, fulfilling his mother’s upward economic aspirations. This relegates Paul to an even closer interdependency with her.

An artistic, sensitive type, he explores love in two polarities: innocent and exploratory with Miriam, a girl on a nearby farm; and a more torrid affair with Clara Dawes (Emma Brayndick), a woman who is separated from her husband.

Adaptations raise the question, Why not just read the book? In a novel, our minds bask in the inner lives and travails of characters. Onstage, there is an expectation this should all be leading somewhere. What we get here is a tremendously sensitive and effective presentation of a great literary work. As a drama, it is immersive, and interesting. But as theater it is limited to following a lifeline as its plotline.

Still Sons and Lovers is engaging, in no small measure because of the memorable performances of the cast, with Midlands and other accents nicely polished. Noteworthy are Brian Boller in the dual role as Lawrence’s older brother William, and narrator Lawrence (though frankly it took me some time to figure out he was two characters). Stephen Dunn is outstanding as the coal miner Walter. Likewise for Baird Brutscher in the roles of Edgar Lievers and Baxter Dawes. And Corrie Riedl is innocent sweetness personified as the farm girl Miriam Lievers. Tina Shelley as her mother, and Pete Blatchford as Paul’s supervisor Mr. Pappleworth deliver sharp performances in small roles.

Most notable are two who carry the weight of the show: Amy Gray as Lydia Morel, Paul’s mother, who grows and ages in the role convincingly; and Miles Borchard as her son, Paul. Borchard is striking in inhabiting the role so naturally. Onstage nearly in every scene, Borchard reacts continuously to those around him, and develops a portrait of an unselfconscious young man navigating the exploration of life, and love – exactly the character D.H. Lawrence placed in his pages. Sons & Lovers runs through September 29 at Greenhouse Theater Center on Lincoln Ave.

Out of Love by Elinor Cook examines the dynamics of a close, at times even unhealthy and overly enmeshed relationship, between two women friends. Cook artfully displays that elusive quality of intimacy that courses between people who are too close – an almost inexpressible aspect of the attraction that keeps even an improbable pair of friends inseparable their whole life long.

Since they were little, Grace (Laura Berner Taylor) and Lorna (Sarah Gise) have been like twin suns in an unstable orbit. That metaphor is apt in many ways. Drawn inexorably into each other’s lives, their needs and dependencies vary as they grow up, and they circle each other in a wobbly trajectory.

The two pledge to leave town and go away to college. As humans mature, their emotional needs vary, and so Grace and Lorna’s dependence and co-dependence continuously changes. The gravity of their emotional attraction and needs vary in intensity with age and their stage in life, as we meet these girls at all different points in their adulthoods, adolescences, and childhoods.

Grace is more neurotic and has suffered more emotional deficits growing up in a violent and poorer household, while Lorna seems to have had a more supportive home life and more stable upbringing. During teen years and early adulthood, Grace - perhaps responding to jealousy - seduces Lorna’s boyfriend, and ends up pregnant. Grace consigns herself to motherhood, and almost too quickly abandons her aspirations, while Lorna moves ahead. But we suspect the path of life must inevitably have divided for these two – leaving was too much of a reach for Grace.

Out of Love jumps around in time and place in a brisk series of vignettes, opening with a scene in adulthood, and jumping back to and from childhood and adulthood. The trio of actors offers an excellent performances - Peter Gertas (Actor 3) plays a variety of male figures – boyfriend, dad, brother, lover. Gertas is excellent in this shape shifting performance. The selection of British dialects (the script’s vocabulary won’t allow for Americanized language) establish social stature and are sufficiently well honed to accomplish their purpose.

This is an exceptionally good theatrical piece, and is receiving an excellent U.S. premiere now by Interrobang Theatre Project, where it is directed by Georgette Verdin at the Rivendell Theatre. But I found I just didn’t care about this extensive exploration of two women’s emotional angst, and the quality of the performances could not overcome my lack of engagement. One suspects that this is really a movie in waiting, where the intimate portrayal of Grace and Lorna would be more effective with a tight close-up of their suffering faces on a big screen.

Kiss produced by Haven Theatre (and playing at The Den Theatre) is a stealthily crafted play. Delightfully engaging, loaded with laughs, it tells the story of two couples, none married, who double date regularly to watch soap operas at one of their apartments.

Kiss is also a theatrical event for Chicago: the production of a play by celebrated screenwriter Guillermo Calderon. He wrote Sundance winner "Violeta Went to Heaven;" "The Club," a Golden Globe nominee and winner at the Berlin Intl. Film Festival; and "Neruda," another Golden Globe nominee that was also a lauded at the Canne’s Film Festival. His plays are performed across Europe and in New York, including Neva, Diciembre, Speech, Quake, and Escuela.

The play Kiss opens as the good looking Youssif (Salar Ardebili) half of one couple, arrives at the apartment of comely Hadeel (Arti Ishak), the girl from the other couple. The two engage in friendly banter, mostly play-acting lines from the show. After awhile, though, the banter begins shifting to role playing scenes from the soap opera, and the tone gets more seriously heated and amorous, in an over-the-top melodramatic style.

Like the TV shows, Kiss loaded with thwarted passion and impossible liaisons. That familiar soap opera-style music loudly punctuates the scene, as the soap opera jumps from screen to real life. In a real soap opera, the music is intended to conjure tension, or suspense. But here, it conjures up laughs from the audience – who were wildly amused by the overheated performances.

The characters struggle for words – they know the passion, but they don’t have a script. We hear clumsy lines like, “The heart is a big muscle, and yours is larger than normal,” and “You can love two women at a time,” or “I want to watch you eat and then lick your plate when you are finished.”

The role playing seems to be seriously leading to the real thing, and Youssif and Hadeel get there rather quickly: declarations of undying love lead to a proposal of marriage by Youssif, and Hadeel accepts. Then true to form for a soap opera, there is a knock at the door, and Hadeel’s beau, the hapless Ahmed (Monty Cole, who also directs) arrives, determined to propose to Hadeel himself.

Ahmed does, and Hadeel accepts. And so it goes, with complications rising as Youssif’s girlfriend Bana (Cassidy Slaughter-Mason) arrives, angry because she senses Youssif has been untrue. This meta-soap opera grinds on comically, until the action ends, and the actors take a bow. The playwright has drawn us close with this show.

And with us in his clutches, Calderon resumes the play with a faked post show discussion by the cast, and we are lead to another plane of performance that is mind-bending, to say the least. I won’t spoil the last 20 percent of the show, but to see where the mind of Guillermo Calderon takes us under the direction of Monty Cole – it’s well, well worth seeing. Likewise the performances by Ardebili and Ishak are excellent. 

Kiss is also a social commentary. The characters names and the Arabic script on the televised soap opera playing on the set let us know it is set in the Middle East. Information in the lobby reveals it is Syria, where soap operas are celebrated form of cultural expression. They are censored, in that criticism of the government isn’t permitted.

But Syrian actors and scriptwriters insert social commentary subversively. In the lobby you can also learn a bit of famous Syrian actress Mai Skaf, who died in exile two years ago, following harassment for political dissidence. If there is a Jeff Award for dramaturgy, the researchers who brings such scripts as Kiss (and also Pomona) to Chicago are certainly deserving of it. Kiss runs through August 18 at Den Theatre.

Pomona at Steep Theatre is among the most exhilarating productions I have seen this year. Directed by Robin Witt, who selected this imaginative script by British playwright Alistair McDowall, the play follows a familiar theme in British crime dramas: the disappearance of working girls, spirited away in this case from house of prostitution.

But Pomona is much more than that. Set in the real-life Pomona, a once fashionable and now abandoned acreage encircled by England’s M50 freeway, and bordered by two canals in the city center of Manchester, it conjures up the terror associated with an unlit, unpopulated terrain that makes a dark hole in the brightly lit cityscape.

The action centers around the world of two night watchmen (abbove) – bearded, burly Moe (Nate Faustman) and his young sidekick Charlie (Brandon Rivera) – who are charged with guarding Pomona from unauthorized visitors. At rare intervals, unmarked vans are admitted, driving into the flat terrain before disappearing into a warren of subterranean passages and vaults. Neither Moe nor Charlie know who is in the vans, or what happens below ground in what are supposedly former World War II shelters. The truth we learn later is even more nefarious than Moe, Charlie or the audience might have guessed.

This dystopian tale is also in part a staged realization of the type of role playing found in Dungeons & Dragons. The game itself also appears as part of the action, as it happens to be Charlie’s major social outlet when he is not at work.

As the play opens, we meet a graying, world-weary Manchester real estate mogul, Zeppo (Peter Moore), sitting atop a packing crate next to Ollie (Amber Sollis), who is seeking his help to locate her sister, who she believes may have disappeared into the subterranean Pomona. Behind them sits a mysterious individual wearing an extraterrestrial mask. Periodically Zeppo directs Ollie to hand the creature a nugget.

The three rotate continuously before the audience in a sustained introductory dialog in what is an intriguing bit of stageplay. This also serves as a praecis to the drama to come, and sets the essential theme of the play: absolving oneself of moral culpability by remaining ignorant. Reluctant to get involved, Zeppo finally agrees to help Ollie, but offers her a warning, philosophizing that he believes in “selective education,” meaning there are some things it is better not to know about.

These days, “You can’t be a good person; there is no such thing,” Zeppo postulates. “There are only those who know the pain they are causing; and those who don’t.” Ignorance is, if not bliss, at least a form of absolution.

The cinematic style of the script and staging cuts rapidly to four successive scenes, introducing more characters, all of whom are desperate. (It reminded me of the movie, “Crash.”) Fay (Ashlyn Lozano) a woman on the run pleading with her babysitter to stay with her child; cold-blooded Keaton (Phoebe Moore), ordering her investment advisor to withdraw all her money and burn it; Moe and Charlie injuring themselves to stage an alibi.

As the story unfolds, these scenes (which jump around in time) all become clear. The provocative scenes also draw us into the action, and McDowall doesn’t let us go. The show flies by for 100 minutes (no intermission).

The entire cast is uniformly excellent, though I grew to love the range delivered by Brandon Rivera, whose Charlie runs the gamut of dramatic personae: the role-playing Dungeon Master, the nerdy young man hoping to find a girlfriend, the naïve protégé of Moe, and a sobered individual who refuses to go on. Nate Faust brought a layered sensitivity to his role as Moe, with moving scenes in which he displays vulnerability with Fay, and an unlikely nurturance for Charlie.

Kudos to dialect coach Adam Goldstein on the Manchester accents – completely convincing (and I have been there a few times) – but the cast exercised careful discipline in consistency here. Likewise applause for Joe Schermoly (Scenic Design), Brandon Wardell (Lighting) and Jenny Pinson (Props) for an integrated and effective whole. Costumes by Aly Amidei are also noteworthy. Pomona has been selling out, so let's hope the run is extended. Pomona runs through September 14 at Steep Theatre, 1115 W. Berwyn in Chicago.

After seeing Strange Heart Beating, I felt the less said about this show, which is a murder mystery at its heart- the better. Its characters struck me as unrealistic, the dialog veers to wooden at many points, and the story is outlandish and complex.

Yet in describing its storyline to others, I found they were interested in it. Directed by Addie Gorlin, Strange Heart Beating follows a murder investigation, the mysterious disappearance of a young girl drowned in a lake – and the unfortunate fate of a young man, Ramon (Brandon Rodriguez), implicated in that murder. He is a factory worker at a nearby turkey processing plant, but claims as an alibi that he was only nearby to study the wildlife around the lake. The mother of the young girl, Lena (Leah Raidt) is properly distraught, even deranged at the inconsolable loss of her daughter.

In the course of the drama Lena moves from victim’s mother, to suspect, to witness – and eventually (and here playwright Kristin Idaszak may be drawing on magical realism) she gets trained and certified to become the executioner of the now convicted killer. The town sheriff, Teeny (Jyreika Guest), was best friends with Lena growing up. Now Teeny must investigate this murder, which divides their relationship with a wall of professionalism.

As the drama progresses and the case moves to court, Teeny adopts roles of both the prosecutor and court administrator – which bothered me on the level of likelihood and realism. There are two or three more wrinkles thrown into Strange Heart Beating: the lake is suffering biological degradation (herons become erratic); the turkey plant’s experiments in bioengineering yield creatures with extra legs and four breasts; and there are other young girls who have gone missing, some possibly undocumented immigrants and children of color.

All that and the kitchen sink as problems (the content advisory reads "Strange Heart Beating contains discussions about sexual violence against women, suicide, racism, xenophobia, and capital punishment") diffuses the focus. The cast does their best to work with what they've got. The one who gets a reprieve here is Stephanie Shum, who plays the spirit of the Lake with her signature gusto - and the lines are poetic and quite apt for a Lake. 

In an interview accompanying the program, Idaszak says the story is based loosely on the Jacob Wetterling case, which lay cold for 27 years in a Minnesota village. She wanted to look at why a town would remain silent with a killer in their midst for almost three decades. It would have been a better story if that had been the case. 

Idaszak says she was following in the steps of Raymond Chandler and other noir writers to generate the story, but seeking a less misogynist resolution. All this is compelling on paper, but not so much on stage. Too many axes to grind in this show, and so the dramatics lose their edge. Strange Heart Beating runs through July 28 at the Frontier space, 1106 W. Thorndale in Chicago. 

Let me apologize for gushing (and being late with this review), but Brian Parry’s performance as King Lear at Redtwist Theater is nothing short of astounding. One of the finest Shakespeare performances I have ever seen, Parry brings goosebumps and rushes from his first few lines. He acts the role deeply and well. He is King Lear.

But Parry is also a consummate thespian, there is no other way to describe it – a master of delivery of the Elizabethan English, with cadence and emphasis so deft that the language is clear as a bell. While English is filled with ancient words whose meaning changes over centuries, the new meanings are accretions on top of the old ones. When uttered with skill, we hear with both our modern minds and our primitive souls. With Parry we hear it all.

My intuition tells me every actor on that stage knows what Parry is up to. I have to imagine they were all drawn to this demanding work because of their passion for it, and perhaps because they would have a chance to be immersed in such a wonderful enterprise with Parry as Lear. 

The story of King Lear is a mythical tragedy, a storyline set up by Shakespeare to allow for drama. The aging king decides to divide his kingdom among his three daughters. Determining which portion to give to each, he asks them how much they love him.

The oldest, Goneril (Jacqueline Grant) and middle daughter, Regan (KC Karen Hill) both married, are effusive in their expressions, and they warm the cockles of Lear’s soul. Hill and Grant open what will be noteworthy performances, on par with Parry.

But his youngest daughter, Cordelia, is less effusive, and more rational – pointing out to Lear she must love him more since she has no husband splitting her away from him. Angry, Lear disinherits and banishes Cordelia and the Earl of Kent (Cameron Feagin) who has defended her. Cordelia’s suitor abandons her after this loss of wealth – though the King of France steps in to marry and rescue her.

Enter tragedy, as we learn the people who really love Lear have been cast off, and the two oldest daughters and their husbands begin to diminish Lear’s standing – refusing his 150 person retinue, and tossing him between castles like an unwanted in-law.

The whole company is so remarkably good there is not a performance that falters – an electricity of excellence coursing through the stage. Particularly impressive were Kayla Raelle Holder as Lear’s youngest daughter Cordelia and Mark West as Edmund, illegitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester. Cordelia challenges Lear, and Holder has the chops to do it. Edmund is conniving and duplicitous, a bastard figuratively and literally – and West’s eyes glisten with his evil cunning.

Complicated roles and performances were those of King Lear’s Fool (Liz Cunningham) and the Earl of Gloucester’s legitimate son, Edgar (Robert Hunter Bry). Both play their character, as well as an alternate characters. Cunningham’s Fool took awhile to grow on me, for Shakespeare makes fools speak in puzzling ways – but I caught on.

And Bry’s Edgar is unprepossessing at first, outshown by his half evil half brother Edmund. When he adopts alternate characters - one a rustic bumpkin who guides his blinded father to safety - Bry shines. It occurred to me after this show that I had never really seen King Lear live before – though I have seen scenes from it. The role calls to actors – Glenda Jackson notably took it on in New York recently – and this production at Redtwist Theatre gives us a glimpse of the best that actors can be when inspired. Don’t miss it (it runs through August 2 at Red Twist Theatre at 1104 W Bryn Mawr. 

The Recommendation, which opened July 11 at Windy City Playhouse, tells a compelling story of two lifelong buddies who clash violently when their adult lives and values go in different directions than during their student days. Yet they remain friends. The play, which premiered in New York in 2013, is by Jonathan Caren who adapted it with Windy City artistic director Amy Rubenstein for this “immersive” production, examines the advantages conferred on individuals by the circumstances of their birth.

“Circumstances of birth might give some people an advantage over others, and it's not something we talk about on a daily basis,” says Caren. “But it does affect the stories that get told; and it affects the people that do get certain opportunities. This play focuses a lot on intersection people from different backgrounds.”

A series of scenes contrasts the privileged life of Aaron Feldman (Julian Hester) with that of Iskinder Iodouku (Michael Aaron Pogue), who met as freshman at Brown University. Aaron is a familiar type who skates through life on good looks, natural bonhomie, and easily forming and tapping his network of connections – including those of his Dad, a lawyer in Los Angeles. The story is told from the point of view of Iskinder, a pre-law student whose father is from Ethiopia, and whose mother is American. He narrates scenes, and speaks directly to the audience at times – when not playing against the other characters.

Iskinder is a realist, and sees through Aaron, but loves him anyway – and it seems likely he has tapped Aaron’s Dad’s connections to assure his entry into UCLA law school. After college, Aaron enters the Hollywood movie business, a tough grind where connections get introductions, but talent is needed to succeed. He is at the bottom, acting as an assistant to a movie producer – which means house sitting, getting coffee, and being a go-fer. Iskinder pursues his legal education and career, deciding against becoming a court-appointed attorney for a more lucrative post with stature at a high powered law firm.

The plot thickens dramatically when Iskinder takes on a pro-bono case to get early release for a young African-American man, Dwight Barnes (Brian Keys), whose sentencing was excessive. It turns out that Aaron met Dwight when he was briefly jailed for driving on an expired license. Dwight protected him from other inmates, but Aaron also confided something to him: that he may heave hit someone with a car as a teenager, and he left the scene of the accident. He was never caught.

Isikinder Iodouku (Michael Aaron Pogue) leads the audience into the next scene, in the dorm room at Brown University. 

The conflict for the college buddies comes as Iskinder works to win Dwight’s release – against Aaron’s protests, who wants him to remain jailed – to keep him quiet. But Aaron has never revealed his motive to Iskinder, who goes further, and helps Dwight secure a job. Along the way, Iskinder’s law firm lets him go, specifically claiming his pro bono work was based on his personal relationship to Dwight – a violation of the law firm’s policy. But we also suspect that Aaron may have used his connections to make this happen.

The Recommendation as presented at Windy City Playhouse also makes a compelling case for experiential theatre. The format eschews the traditional actors-on a stage performance. Instead the audience walks through a series of sets. In The Recommendation, we began with a scene in the lobby, from which a double door opens onto the dorm room of Aaron.

Next we are lead into the dorm room itself. And from there, we visit several other scenes from the story, and at various points the audience is offered drinks (alcohol optional); saki at a sushi restaurant; Jello shots in the dorm room; a cocktail at the lobby scene; and finally water in a health club sauna scene. We also visit a pool at a Hollywood home and a jail cell.

During these multi-dimensional experiences, the three actors are up close and we see precisely how exceptionally good their performances are. We also experience the delivery of exposition in a physical way – and much more naturally than when only spoken - including a flashback scene to Aaron growing up and talking to friends on the phone as his parents (unseen) leave the house.

This recap of the story is more explicit than the play itself; I have connected a few dots to give it a reasonable sequence. But if you pay attention you will see, hear and experience all of this – a cross between a play and a live podcast, perhaps. In one particularly powerful scene, Iskinder is counseling Dwight as he prepares to seek his release. The strength of that scene is along the lines of the best of To Kill a Mockingbird.

The other aspect of experiential plays is the business model – which makes it an attractive theatrical experience even for those who may not love ne theater fans. Only about three dozen seats are available for the show, since the audience must sit within the various scenes – all built into rooms within the theater building. With cocktails (non-alcoholic drinks are offered, as well as drink free tickets) run from Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 p.m., Fridays at 8 p.m., Saturdays at 4 p.m. and 8 p.m.and Sundays at 2 p.m.and 6 p.m.Tickets ($80-$100) are now on sale through October 6th. The Recommendation at Windy City Playhouse is highly recommended.

*Extended through October 20th!

The Music Man is beautifully produced at Goodman Theater. It generated so much pre-show buzz that the run was extended twice before the curtain came down on opening night. No wonder.
With great choreography (Denis Jones), wonderfully detailed period costumes (Ana Kuzmanic), and an orchestra directed by Jermaine Hill, it hits the right notes for a convincing rendition of a beloved Broadway musical that has enshrined itself in America’s cultural pantheon. From scanning ticket holders going in, and judging by the exuberant reception from the audience opening night, the show holds a powerful attraction for audiences of all ages.

The 1962 movie version with Robert Preston and Shirley Jones in the lead roles is probably the Music Man one most people recall. Not producing a simulacrum of it risks disappointment, that is the case overall in the Goodman Theatre version.

Director Mary Zimmerman fully satisfies our nostalgic hunger, honoring the work by Meredith Wilson (book, lyrics and music), which is itself is a bit of 1950’s nostalgia about the simpler times in 1912 River City, Iowa. This was a period when science and industry were in the ascendance in America, while popular culture was shaking loose from the its reverence for 19th century classicism.

In this version, Zimmerman - one of our city’s most precious creative forces - takes a fresh turn on the work, with reverence for the storyline, but setting a tone from the start with the brilliantly offbeat sets by Dan Ostling (Metamorphoses, and 30+ other Lookingglass Theatre works), the hallmark of many Zimmerman efforts.

As the audience arrives it is greeted by full curtain print of an antique Iowa map. This rises to reveal a full stage-sized beaded board, with a cutaway revealing the interior of Pullman passenger car on the Rock Island Line that originated in Chicago, and bound for River City. It is filled with traveling salesmen arguing about the merits of knowing the territory, whether to sell on a cash basis, or extend credit, and talk of a charlatan who fleeces customers and gives all salesmen a bad name.

In this blockbuster opening scene, the lines and songs and dance are delivered in syncopated cadence matching the rhythm, speed, and clickety clack of the train, and it far outdoes the movie version. And the audience embraced it to joyful cheers.

Likewise for the next scene introducing people of River City, Iowa, not given over to effusive expression – setting us up for the rest of the show. The response to this first appearance of the full company on Main Street in River City was thunderous applause and cheers. It is safe to say that Music Man were it on Rotten Tomatoes would get 97 from viewers, though more mixed assessments from the reviewers.

There are some things lost. Zimmerman weaves together a wonderful presentation of Music Man, but the individual actors and the music seem subordinated to the production – little chance for stars to shine, or for us to bask in the music. For a musical about musical bands, this one has too sparse an orchestra, with just 11 pieces.

Also the pace of song performances, with though there were wonderful voices, the numbers seemed rushed, with no time for listeners to bask in sublime melodies like “Til There Was You” or “Lida Rose.”

Slightly underdone was the role of Ronnie, the boy with the speech impediment (we would call him “special needs” today). He’s the one that sing’s “Gary Indiana.” I may be mistaken, but the performance of scenes from Grecian urns by the women’s culture group seemed too abstracted to evoke the antiquities they were referencing. 

But those are minor matters. The Music Man at Goodman Theatre is an absolutely wonderful production. Fom the reception by the audience opening night, you should hurry to get tickets. (It runs through

The Music Man is beautifully produced at Goodman Theater. It generated so much pre-show buzz that the run was extended twice before the curtain came down on opening night. No wonder.
With great choreography (Denis Jones), wonderfully detailed period costumes (Ana Kuzmanic), and an orchestra directed by Jermaine Hill, it hits the right notes for a convincing rendition of a beloved Broadway musical that has enshrined itself in America’s cultural pantheon. From scanning ticket holders going in, and judging by the exuberant reception from the audience opening night, the show holds a powerful attraction for audiences of all ages.

The 1962 movie version with Robert Preston and Shirley Jones in the lead roles is probably The Music Man most people recall. Not producing a simulacrum of it risks disappointment, but that is not the case overall in the Goodman Theatre version.

Director Mary Zimmerman fully satisfies our nostalgic hunger, honoring the work by Meredith Wilson (book, lyrics and music), which itself is a bit of 1950’s nostalgia about the simpler times in 1912 River City, Iowa. This was a period when science and industry were in the ascendance in America, while popular culture was shaking loose from its reverence for 19th century classicism.

In this version, Zimmerman - one of our city’s most precious creative forces - takes a fresh turn on the work, with reverence for the storyline, but setting a unique tone from the start with the brilliantly offbeat sets by Dan Ostling (Metamorphoses, and 30+ other Lookingglass Theatre works), the hallmark of many Zimmerman efforts.

As the audience arrives it is9 greeted by full curtain print of an antique Iowa map. This rises to reveal a beaded board panel filling the entire stage opening - like a second curtain - with a cutaway revealing the interior of a Pullman passenger car on the Rock Island Line that originated in Chicago, and bound for River City. It is filled with traveling salesmen arguing about the merits of knowing the territory, whether to sell on a cash basis or extend credit, and talk of a charlatan who fleeces customers and gives all salesmen a bad name.

In this blockbuster opening scene, the lines and songs and dance are delivered in syncopated cadence matching the rhythm, speed, and clickety clack of the train, and it far outdoes the movie version. And the audience embraced it to joyful cheers.

Likewise for the next scene introducing people of River City, Iowa, not given over to effusive expression – setting us up for the rest of the show. The response to this first appearance of the full company on Main Street in River City was thunderous applause and cheers. It is safe to say that Music Man were it on Rotten Tomatoes would get 97 from viewers, though more mixed assessments from the reviewers.

There are some things lost. Zimmerman weaves together a wonderful presentation of The Music Man, but the individual actors and the music seem subordinated to the production – little chance for stars to shine, or for us to bask in the music. For a musical about musical bands, this one has too sparse an orchestra, with just 11 pieces.

Also the pace of song performances, though there were wonderful voices, the numbers seemed rushed, with no time for listeners to bask in sublime melodies like "Good Night my Someone" “Till There Was You” or “Lida Rose.” Both leads are great singers: Monica West plays Marian Paroo, and Geoff Packard plays Harold Hill.

Slightly underdone was the role of Ronnie, the boy with the speech impediment (played by Ron Howard in the film, we would call him “special needs” today). He’s the one that sing’s “Gary Indiana.” I may be mistaken, but the performance of scenes from Grecian urns by the women’s culture group seemed to be made too contemporarily abstract to properly evoke the antiquities they were referencing, and the dying cries of classicism. 

But those are minor matters. The Music Man at Goodman Theatre is an absolutely wonderful production. Fom the reception by the audience opening night, you should hurry to get tickets. (It runs through August 18.)