Displaying items by tag: Lookingglass Theatre

Described as a play-pageant-ritual-celebration, WHAT TO SEND UP WHEN IT GOES DOWN is both scripted and improvised, participatory and performed – for the purpose of empowering Black People’s response to WHAT GOES DOWN: past, present, and future violence against Black People.

“IT? You know what IT is. IT is that terrible thing that happened, and that is going to keep happening.  IT always happened just yesterday and IT just keeps happening again tomorrow”

This review is really hard to write, mainly because I don’t feel qualified to judge the work. WHAT TO SEND UP WHEN IT GOES DOWN is a participatory event, its purpose to generate a place for catharsis, cleansing, and healing … for Black People. The audience is informed, gently but unapologetically, that WHAT TO SEND UP WHEN IT GOES DOWN is by Black People, about Black People, and for Black People – although all who approach with respect are welcome.

And amazingly that’s absolutely true!  There were lines / jokes / vignettes that I couldn’t appreciate, that I simply didn’t get, but at no point did I feel excluded. The moments of disconnection were my problem:  I, as a white person, couldn’t understand the significance of those lines / jokes / vignettes. The moments of exclusion were deficits in my comprehension; they were in no way generated by the Black People.

BTW, I capitalize Black People because those two words are spoken – shouted, proclaimed, cried, announced, groaned, exclaimed – frequently throughout, and the spoken words are always unmistakably capitalized.

WHAT TO SEND UP WHEN IT GOES DOWN is written by Aleshea Harris, produced by Congo Square Theatre in partnership with LookingGlass Theatre, and directed by Daniel Bryant (Congo Square) and Erika Ratcliff (LookingGlass).

The ensemble includes Jos N. Banks, Chanell Bell, McKenzie Chinn, Alexandria Moorman, Willie “Prince Roc” Round, Joey Stone, and Penelope Walker. Each and every one of this cast are extraordinarily talented at acting, singing, and dancing. Though many of the vignettes are scripted, every word is unmistakably authentic. I can’t begin to imagine how emotionally exhausting each performance must be. I feel honored by their willingness to share it with us.

On the Creative Team are Sarah Grace Goldman (Dramaturg), Sydney Lynne Thomas (Set & Props Designer), Alexis Chaney (Costume/Wig/Makeup Designer), Levi Wilkins (Lighting Designer), and Charlique C. Rolle (Movement Coordinator). Victor Hugo Jaimes is Stage Manager, Estrellita Beatriz Production Manager, and Alexis Carrie designed the costumes. 

Together, this team – production and cast – create an awesome and enduring experience.  Six days later, I’m still having regular moments of recollection and new insight; I predict these perceptions and inspirations will continue for some time.

WHAT TO SEND UP WHEN IT GOES DOWN is Highly Recommended for all audiences; for people who identify as BIPOC, it’s downright ESSENTIAL.

Let’s begin with a children’s story. A children’s story about children’s stories, really.

Long, long ago, there lived a boy who could not decide what he would be when he grew up. He might have grown up to sing songs or tally bills, to right wrongs or treat ills, but he just could not decide. Then one day, the boy met a wonderful enchantress — a creator and a raconteur who herself had vowed never to grow up, and who lived her life telling stories for children. She told the boy that he, too, needn’t ever grow up, for he had been placed in this world for the same purpose as her — to tell tales that enchant children, young and old. And so, the boy did just that for many years until one day, as boys sometimes do, he grew up and went on to smaller, lesser things. And while that ageless enchantress still tells stories to children while the tired, graying boy does not, somewhere deep inside him lurks a longing for that storybook world he left behind, a longing let out now and again when he reads or hears or sees a story told truly and lovingly, told for and to those who have yet to grow up.

I begin with that story because Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Steadfast Tin Soldier” was always the gold standard when that boy considered what a true and lovely children’s story is. Lookingglass Theatre’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier, written and directed by Mary Zimmerman, is the rare adaptation of a true classic that’s not only worthy and respectful of its source material, but takes it to new and wondrous places.

Show, don’t tell. That’s perhaps the first rule of good storytelling, and Zimmerman’s production adheres to that maxim. From the curious pre-show goings-on that evoke an advent countdown to both Christmastime and the curtain’s rise, to the inspired puppets and streamers and set pieces that create worlds within worlds on the Lookingglass stage, to the powdered wigs (“That’s Mozart!” my six-year-old cried when she spotted music director and arranger Leandro Lopez Varady take his seat at the piano) and classical instruments that arm the four-piece orchestra tasked with playing Andre Pluess and Amanda Dehnert’s exceptional score, a time and a place and a mood have been created before the story even begins.

Show, don’t tell. For the length of the play, not a word is spoken. I imagine that Ms. Zimmerman drew inspiration from silent movies, as her cast tells the story with what they show the audience — with their actions, with their bodies, with their faces, with their eyes.

John Gregorio and Joe Dempsey are the play’s active, madcap jacks of all trades, filling pointed elven shoes as puppeteers, scene-makers and set-movers, and various roles throughout. Dempsey’s Nursemaid is positively Pythonian in her prissy, proper pomp and posture. And Gregorio’s Rat, one of many parts he plays, adds a sense of gnawing doom and gloom.

As the ballerina, tucked away inside a doll’s house into which the audience is soon invited, Kasey Foster enchants both said audience and the titular tin soldier with her grace and her beauty. But she’s equally charming later on as a rambunctious rapscallion wreaking havoc in the Danish streets.

Anthony Irons’ costumes and props — as a wine-buzzed master of the house, as a masked fairyland creature of questionable species, and as a jack-in-the-box goblin who sets the story’s plot in motion — often capture the eye, but it’s his facial gestures I noticed most. From grins to glares to grimaces, Irons harkens character actors like Don Knotts with his oversized expressions that translate from the stage every bit as clearly as his castmates’ bodily movements.

But it’s Alex Stein’s Steadfast Tin Soldier who’s, quite literally by the end of it, the play’s heart. While the others frolic about, Stein’s one-legged plaything is destined to remain static, so it’s his eyes that show us all we need to know. Above, I wondered if Mary Zimmerman was inspired by the silent movies of yesteryear, and I think it’s Stein’s Buster Keaton-esque ability to tell it all with just one look that got me thinking that way, every bit as much as the entire wordless production did. When Stein’s eyes gleamed, brimming with tears, so did mine.

Perhaps he’s as old fashioned as those silent films of yore, but that boy who’s all grown up now is not a crier. Then this holiday play for kids of any age went and brought him to tears, the same as Hans Christian Andersen’s original children’s story always did. And maybe, just maybe, this children’s story told truly and lovingly will also remind that boy that he hasn’t yet grown up all the way and that there are still children’s stories of his own to tell — stories that delight and inspire, that entertain and touch — just like Lookingglass Theatre’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier is doing from now through January 26.

Really? Another ‘Frankenstein’? The 2018/19 season was the year of ‘Frankenstein’. To celebrate the 200th anniversary of Mary Shelley’s classic gothic thriller, four theatre companies produced wildly different adaptations of the novel. If you find yourself wondering whether these companies knew of each other’s productions, they surely did. The beauty of the Chicago theatre landscape is that there’s a lot of room for good storytelling. Lookingglass Theatre wraps up their season with a bold adaptation from the same team who brought us ‘Moby Dick’ and ‘Lookingglass Alice’.

Conceived and directed by David Catlin, this take on ‘Frankenstein’ is as visually stunning as it is insightful. The in-the-round staging makes this telling feel more active, as the entire performance space is used throughout. Shifting around in your seat feels like a more engaging way to view the show. Not knowing where the monster or the next loud sound will come from, heightens the sense of terror. Catlin’s production is scary. Many of the other productions discounted that this is a horror story originally intended by Mary Shelley to scare guests at a party.

While nearly all the productions tried to weave Mary Shelley’s personal life into the retelling, Catlin’s version cuts right to the heart. In fluid transitions between Shelley’s life and ‘Frankenstein’, we get to see the range of Cordelia Dewdney’s talents as an actress. The show may be titled after the scientist, but this is a play about Mary Shelley. Dewdney’s dialogue as Mary Shelley is heartbreaking when considering her real life. Cruz Gonzalez-Cadel also turns in a strong performance in a variety of characters, all of which she plays comically large with a faux pregnancy belly.

The balance of good casting, inventive storytelling and arresting staging distinguish this production. Catlin has chosen to frame his version almost as children playing dress up while exchanging ghost stories. And since the characters are adults, there’s a simmering sexiness to this production. Sexy and ‘Frankenstein’ are two words rarely seen in the same sentence, but somehow Lookingglass achieves just that, making this a delicious evening at the theatre. Thrills, chills and titillation, the pillars of entertainment.

Even though we are now 201 years out from the original publication of ‘Frankenstein’, don’t sleep on this striking production at Lookingglass. For those with a grey memory of the novel from high school, or only familiar with the Universal-Boris-Karloff film version, Lookingglass serves up an unforgettable night of scary fun.

*Extended through September 1st

Lookingglass Theatre, known for its excellent production values and its incomparable space at the Water Tower pumping station, brings us an intriguing new work, Act(s) of God. 

Billed as an existential dark comedy, but really much more of a farce, it is a “guess who’s coming to dinner” tale of cosmic proportions. Written by troupe member and actor Kareem Bandealy and directed by Heidi Stillman, the show spares nothing in quality of effort and has an intriguing storyline, but runs off the rails by the third act. 

It opens on a middle-class family home where Father (Rom Barkhordar) and Mother (Shannon Cochran in an outstanding performance) await the homecoming of their boy Middle (Anthony Irons) and his girl Fiancée (Emjoy Gavino). Their two other children will also be arriving soon, a daughter Eldest (Kristina Valada-Viars) and another son, Youngest (Walter Briggs).

Sorting the mail, Mother listens to a radio report on the imminent passage near earth of the asteroid, Apophis, while she and Father reveal in passing that it is April 2029 – a date that gains in significance. Other rather witty exposition tells us how much (and how little) the world has advanced from the present. “Everyone’s driving solar cars, but why do we still have junk mail?” Mother asks.

In the mail pile Mother finds an unusual letter, but she can’t tear the envelope, nor can Father, nor the other children as they each arrive. No one can, that is, until Eldest arrives, disturbing the others who are deep in a stylized, futuristic New Age prayer ritual. (In a  droll touch, Bandealy has them ask God not for forgiveness, but to “Help us forgive ourselves.”) As it turns out Eldest is not only an atheist but also a lesbian, things which estrange her from the family. And perhaps to the detriment of this script, Eldest is a writer. But she is able to open the letter, revealing that it contains a message from God: he’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.

The plot thickens promisingly, and great deal of angst and stress accompanies preparations for their guests’ arrival, with Mother begging the rest, “Please don’t embarrass me in front of God.”

But the play takes a turn for the worse, as family tensions and dynamics fill the remainder of a way too-long show (three acts, two intermissions). These scenes are full of drama, but they do not a play make.  And while Bandealy’s characters are clearly defined personalities, jousting continuously, they seem only vaguely related to each other. Was it a matter of casting or direction?

Perhaps it’s the script – which is not fully jelled. Much of the dialog is actors reciting lengthy written texts, well stated, but mostly unconvincing as spoken language. This is slightly less of an issue with Mother, Youngest, and Fiancee, but is especially a problem with Eldest, who talks over the other characters in sometimes interminable diatribes and expository essays. Such character types have been known to represent the author.

There are also unconvincing dramatic moments, as when Father falls asleep sitting up in a chair for almost an entire Act, while a wild family wrestling and shouting match surrounds him. Or the siblings and Mother sitting unnaturally rigid and immobile throughout a scene as Father comes and goes from the kitchen, talking a mile a minute. 

Bandealy does give each character a moment of glory, with a signal monologue: in the son Middle’s take-down of his sister, Anthony Irons is moving and convincing. In Father’s recitation of an invented religious parable, Rom Barkhordar is flawless. Likewise, Shannon Cochran, who in what might be a ranting soliloquy decrying the raw deal given her by motherhood, instead sings her lines to the accompaniment of a baroque sinfonietta. It’s surpassingly than charming.

Oh yes, and God comes and goes, unseen by us. But we do hear him like a “passing wind” (a nice inside joke for religious folks, he is flatulent on a cosmic scale as well, it turns out). The date of God’s arrival, April 14, 2029, is repeated so frequently in the dialog I looked it up in Wikipedia. It is the day a large asteroid will come within 19,000 miles of the Earth – which clarifies the radio report in the opening minutes of Act(s) of God. 

The set by Brian Sidney Bembridge – the living and dining room of a middle-class family home – is wonderfully appointed, and conveys that indeterminate futuristic point in time with a mix of furnishings dating from 1920 deco and ersatz 1950s French provincial, to mid-century modern and contemporary retro, along with futuristic sconces and wall paper. 

The set matters, as it must also provide a climactic end to the play. But it was not a particularly satisfying one. The coincidence of a visit from God and an asteroid flyby gives a reasonable platform for an existential dark comedy, but hours of family squabbling didn't seem very existential or funny. There’s some good in Act(s) of God, and some great bits, so it's somewhat recommended if you have the patience for it. It will be at Lookingglass Theatre through April 7, 2019.

Jules Verne wrote one of the first science fiction novels in 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas, the story of three travelers who find themselves imprisoned on the Nautilus, a submarine captained by the megalomaniacal Captain Nemo. The novel was light on political detail, though Captain Nemo occasionally claimed to use his supremacy in the seas to right wrongs committed on land, especially those perpetrated by colonial powers. Nemo’s reasons were more fully articulated in Verne’s follow-up, The Mysterious Island, elements of which become the framing device for this Lookingglass Production, adapted by David Kersnar, who also directs, and Althos Low (aka Steve Pickering). Ensemble member Kersnar shows a deft hand and strong familiarity with the resources he can muster to bring the undersea world of the novels spectacularly to life, though the attempt to explain Nemo’s vengeful politics weighs the production down.

At its heart, 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas is an entertaining yarn, filled with hair-raising encounters with monsters, encounters made more terrifying by the fact that they take place in the unforgiving confines of the world’s oceans, with their more ordinary terrors. Kersnar and Low have done a remarkable job of bringing this world to the stage, staying true to Verne’s vision while making updates that make the story more accessible to contemporary audiences. One of these is changing the gender of the marine biologist who recounts Nemo’s travels and scientific discoveries. Pierre Aronnax and his aide-de-camp, Conseil, are recast as Morgan Aronnax and Brigette Conseil. This proves to be a strong choice in terms of storytelling, as it makes a little sense of Aronnax’s initial sympathy for Nemo, as both have felt the sting of being underestimated by those in power. The creators have assembled a team of artists and designers who are up to the task of bringing the tour of the seas to the stage. Todd Rosenthal’s set contains a toy-theater proscenium for the wide-angle shots of the ocean, from the sinking of ships to the horrors of the drowning sailors to the view from the windows of the Nautilus. The Nautilus itself is realized as an exterior platform that rises and tilts precipitously as the story demands, and hints at the confinement of the underwater craft that can be accessed only through a small hatch. Costume designer Sully Ratke combines story-telling and function, creating designs that capture the altered states of the characters as their journeys unwind, as well as their backgrounds and social stations. Props by Amanda Hermann avoid getting too steampunk, but capture the Victorian aesthetic of the novel, reminiscent of the original illustrations. However, it is the more ephemeral design elements that really transport the audience to the depths: sound designer Ric Sims and lighting designer Christine Binder immerse the audience in locations from New York City, the decks of various water crafts, to the depths of the seven seas. Floating in this aural and visual landscape are the puppets designed by Blair Thomas, Tom Lee, and Chris Wooten and athletic actors performing Sylvia Hernandez Di-Stasi’s brilliant aerial choreography, which allows the characters to float and dive beneath the waves. The puppets themselves are worth the price of admission: lifelike and magical at once, they float behind and off the stage to invite audience and characters fully into the terrors and wonders of the oceans.

The play begins with a group of refugees from the American Civil War meeting the man who enabled them to survive their escape, Captain Nemo, now older, alone and questioning his prior life as a terror of the seas. It then flashes back to where the book begins, introducing French professor of natural history Morgan Aronnax, who receives a last-minute invitation to join the crew of the USS Bainbridge, under Captain Farragut, who is commissioned to seek and destroy whatever is terrorizing the seas—be it craft or creature. Aronnax postulates a giant narwhal in a scene that brilliantly establishes her character and her position vis-à-vis her male colleagues. Kasey Foster does an admirable job of injecting charm into the generally no-nonsense and humorless professor, who is almost as single-minded in her pursuit of knowledge as Nemo in his pursuit of vengeance and domination. Kareem Bandealy is hampered by a script that does not allow him to fully realize the zealous evil of Nemo—despite his powerful presence and overbearing bluster, he gets bogged down in the scenes that switch to introspection and long-winded revelation. Scenes that allow him to do this while perpetrating acts of terror (the sinking of a naval vessel, for example) serve the plot much better than dinner time polemics and elegiac remembrances of his role in the Great Mutiny of 1847, which led to the losses that spurred his vengeance against imperialism. Rounding out the quartet that forms the center of the narrative are Walter Briggs as the cheeky Ned Land, a harpooner brought on board the Bainbridge to help destroy the monster responsible for the deaths of so many sailors, and Lanise Antoine Shelley as Conseil. Briggs brings the right balance of swagger and empathy to his role, and Shelley makes a good audience foil for the occasionally delusional professor, pointedly and humorously reminding her of the realities of their positions as women in a male world, and then as prisoners (not guests) of the mad Captain Nemo. Nemo’s “guests” also prove themselves to be up to the physical challenges of taking on human and cephalopod foes (Shelley has a brilliant and harrowing encounter with the latter). The rest of the cast—Thomas J. Cox, Joe Dempsey, Micah Figueroa, Edwin Lee Gibson and Glenn-Dale Obrero--provide some of the most striking moments of the evening and fill the stage with a multitude of supporting characters. Cox anchors the crew of Civil War wanderers and helps flesh out the alternate narrative. Joe Dempsey makes an impression as Pencroff, whose gratitude towards Nemo fuels his understanding and as the surprisingly open-minded and humorous Captain Farragut. Edwin Lee Gibson brings stalwart nobility to Cyrus Smith, one of the men who encounters Nemo in the first scene, and a roguish pragmatism to the self-serving constable who allows Ned Land to board the U.S.S. Bainbridge with a little persuasion from the Captain. Micah Figueroa and Glenn-Dale Obrero also fill the ranks of the Civil War escapees (with a humorous turn from Figueroa as the naïve Harbert), as well as handling the bulk of the fighting and diving, including an amazing sequence of pearl diving that captures the best of Lookingglass’s take on Verne’s novel—providing spectacle and social commentary in a seamless melding of physical theater, puppetry and characterization.

It’s not perfect, but 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas has enough to satisfy young (tweens and up) and old. Though it tries valiantly and not always successfully to engage with the political themes of human rights and colonization, ultimately it is buoyed by a strong sense of good old-fashioned story-telling. The breathtaking special effects, aerial dance, puppet magic, and a committed and capable cast who can match the acting and physical demands of the spectacle more than make up for some ponderous philosophical ballast. There is enough food for thought to inspire conversation, but the focus, as it should, remains mostly on the undersea journeys of the Nautilus and its willing and unwilling crew members’ battles with Kareem Bandealy’s power-hungry Nemo and the natural perils of the seas. It is well worth hopping on board to witness the sea battles, sea spiders, fish, squid and other undersea wonders dreamed up by Lookingglass’s team, under the assured direction of David Kersnar.

20,000 Leagues Under the Seas runs through August 19, 2018, at Lookingglass Theater, 821 N. Michigan. Performances are Wednesdays-Sundays at 7:30 pm, and Sundays at 2:00 pm. For tickets and more information, visit www.lookingglasstheatre.org or call 312-337-0665.

*Extended through August 26th

On a beautiful plantation in the modern day South, a mother asks her three daughters what they would change in the world, if they could. After rattling off some Miss America-esque answers – including "giving a croissant to a homeless person" – the girls go back to their own self-interests, i.e. taking recreational painkillers and prepping for a reality show audition.

Their world gets turned upside down when their mother announces that they will be hosting, and gifting the deed of the family plantation to, three black women, women who are descendants of a slave who worked on the plantation and had relations with the family's great-great-grandfather. Although with very different backgrounds, upbringings, and access to privilege due to skin color, these seven women are family.

Not to get all "Webster's Dictionary defines..." but I have to say it a little louder for the All Lives Matter folks in the back: A privilege is a special advantage or benefit available only to a particular person or group of people. A benefit, for instance, like a big, beautiful plot of land that your family forced slaves to maintain. Or, for instance, a thriving business that has clothed, fed, and housed generations of white descendants for centuries while providing nothing to the black descendants of the people without whom there wouldn't be a business. The slaves did the work, yet it's the family of the slaveowners who reap the benefits.

This 21st century answer to reparations is inspiring and brilliantly funny, with a fast-paced and clever script by Kevin Douglas and superb directing by David Schwimmer. Plantation! is both a conversation starter and high quality entertainment. Chaos and comedy ensue while the six girls try to make nice and get to know each other, all while griping beyond each others' backs about who really deserves the plantation. The play is a hilarious send-up of well-meaning white people; who sincerely want to help, yet do nothing when presented with the chance to do so; who swear up and down they aren't racist, yet date a member of the KKK because he doesn't go to "all" of the meetings.

In one scene, the girls are all Southern-Belle'd out in big, old-fashioned dresses for a fancy dinner on the estate. When the black girls turn on some music and start dancing, one of the white girls yells that it's like they have Beyonce in the house. Her sister admonishes her, "That's racist."

"No, it's not. That's a compliment," one of the black girls replies, high-fiving her sisters. The white sister who thought she was rightly calling out racism shakes her head, "You people are confusing." The black sisters share a glance. "That's racist," they say. Case in point, maybe listen to what people who experience racism have to say about it before defining racism for them. (Also, rule of thumb, don't make black people explain Black Lives Matter to you – which, naturally, plays out onstage here. Google is your friend.)

Finally, the cast of eight women knocked it out of the park with their chemistry and comedic timing. Besides the fabulous poofy dresses, it seemed to me that this play could've been cast with either men or women and the story would be the same. Props to Lookingglass and Douglas for not setting the default to "male." And for not being afraid to have a mixed race cast discuss race and make everyone in the audience, to use the playwright's own word, a little "funcomfortable".

Plantation is playing at Lookingglass Theatre Company through April 22nd. Tickets on LookingglassTheatre.org.

Lookingglass Theatre Company opens its 30th Anniversary Season with the return of the award-winning “Hard Times”, adapted from Charles Dickens and directed by Artistic Director and Ensemble Member Heidi Stillman , in association with The Actors Gymnasuim. It was first produced at Lookingglass in 2001, and some of the artists involved this season were part of the original production.

The story takes place in post-Industrial Revolution England. In a gloomy fictional small town dominated by mills and factories, art has very little presence. When a travelling circus comes to town, the circus clown manages to get his daughter Sissy (played Audrey Anderson; this is both her Lookingglass and professional debut) admitted to the best school in town. The school headmaster, Mr. Gradgrind (injecting his role with a very precise old-British flare, Raymond Fox is excellent), soon realizes that Sissy doesn’t belong in his school and makes it his business to notify her father in person. But the clown had skipped town, leaving his daughter behind. Mr. Gradgrind kindly offers her a place in his home and his school, alongside his two children, Louisa and Tom. But Sissy is from a different world, the world where imagination rules, the right words are ones that come from the heart, and mathematics is just an abstract subject that can’t be applied to life. Not exactly cut out for school, she’s left to stay home and care for Mr. Gradgrind’s wheelchair-bound wife while he spends increasingly more time out of town as a newly elected member of the Parliament.

The most important person in town is the mill-owner and banker Mr. Bounderby (the bombastic Troy West), a self-proclaimed self-made man. He has an eye on Louisa, so when she reaches an appropriate age [of twenty], he asks her hand in marriage. Mostly joyless Louisa (Cordelia Dewdney), whose only passion is her brother Tom (JJ Phillips), agrees, hoping that this will help advance her brother’s carrier in banking. Some of Dickens’ characters are quite difficult to relate to in part because of their excessive wordiness and overly dramatic demeanor, and Louisa is certainly one of them. Nevertheless, all characters are very well developed, the most entertaining of them being Mrs. Sparsit, Mr. Bounderby’s paid companion. Played by Amy J. Carle, who also plays Drunk Woman and Pufflerumpus, she’s manipulative and sarcastic and infuses her role with just the right amount of drama.

The circus performances are effortlessly woven into the plot (Circus Choreographer Sylvia Hernandez-DiStasi), and are like a breath of fresh air in town’s otherwise utilitarian existence. The circus is colorful and joyful, and it’s easy to see the stark contrast between the worlds of art and creativity versus business and hard menial work. Even Louisa starts dreaming of circus in her lowest moments.
Scenic Designer Daniel Ostling created a highly mobile set that’s both imaginative and practical; it provides ever-changing scenery, and the whimsically painted back wall is capable of becoming magically translucent to allow “dreams and memories” to enter the stage.

While the well-to-do townspeople are being bored with their lives, majority of the town’s inhabitants, the poor miners and factory workers, “work day and night with nothing to look forward to but a little rest”. Struggling to stay alive leaves little room for anything else, much less romance, so when miner Stephen Blackpool (David Catlin, who also plays Sleary) asks his workmate Rachael (Atra Asdou, who also plays Mrs. Gradgrind) to spend time with him, she’s far too hopeless to be interested.

All in all, things are as expected: the wealthy run things, the poor have nothing, and a travelling circus is a refuge from it all. If running away with the circus was ever a good option, Tom, who finds himself in trouble with law, doesn’t hesitate for a moment.

“Hard Times” is being performed at Lookingglass Theatre through January 14th. For more information visit www.lookingglass.org.

Winner of four Jeff Awards, including Best Production, and fresh off a national tour, Moby Dick, adapted and directed by David Catlin from the book by Herman Melville, returns to the Lookingglass Theatre. The play is produced in association with The Actors Gymnasium, a circus and performing arts training center.

The story is narrated by adventurous Ishmael, a sailor en route to sign up with a whaling ship, Piqued. Ishmael (superbly played by Jamie Abelson at evening performances) first lands in an overcrowded hotel, where the innkeeper casually informs him that due to lack of room he’ll have to share a bed with another fellow. His muscular, tattoo covered bedmate, Queequeg (the absolutely splendid Anthony Fleming III), is a son of a Polynesian island king, who is on his own soul-searching journey. The two men bond and decide to board the ship together.

The rest of the show takes us onto Piqued. The ship is a testosterone infused man-cave; the sailors do what real men are supposed to do: they go out to dangerous sea to hunt down whales in order to obtain whale oil, a valuable commodity at the time. Their jaw-dropping circus-inspired acrobatic fits of agility (choreography by Sylvia Hernandez-Distasi) add to the feel of masculine energy and the everyday struggle to stay alive.

But Piqued’s disheveled and angry Captain Ahab (fiercely played by Nathan Hosner) is not interested in whale oil, he’s got a score to settle: the giant white whale named Moby Dick bit off his leg during their previous encounter. Captain has been at sea for a very long time, and in his insanity he imagines that the white whale represents all the evil in the world, and thus it must be destroyed. It’s pure all-consuming madness!

Costume designer Sully Ratke’s clever use of fabrics play games with our minds: an oversized woman’s skirt swallows drowning men, a vast piece of white silk brushing past our heads is a giant white whale.

The feminine energy in the play is very distinct. The three female actors (Kelley Abell, Mattie Hawkinson, Cordelia Dewdney) play all the female parts as well as the three Fates. They set the mood with their eerie presence and graceful movements, while their beautiful voices provide live score (sound designer/composer Rick Sims). Sometimes they are just lurking around, and other times they are the forces of nature and nature itself. One of them turns into a whale carcass being stripped of meat and drained of oil by sailors in a vaguely sexual way.

That feminine energy is of stark contrast to the mere mortal men’s struggles to survive. It’s Man vs. Nature, and nature can never be conquered. Spoiler alert: in the end, the Ill-fated ship is swallowed by the over-sized skirt. Vengeance is a two-way street.

About the venue: Lookingglass Theatre is housed in Water Tower Water Works, the historic still functioning water station built in 1869, which pumps 250,000 gallons of water to the north side of Chicago every day. Separated from the theatre space by a glass wall, it feels like a time warp, which sets the mood perfectly for this mid-19th century classic. For more information on this show or to purchase tickets, visit www.Lookingglasstheatre.org.

Just two actors share the credits, yet the stage is crowded with characters in Lookingglass Theatre’s Mr. & Mrs. Pennyworth. This fabulist romp is delightful and fully satisfying, conjuring up characters with artful stagecraft and puppetry that remind us of Red Moon Theatre when it was really cranking.

The puppetry of Blair Thomas is indeed impressive - the animated inanimates range from a mini-replica of Mrs. Pennyworth (Lindsey Noel Whiting) to stage-filling boar. And though puppets are plentiful in Mr. & Mrs. Pennyworth, it is the astounding shadow animations that make this such an amazing experience. Both Whiting and Samuel Taylor are outstanding in their many roles (and stage formats).

Shadow characters grow and diminish, the moving silhouettes created by actors, puppets, and cut-outs on a stick playing against a backlights. Shadow animations by Drew Dir, Sarah Fornace, and Julia Miller for Manual Cinema Studios, and projection designs by Mike Tutaj, are stunning as they work this magic.  

Hidden behind screens, actors and puppeteers move fro and aft, upstage and down, shape shifting and changing in size. Going in every dimension, using the full depth of the stage, the actors and puppet masters play against the backlight to generate a unique images. (If there were an award for blocking, someone must nominate this show.)

Mr. & Mrs. Pennyworth has a steampunk flavor to it, as the ostensibly Victorian-era buskers take a portable stage on the road across Europe, with performance-art renderings of classic fairy tales, after which they pass the hat.

The plot thickens as some of the characters disappear from the tales - notably the Big Bad Wolf. Mr. & Mrs. Pennyworth set out to solve the mystery, which also creates a social crisis - children, Red Riding Hood, even the three little pigs, are losing track of these stories.

Lookingglass Theatre has long mined traditional tales for its line-ups - rendering memorable, and dark, versions of Grimm's Fairy Tales, for example. Hara broadens the source material, with appearances of the familiar (Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz) and less so (Sæhrímnir, a boar killed and eaten nightly by the Norse goods). The show lags a little as some of the Norse saga was being unpacked. But there was enough momentum to sustain it. 

Written and directed by Lookinglass Ensemble member Doug Hara, this work is said to be influenced by Neil Gaiman, whose American Gods characters struggle through similar travails.

This is not just for kids - or maybe it's not even for them. I found myself wondering where it was a little too dark at times, but that is true in the Grimm tales as well.

Hara is entertaining us, but there is something reminding us that people lose hold of their culture when they lose their stories.The Pennyworth’s life work helps secure these stories - tales that keeps us all tethered to the collective memories that are the touchstones of civilization.

Mr. & Mrs. Pennyworth runs through February 19, 2017 at Lookingglass Theatre

As soon as you enter the beautiful set that designer Brian Sidney Bembridge, has created for “Life Sucks", you are tip-toeing through what feels like a real forest of delicately lit white birch trees in the light of early evening in Autumn. 

The action then proceeds mostly on the front porch, and dining room/kitchen of a quaint country style house, complete with a small dock and row boat mired in mud, to indicate this is the log cabin style home of someone wealthy enough to live on a lake but not doing well enough any longer to afford a real boat, which turns out to be true.  

The seven characters enter the stage with house lights up and immediately break the fourth wall by letting the audience know a few things about the play, it has four acts with one intermission, and asking insightful questions like, "Do you think people in a hundred years will care how hard we worked?" Which immediately reminded me of the old joke, "What's the opposite of a nymphomaniac?" with the punchline, "a workaholic."

The next question, for the cast only, has them throwing out an enticing list of their "favorite things" ..."the feel of ice cubes swirling around in a heavy crystal drink glass filled with brandy...and what comes after", "a beautiful sunset over the water" and the adorable, "Kittens!" And once more for emphasis, "KITTENS!" and lest we think this is going to be a saccharine sweet play i.e. "The Sound of Music" - "the feeling of anticipation when you know that you are about to have an orgasm".

Ensemble member Andrew White directs deftly with a light hand, keeping the pace of the play moving in an enjoyable way and flowing from act to act naturally, sensually, without the feeling of rushing.

So many directors charged with productions that exceed two hours or are under ninety minutes with no intermission seem to be rushing the actor’s monologues and dialogue. In some cases you can imagine them standing offstage tapping their feet saying, "Pick up the pace people!", which can actually ruin the show, but Andrew White does just the opposite, calming the audience into actually receiving the message this play is trying to deliver. 

“Life Sucks” is an updated version of the Checkov play "Uncle Vanya" and every single one of the seven characters really holds their own throughout.

Eddie Jemison best known for his work from "Ocean's Eleven", "Waitress" and "Hung" is proof that dynamite comes in small packages as he takes on the role of the middle aged, depressed Vanya. 

The entire cast sprinkle the play with so many humorous Yiddish slang terms with adorable ease like the term "ferkocta" which means crazy in the head, or Vanya declaring over and over that Ella is his "beshert" and soulmate, meaning a person's destined love or a love that was meant to be, a love of heavenly creation. All the while Vanya’s pathos as his obsession with The Professor's beautiful, young wife Ella grows out of control. This leads to a hysterical attack on The Professors life as he describes in a monologue how vile, disgusting and unnatural it is to him that she (Ella) should be with such an "old man".  

The Professor is played perfectly by Jim Ortlieb (Billy Elliot) whose great monologue about how even small signs of aging in a man can ultimately ruin a perfectly good relationship is fantastic. We rarely hear the male point of view on this.

The Professor describes while comically, yet realistically, sliding and crawling down the front steps of the cabin in complete exhaustion after a fight with his young wife Ella - how a man sees in the mirror one day. He now sees his soft belly or some new wrinkles or gray hair and feels insecure leading him to take it out on his partner and she in turn becomes more insecure herself - resulting in more fighting and insecurity or his worst fear of all as she "becomes disengaged" from him entirely.

Chaon Cross as Ella is excellent as the young Master's Degree student who "married the smartest Professor in the whole college" and is hit on by every middle aged loser in this small town. Cross delivers a great monologue ala - don't hate me because I'm beautiful because my brilliant husband turned out to be an aging, ego-maniacal alcoholic. 

Ella asks the audience flat out how many of them want to sleep with her with no strings attached by a show of hands, then asks how many are dying to sleep with someone other than whom they are with - and it is a well delivered, very funny and telling moment for the audience. 

Danielle Zuckerman as Sonia seems to be the opposite of Ella. She is The Professors' only daughter and honestly describes how in her family, "It's like everyone is hard-wired to upset everyone else. Like we each have a bunch of buttons on our back that each one of us knows how to push." 

Sonia knows she is not beautiful, or even pretty, she knows that her weight and height, glasses and curly hair are never featured in the magazines she reads and Zuckerman gives a great, breath of fresh air feeling to the entire production that it inherently needs. In one scene with Ella she admits to actually "hating" Ella for her beauty and attractiveness to ALL the nearby men and Ella forces her to "slap her right in the face" which Sonia does. After the "enjoyable" catharsis of the slap in the face they pour rum and Cokes together and begin to bond as both stepmother and friends. 

Another great scene between Sonia and Dr. Aster, a middle-aged Lothario who wants to change the world - but only talks about it, occurs when Sonia tries to tell the doctor she has a crush on him. When she realizes Dr. Aster is 'in love" with Ella too, she delivers a great monologue after his exit about how she talked with him about "mystical butterflies' when she really wanted to say, "Take me upstairs and f-ck me, f-ck me so well and so hard the whole universe stops to watch ... and the stars stop in their orbits and her whole body finally understands what it is to be truly alive...but instead I talked about mystical butterflies."

Ensemble member, Philip R. Smith, best known for his roles in "High Fidelity" and “Since You've Been Gone" is very funny in the role of Dr. Aster, an admitted alcoholic who rambles on about the very real dangers of climate change and other depressing subjects that remind us these characters are living in the present day.

Another example of the timeliness and universality of this play is when at one point an audience member is asked what his deepest, darkest fear is and he answered without hesitation, "Donald Trump", which got a huge laugh.

Penelope Walker plays "Pickles", a lesbian (who ALSO flirts with Ella). Pickles is a neighbor and friend of Sonia's late mother who wanted to be a real artist but ended up crafting what looked like leg warmers for the birch trees to wear and hand puppets made of yarn. Walker is funny and upbeat as the character whose age we can't quite tell, the free-spirited loser we all love who would never say life sucks even if hers does.

At the end of the show, Vanya and the cast break the fourth wall for the last time and confront the entire audience with the question, "Does life suck?" Some people shouted “yes”, or “no”, I shouted “sometimes”. Then Vanya called specifically out to the woman sitting two seats away from me (his wife) and asked her, she poignantly answered, "No it does not suck because life is beautiful – there is even beauty in its pain." I had to agree with her. 

Highly recommended.

“Life Sucks is being performed at Lookingglass Theatre through November 6th – www.Lookingglasstheatre.org.