On Your Feet! is the compelling rags to riches tale of Emilio Estefan and Gloria Fajardo Estefan’s odyssey - from dreaming Cuban immigrants, to stars who brought a fresh Latin flavor to the American song book.

It’s also a love story, and a musical journey. It wasn’t painless, either. And the story line – they flee the island as the Communists rise to power, they fight against great resistance by recording studios to allow them to cross over to general audiences - provides sufficient grist for a dramatic mill that makes this much more than a juke box musical.

The Estefans’ music, popularized through their band, the Miami Sound Machine, in the 1980’s, may be less a fixture of our contemporary music scene – Shakira, from Columbia, is now better known as a Latin music star and alone has sold more albums than Gloria. But without question the Estefans’ songs are embedded in our collective culture.

At first, producers refused to release their music outside the traditional Latin markets, thinking it couldn't sell to "ordinary" Americans. In the show, Emilio goes nose to nose with the record label executive, telling him, “This is the face of an American!”, a line that won healthy applause from the Cadillac Theatre audience.

The Estafans resorted to guerrilla marketing, bringing records directly to dance clubs and pop stations, and performing for free at bar mitzvas and a Shriners convention. The strategy worked, launching the 1985 hit, “Conga,” to the top of the charts While nowadays YouTube, Vimeo and Facebook would do the trick.

To tell their story, the two developed On Your Feet! With its creative team and the rich vein of Gloria Estefan’s music, On Your Feet! made for a likely slam dunk, and indeed it is. The road show is directed by Jerry Mitchell – he won a Tony for Kinky Boots - with choreography by Sergio Trujillo (you saw his work in Jersey Boys). And the book is Alexander Dinelaris, who received an Academy Award for the movie Birdman (about a Broadway play, by the way).

Excitement comes from the moment the curtain rises on the big orchestra, which plays from back stage. The scene soon moves to Miami’s Little Havana, where the dutiful young Gloria Estefan is doing laundry, and singing traditional songs. In fact, the varieties of music - from renditions of street songs, to a fully orchestrated and choreographed night club act from pre-revolution Havana (starring Gloria’s mother, played with panache by Nancy Triotin - shades of Chita Rivera!) - enrich this show musically.

The quality and precision of the choreography is also worth noting. These highly expressive yet disciplined dancers are among the best I have seen in any musical, anywhere.

In addition to featuring the best-of songs (“Rhythm is Gonna Get You,” “Conga,” “Get On Your Feet,” “Don’t Want To Lose You Now,” “1-2-3” and “Coming Out of the Dark”) the Estefan’s added some new transitional pieces for the show. Some familiar greats, such as “Words Get In the Way,” aren’t included in the show.

The drama crescendos when a severe bus accident nearly paralyzes Gloria, and her struggle to recover. In a fresh approach, Emilio (Mauricio Martinez) solos on, “I Don’t Want to Lose You Now,” one of Gloria’s most beautiful singles. It is a real showcase for Martinez, Mexico’s telenovela heart throb, who commands the stage and dominates his scenes. It also turns out he can dance really well.

While Gloria Estefan’s lovely contralto can’t be matched, she is said to have hand selected Christie Prades to play her character for this road show. Prades delivers a great performance both in song and dance, and she is a good actress to boot.

On Your Feet! originated here in Chicago in 2015 before making its celebrated Broadway run, and then returning to a road tour across the country and around the world. (It opened again in Chicago at the Cadillac Palace Theatre on March 23 and runs through April 8.)

It’s an unsettling opening scene: actor Gregory Fenner silently dons a noose strung from a tree in as he steps into the role of Darnell. When the spotlight hits him, he lifts his head to speak, and Stacy Osei-Kuffour’s Hang Man takes flight as a play.

Darnell is hanging from a tree in rural Mississippi - a repugnant image that has been seared into our national consciousness. But he is really two characters: Darnell, the corpse, and, when he lifts his head and opens this mouth to address the audience, he becomes Darnell the commentator, letting us know that there is more to this story than what we might surmise. Along the way, he hands out clues to keep us off track. “Can’t a black man just commit suicide?” he suggests at one point. (But it’s not that, either.)

Hang Man can touch this “third rail” image because of Osei-Kuffour’s fearless artfulness. The character Darnell and Fenner’s performance are among the highlights of the play. Notably, Darnell speaks sparingly, occasionally addressing the audience, and carrying on lengthier conversations with his young niece.

At one point, opening his eyes, Darnell lifts his head and says, “I like living in Mississippi. It’s pretty.” Then he resumes his corpse-ly repose. I wished that we had heard even more from him.

In fact, Darnell is on stage throughout the play – though the spotlight is not always on him. He goes back into the character of corpse after he has his say, or speaks lovingly to his favorite young niece, G (Mariah Sydnei Gordon is excellent). And G is the play’s Everyman.

To avoid a spoiler, we won’t want to give more away on Darnell’s story, but suffice it to say Osei-Kuffour has packed this character, and the play, with ironic commentary, giving us characters that are parodies of types, some of them ripped right out of the news pages. Because they are largely inept, we don’t take them too seriously.

There are black types: Sage (Jennifer Glass), hard bitten and tough (and G’s stern but loving mom) who has adopted a cowgirl persona and dances in a local country bar. And Jahaad (Martel Manning is terrific), recently converted to Islam, and just released from incarceration (he was jailed for stealing Beany Baby’s!). Jahaad, is tracking down Darnell to collect a gambling debt, falls for Sage, who holds him at bay: “I ain’t bringing no ghetto Muslim to a honty tonk with me!” she tells him.

There are white types: Paul D’Addario, as Archie, displays the mean-spirited emotional and physical cruelty through which white racism is expressed. Andy Fleischer, as his sidekick Wipp, a deputy sheriff, is an unrestrained send-up of white yokels. Archie and Wipp also share both a bro mentality, and a love interest in Margarie.

And finally there is an outlier, a trans-racial type, Margarie, played with complete abandon by Angela Morris. Margarie is a bit unhinged, and becomes progressively more so as the action progresses. Embodying white guilt (“Sorry!” she says in recompense  for slavery), Margarie is redolent of a real life character, Rachel Dolezal, who rose to prominence two years ago when she was outed as actually white, despite posing as an African-American woman in her role as an as a regional NAACP director and an Africana studies director.

With this stew, the Hang Man provides rich terrain for farce, and we get a lot of that. But as the mayhem escalates, something unravels, and playwright seems to be struggling to tie up the strands. We eventually get to the curtain, but a gun is discharged multiple times. And I couldn’t help thinking of comedic writer Michael O’Donohue’s advice to authors struggling with an ending: "Observe how easily I resolve this problem: Suddenly, everyone was run over by a truck." 

The string of scenes forms a cohesive, if loosely knit, plot, and a lot of worthy ground is covered in the skit-like parodies. But at a certain point, I found myself hoping it would end soon, and not sure where what could or should have made that happen. 

Nonetheless, serious followers of the theater will want to see this provocative work. Hang Man runs through April 29 at The Gift Theatre.

Got to admit I was floored to arrive to find Sweet Tap Chicago, a tap dancing show, was packed for its Sunday matinee at Chicago’s City Winery.
The promise that had lured me - jazz and tap dancing together – was borne largely out of curiosity. In fact, the show delivered so much more than jazz – venturing into uncharted territory for tap dance arrangements to a broad survey of musical styles, and all of it rooted in Chicago.

The Sweet Tap Chicago Band (led by bassist Kurt Schweitz, with Bob Parlier, Corbin Andrick, Cole DeGenova, and with singers JC Brooks and Taylor Mallory) delivered fresh arrangements well suited for tap dancers, from Muddy Waters, father of Chicago blues, to Chicagoan Billy Corgin’s Smashing Pumpkins (Today); from CTA (Saturday In the Park) to Wilco (I’m Trying to Break Your Heart). The dance troupe trotted out classic tap routines for some sets, and performed improvisations at other points, delivering percussive footwork retorts to drum and sax solo lines.

One highlight of the performance was versatile singer Taylor Mallory, a music stylist and personable impresario, who was just at home singing a Styx medley, as he was rapping Wanna Be Cool by Donny Trumpet and Chance the Rapper. Rap really pairs well with tap, it turns out. Mallory delivered a rather inspired mash-up of Curtis Mayfield’s Move On Up and Kanye West’s Touch the Sky. (Chicago native Mayfield was a denizen of Cabrini- Green.) And singer JC Brooks was an infectious presence on the stage, especially in a preview of “Get Into the Groove,” from an upcoming Chicago Tap Theatre review based on Madonna songs.

The event also spotlighted the versatility of City’s Winery’s venue, a cozy room seating 300 for great food, fine wine, and vintage acts that fit the space The Zombies  play next week; Joan Armatrading plays there June 9-14 City Winery also curates rising talent, an invaluable service to audiences and the local music scene.

Before Sunday’s show, it had been awhile since I thought about tap dancers – like back to Savion Glover, who singlehandedly resuscitated the form on Broadway in Jelly’s Last Stand (1992) and Bring in Da Noise (1996). Tap dancing hadn’t gone away, really – it had gone a little underground. But in 2002 the Chicago Tap Theatre was formed to nurture and develop it.

Mark Yonally, artistic director and the driving force behind Chicago Tap Theatre, set out with the dance group’s music director Kurt Schweitz to choreograph new pieces set to music from, or inspired by, the city of Chicago, and the musicians associated with this city. The concept was to resurrect the idea of a jazz dance club, and to prove that all music is tap music. Well, mission accomplished. www.chicagocitywinery.com

A stunning production of a striking play at First Floor Theater, Dontrell Who Kissed the Sea, has the hallmarks of a hit in the making for Chicago. This coming-of-age play by Nathan Alan Davis tells the story of a dreamer, the eighteen-year-old Dontrell, in the summer just before college.
Dontrell Jones the Third (Jalen Gilbert), we learn, is a highly successful student, advanced placement whiz, and accomplished athlete, who has earned his way into Johns Hopkins University. But with all his intellectual accomplishments, Dontrell also remains tapped into the robust imaginary world he has inhabited since childhood.
We meet Dontrell as he lies in bed, dictating a “ships log” into a pocket recorder – a la Star Trek – aimed at “future generations.” He is planning a quest, based on a vivid dream he has had of an ancestor, whom he believes leapt to his death in the Atlantic from a slave ship during the “Middle Passage.”
Contemplating this visions of this heroic journey to encounter his ancestor on the floor of the sea, Dontrell is disturbed as his annoying younger sister, Danielle (Destiny Strothers) calls him to dinner. He must come down on the double, or the two will have to deal with Mom – a force to be reckoned with (as is Shariba Rivers in the role of Mom).
Next scene finds Dontrell diving into the deep end of the pool to teach himself to swim. He nearly drowns and is pulled out, unconscious, by life guard Erika (Kayla Raelle Holder). Dontrell immediately asks his savior to further his quest, and to be his swim coach.

This pair also play archetypes: Dontrell, as innocent youth; and Erika, his mentor (and perhaps, a magical water nymph?). A sleepover at Erika’s soon leads to romance, and revealing stories.
Having mastered swimming, Dontrell decides to tackle diving to reach that ancestor. Erika in tow, Dontrell heads home, and soon enough Mom and Dad (Brian Nelson Jr. is powerful) learn of his plans. Fireworks ensue. Cousin Shea (Brianna Buckley) and best friend Robby (Jerome Beck) ably deliver key roles in this drama. Playwright Davis has thoughtfully given each character at least one show-stopping moment of delivery, offering powerful dramatic moments.
The production of Dontrell, Who Kiss the Sea has received a visionary expression in its direction by Chika Ike, with scenic design by Eleanor Khan and lighting design by Rachel Levy. This dynamic production is furthered by an original sound score (Sarah D. Espinoza) artfully choreographed scenes (Breon Arzell and Gaby Lobotka), and seven players in a movie-star-caliber cast (casting is by Catherine Miller).
The play also glides along on the magical side, with the troupe enveloping the audience in evocative chant and dance rituals, all readily resonate, especially if you have seen Black Panther (though the timing was purely coincidental).
The play has been produced previously in Indianapolis, Washington, Los Angeles and other cities, and was selected to be part of the National Rolling Premiers of the New Play Network. (That program fosters premiers of new plays in multple cities within a 12-month period.) 

Davis also tapped into a trending African-American magic realism, the creative zeitgeist seen in Colson White’s novel Underground Railroad and the current cultural movie phenomenon, Black Panther. Davis, with an MFA from Indiana University, a graduate of Juilliard's Playwrights Program and a lecturer at Princeton, along with the magic, has also brought a kind of classicism and erudition to this script. Hopefully this show will be picked up for a larger venue following its current run. But don't take a chance on missing it. 

Dontrell Who Kissed the Sea comes highly recommended. It runs at The Den Theatre through March 31. 

Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, said Tolstoy. And Lifeline Theatre artfully explores that famous maxim in Anna Karenina, its colorful and artful adaptation of Tolstoy’s novel. 

The story of Anna Karenina follows a 19th century woman’s fall from grace. Dutiful but unfulfilled in her marriage to Karenin, an unimaginative Russian government bureaucrat, Anna compensates by doting on her six-year-old son – until an affair up-ends everything, leading to tragedy.

I have to admit that the idea of Anna Karenina being adapted for Lifeline Theater’s stage was a little off-putting. After all, Leo Tolstoy’s poignant examination of a woman’s inner struggle is regarded as a pinnacle in writing, called "flawless" by both Dosteyevsky and Nabokov, and “the best ever written” by Faulkner. It’s so good it has inspired nine operas, four ballets, and 18 different movies. 

What does Lifeline Theatre bring to the party after all that? Something good, it turns out – with a creative approach that captures key aspects of the novel – while delivering more than a Cliff’s Notes summary. Anna Karenina - both the play and the novel - is largely melodrama, ending in tragedy. Tolstoy's skillfully drawn characters provide the emotional touch points that remain fresh today, and can work on stage.

Challenging, though, is the Tolstoy’s sweeping scope and settings - estates, boulevards, palaces and mansions in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and the trains and farms between them - which may explain why it has been adapted just twice before for stage. It’s hard to bring all that to the boards.

But cramming a lot of life into a little stage is where Lifeline Theatre excels. Ensemble members Jessica Wright Buha (playwright and adaptor) and Amanda Link (director) have done a colorful, even exciting job. Crowding the two-story stage in a series of vignettes of key scenes from the novel are eleven performers, along with puppets designed by Stephanie Diaz (these play the role of infants and children). 

Players shift from principal characters to ensemble roles, performing sometimes in stylized movements and sounds that create what is in some respects is more performance piece than dramatization of Anna Karenina. Excellent lighting (Diane D. Fairchild), and original music and sound design (Eric Backus), build key scenes from the novel. Perhaps as a result, individual performances are subordinated to the overall creative presentation. Actors are on stage in short shots, not aimed at building character, so much as advancing the storyline. 

Buha summarizes Tolstoy effectively by focusing on four parallel relationships: Anna and her husband Karenin; Stiva and his wife Dolly; Vronsky and his two paramours; Kitty and her husband Levin - allowing us to compare and contrast the best and worst of these pairings. 

The action opens with Countess Anna (Ilse Zacharias ably carries this demanding role) heading to visit her brother, Prince Stiva Oblonsky  (Dan Cobbler brings great energy), who has had an extramarital affair. He and his wife Dolly agree to Anna's counsel to stay and pick up the pieces. But Dolly (Aneisa Hicks in one of the stronger performances) voices her predicament: "How can I stay?," she asks Anna. "But if I leave, where will I go?" It's an apt summary of a woman's plight at the time, and foreshadow's Anna's own situation.  

In the novel intellectually curious and quite lovely, Anna catches the eye of Count Vronsky, a widely admired young officer for whom women swoon. Truly smitten, Vronsky sets his sites on seducing Anna, abandoning 18 year old Kitty, the debutant to whom he was nearly engaged. 

Eventually Anna falls for Vronsky, becomes pregnant, and her options narrow - dictated by convention. Her husband Karenin is willing to turn a blind eye to the affair to maintain the marriage; or Anna can seek a divorce, but will likely lose custody of her son.

Eric Gerard as Vronsky puts forth a believable animal magnetism, but seemed more of a caricature at first. In later scenes he is compelling in his desperation to move Anna to divorce, and commit fully to life with him. Kudos also to Gay Glenn, who brings the gravitas to play Vronsky's mother, Countess Vronskaya; Lindsey Dorcus as Anna's enabler (and Vronsky's cousin) Betsy; and Jason Pereira as Kapitonich, a composite character. 

Anna’s husband, Karenin (Michael Reyes is suitably doltish), is willing even to endure an open marriage and adopt her child with Vronsky, if Anna can maintain some semblance of discretion. Another character, family friend Levin (Dan Granata acts well but did not project from the stage), struggles to get married, and suffers endless angst after Kitty, spurned by Vronsky, agrees to marry, reversing an earlier refusal. Brandi Lee's Kitty moves adeptly from disappointed ingenue, to practical mother and wife, coaching her diffident husband to overcome his self doubt. 

The production runs two and a half hours with an intermission, and is surprisingly  fast paced and engaging. Anna Karenina runs through April 8 at Lifeline Theatre, 

The Burn, a lively tale of a high school drama class putting on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, is spectacularly good. The script by Philip Dawkins was commissioned for the Steppenwolf’s Theatre’s Young Adult Theater Program. But this in no way diminishes it as a creative work – it is far, far more than an educational theater program.

Dawkins brings us four students and a teacher, introducing at first just the social surface, gradually individualizing them, and masterfully drilling down into the characters to reveal what makes each of them tick.

The Burn operates on several levels at once. It provides a portrait of the battleground educators face in classes of students with limited attention spans – a contemporary Blackboard Jungle. These young people display the confidence spawned by that thin yet wide breadth of knowledge so readily garnered online.

The Burn also addresses the perpetual condition of student social strata, amped up these days through social media platforms that can at times feed an unfortunate frenzy of bullying.

And finally, its story parallels the drama of the Miller’s masterwork, The Crucible, a dissection of the violence unleashed when a 17^th Century Puritanical community’s dark forces are unconstrained. Miller’s dramatization of  the actual 1692 Salem witch trials in the Massachusetts Bay Colony is now an essential per of our cultural literacy. (Steppenwolf produced The Crucible earlier this season - read our review by John Accrocco.) But the play can be impenetrable. This new take by Dawkins illuminates Miller’s story, and will undoubtedly be produced widely at schools.

In The Burn, Tara, the social standard setter and bully (Birgundi Baker) hangs out with a dumbed-down girls’ basketball team member Andi (Nina Ganet) and with Shauna (Dyllan Rodrigues-Miller), who straddles the respectable world of accomplished student, while also following Tara as a member of her “mean girls” clique. Transfer student Mercedes (Phoebe González) is never admitted to the group, and in fact is harassed in person and on line. Mercedes carries a lot of baggage from a violent event that caused her to change schools, finding comfort by becoming a born-again Christian in the process.

We first meet the students as their good-natured teacher, Erik (Erik Hellman, who also starred in The Crucible) struggles to engage the class in diagramming a sentence. He finally gets their attention by using a more personal sentence about Tara, and thereby hints at the increasingly personal encounters that are to follow. 

A high school, or any theater production, for that matter, is also an intensely powerful emotional experience for the players involved. As The Burn progresses, the students rehearse and play their roles, and must learn to perform as a unit. This shifts the emotional dynamics, and the dynamic of the group begins to shift. Tension mounts as Tara’s hold on the group is threatened, and Erik confronts her bullying behavior.

Dawkins is an accomplished playwright, as well as teaching the art at Northwestern, Loyola and Victory Gardens – and demonstrates the high level of craft he has attained from that background. Like Snap Chat, Messenger and Twitter, the play’s delivery runs at an almost breakneck pace – and in that sense is very fitting for its target audience. But the older crowd should not miss it. I laughed and cried and wanted to stand up and cheer when it was done. So yes, it’s highly recommended! Catch it at Steppenwolf Theatre through March 10.

Millennial angst is in the air, and never better captured than in Clare Barron’s autobiographical “You Got Older.” You will laugh at its depictions of a young woman less-than-dexterously navigating her way through the trials of reaching a grown-up state in this first-rate production at Steppenwolf Theatre.

Mae, a 27-year-old unemployed lawyer (dumped, then fired, by her boyfriend and boss) is played by Caroline Neff. Back home in Seattle to nurse her dad through an episode of throat cancer, Mae carries most of the load for the play, a self-portrait of Barron that the author put together a few years ago to clear her writer’s block. Such works risk veering toward a self-indulgent exercise, but You Got Older largely avoids this.

It is true that in “You Got Older” we get more of a slice-of-life than a play with a plot. But most of the scenes - some real, others imagined - are hilariously funny or touchingly insightful (with maybe a couple clunkers). Awesomely fun is a recurring erotic fantasy, which arrives in the form of intermittent scenes with the hyper-masculine, bearded Cowboy in leather vest and chaps, lasso at the ready, who plays out Mae’s deep-seated desires. Gabriel Ruiz is over the top good as Cowboy.

The manly Cowboy contrasts with scenes with a real-life bar pick-up, the inept Mac, whose fetishes dovetail perfectly with Mae’s insecurities. Glenn Davis is comically nerdy, climbing clumsily into her bedroom window, then falling asleep before the tryst even gets started.

In the background, serious life issues play out. Mae’s Dad (Francis Guinan) has throat cancer, and its uncertain what outcome he will have. In Dad’s hospital room we meet Mae’s family following the surgery – two sisters and a brother – with an extended exposure to family culture. This perhaps overly long scene includes a humorous “picnic” (avocados and grapefruit), a peculiar “sniff-out” as the siblings try to determine “the family smell,” and the revelation that the family likes to dance together.

Another scene plays out somewhat gratuitously, as Mae and Dad listen to a four-minute recording of Regina Spekter's Firewood, played on an unamplified iPhone at a level where lyrics are barely audible. Dad has declared it the "theme song" of his illness. The sentimental concept of sharing a meaningful song is conveyed; but the dramatic impact is questionable. A closing dance scene with the four siblings is likewise more important to the author than the audience.  

In one scene of serious emotion, Mae argues with her father over how to approach a job interview. Mae plans to Skype it in; Dad advises going in person. When Mae out-argues him on which approach is better, Dad declares, “This conversation is over,” and withdraws, closing the door in her face.  Mae shouts at the door to no avail, “Admit it, Dad. You’re wrong!”

Neff’s performance is a standout, lacing with dry ironic tone the world weariness that captures the essence of the “generation next’s” view of its forbears, and her own struggles as life turns out to be far less than originally advertised.

Barron won a 2015 Obie Award for the play, and it is easy to see why. Jonathan Berry has pulled a well-crafted ensemble performance by  Audrey Francis and Emjoy Gavino (Mae’s sisters Hannah and Jenny), and David Lind (brother Matthew). The production runs through March 11 at www.steppenwolf.org.

You Got Older’s production team has perhaps even exceeded the script in excellence: Meghan Raham (scenic design), Alison Siple (costume design), Marcus Doshi (lighting design), Matt Chapman (sound design & original music), Rasean Davonte Johnson (projection design), Gigi Buffington (company vocal coach) and Sasha Smith (intimacy choreography). Casting director JC Clementz deserves special acknowledgement for the great chemistry on stage.  

In Skeleton Crew, playwright Dominique Morisseau hits close to home, presenting an event that still profoundly impacts America: the 2008 economic meltdown. It is captured here in the form of an imminent Detroit car plant closure.

Our memories are still fresh from that time, and wounds to our social fabric not fully healed from a period when millions lost their homes and savings, and we careened to the brink of a global depression, nearly bankrupting U.S. auto makers.

As Skeleton Crew opens, this tumultuous crash is still unfolding and American were living through early phases of what would befall us. At the plant, management has been whittling away at the employee headcount, raising workloads for those remaining, even as rumors abound that this auto body metal stamping plant may close.

The action plays out entirely in the break room, from which massive industrial gantries and cranes are visible overhead. The clamor of the production line permeates the set as we meet Faye, a senior factory veteran and United Auto Workers Union steward (Jacqueline Williams delivers a dynamic performance); Dez, an aspiring young entrepreneur just finding his in life and work (Bernard Gilbert is excellent); and Shanita, an expectant mom who is also model employee. (AnJi White offers a richly textured performance). A supervisor, Reggie (Kelvin Rolston, Jr.) who has risen through the ranks, represents management in the unfolding drama.

I suspect these characters also stand as archetypes, symbolizing familiar types and generational shifts – each carries also a large measure of personal baggage and backstory. We learn that Reggie’s late mom was very close to Faye, and that Faye was like a second mother to him. We see Dez mapping out plans to open a small business – a car repair and restoration shop - but sense the incursions of rising crime and social dissolution. Dez is jumped by two thugs at a convenience store, and with the perspective of today's #BlackLivesMatter sensibilities, see another young black male at risk. Dez begins to carry a gun, and perhaps Morisseau means to foreshadow the tribulation of inner city violence today.   

The more circumspect Shanita represents self-reliance and maturity. Perhaps just a little older than Dez, she fends off his less-than-serious amorous advances, until shifting gears when she becomes pregnant. Faye is the establishment, the UAW go-between to management negotiating secretly with Reggie over how workers will be affected by the shutdown. We learn the circumstances of her personal life are crumbling - as is the auto industry, and perhaps Morisseau is suggesting, social norms.

Morisseau’s earlier installments in her trilogy of plays, Detroit 67 (at Northlight in 2013) and Paradise Blue at Chicago’s Timeline Theatre in July 2017 – also displayed her facility for rich dialog, and an eye for character and dramatic trajectory. All three have been directed by Ron O.J Parsons (formidably well in Paradise Blue and Skeleton Crew; I missed Detroit 67). Parsons is also a frequent interpreter of August Wilson’s dramas at Court Theatre, where he is an artist in residence, and around the country. That is a fit for Morisseau, who says she aspires to give voice to Detroit (she uses the word “griot” for her role here) just as August Wilson was for Pittsburgh in his cycle of plays set there.  

Northlight Theater's high production values have given a fine expression to this show, with Scott Davis (scenic design), Samantha C. Jones (costumes), Keith Parham (lighting), and Ray Nardelli (sound). Rita Vreeland is Production Stage Manager. The show is highly recommended, especially so since you are well advised to watch for revivals of the rest of Morisseau's trilogy. Skeleton Crew runs through March 3 at Northlight's home, the Northshore Center for the Performing Arts in Skokie.

Rose, the one-woman show featuring the matriarch of the Kennedy family, has returned to the Greenhouse Theater Center. In an extraordinary performance by Linda Reiter, Rose provides a back-story on the family dynamics at play among the Kennedy’s - a window into the powerful maternal force that delivered so many dynamic individuals, including two Senators and a President, to the public sphere.

The show received accolades during its 2016 incarnation, and it is easy to see why. But the social landscape has changed mightily since then. But it was probably not planned that way at Greenhouse Theater. The current run, which coincides with the first anniversary of President Donald Trump’s election, serves as a commentary on the times - with a Presidency that has moved into what Peggy Noonan has called a “post heroic” phase. 

Highly successful in its original run in Chicago and off-Broadway, this 120-minute, one-act script by  Laurence Leamer artfully chronicles the trials of the long-suffering Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy. Though during the days when her sons Jack, Robert, and Ted Kennedy were in office, Rose Kennedy was a more behind the scenes public force than another comparable political scion, Barbara Bush, in her day.

“I’d rather be the mother of the President than the President,” Rose tells us, moving around a sitting room of French provincial furniture, in slacks, sweater and pearls, and her signature black bouffant hairdo. She lifts the many photos and peruses albums, some of which are also projected on a wal behind the set.

The details into the family come from years of research by author Leamer, who wrote a best-selling trilogy on the Kennedys - The Kennedy Women, The Kennedy Men and Sons of Camelot - all New York Times best sellers. Leamer was subsequently given access to 50 hours of taped interviews with Rose Kennedy, which provide a previously unseen look into the family, including infidelities and troubling dynamics of her marriage to Joseph P. Kennedy, Sr., a successful businessman, and appointed by Franklin Roosevelt as the first chairman of the Securities & Exchange Commission. He is known also to Chicagoans as the owner of the Merchandise Mart.

Chicago actress Linda Reiter reprises her role, in an excellent, highly polished performance that will draw a tear as she recounts the many successes of her offspring, four of whom (Jack assassinated in 1963 and Robert in 1968; her oldest Joseph, dies in an air force bombing mission 1944; and Kathleen in a 1947 plane crash).

It is a telling commentary on the cultural landscape that the relevance of Rose is quite changed. During its 2016 run, Artistic Director Jacob Harvey anticipated former first lady Hillary Clinton as a first woman U.S. President.  And one whose spouse had leveraged political links to the Kennedy family during his Presidential campaigns.  

But that was not how it turned out. And so how do we look at Rose today?

Leamer presents a full-dimensioned character with Rose, who is revealed over the course of this 100-minute one-act by her one-sided conversation with an unseen visitor, who arrives soon after Ted Kennedy’s Chappaquiddick scandal cum tragedy.

Periodically phone calls interrupt – her daughters Eunice and Pat; the widow Jacqueline. She is hoping to hear from Teddy, her only remaining son, but he is AWOL for the moment.

In the face of this latest blow to the family, Rose is seeking solace in the Greek tragedies, citing Hecuba, a play by Euripides.

This detail by Leamer gives the play heft and illuminates its underpinnings; we are to see Rose as a woman who has suffered unbearable pain, and yet she endures. Her ancient counterpart Hecuba has several parallels to Rose: she lost her throne as queen when Troy fell; she had nineteen children with wealthy King Priam; she saw a daughter Polyxena sacrificed by enemies, and her youngest son, Polydorus, murdered by enemies.

Rose Kennedy had nine children with wealthy Joseph P. Kennedy; she lived to see two assassinated and two killed in crashes.

Euripides Hecuba is driven mad by her suffering. Rose handles it with Stoicism – another gift of the Greeks, though her version comes by way of the Catholic Church of Irish-Americans.   

“My faith is a discipline, a path from which I never wander,” Rose tells us. She references the Greeks again in a quote favored by her son, Bobby - “God, whose law it is that he who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despite, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.”

If the Presidency is in a post-heroic phase, the play Rose gives us access to the powerful story of the a more congenial moment in time when individuals and leaders asked not what the country could do for them, but what they could do for the country. Rose runs through March 11 at the Greenhouse Theater Center.

The mayor of small-town East Lake, Illinois is facing a crisis: lead contamination was just discovered under a thriving magnet school, one that has become a sparkplug over the past few years for a dramatic influx of new residents, real estate development and a thriving local economy.

Complicating matters for Mayor Patty Stock (played with gusto by Kirsten Fitzgerald): the bad news was delivered by her brother Dr. Tom Stock (Guy Van Swearingen in a knockout performance), the revered science professor who returned to his home town just to teach at this school.

A Red Orchid Theatre's new show, Traitor, taps Henrik Ibsen’s 1882 comedy-drama, An Enemy of the People, and like the original is packed with characters (the mayor’s sister-in-law, her niece and nephew, the publisher and a reporter for the local town paper, Dr. Stock’s father-in-law and three town council members). It is a high energy production that at first plays largely like a screwball comedy. Five people at one point are talking at once over each other’s lines.

As the action unfolds in mythical East Lake, around Dr. Stock’s kitchen table, the mayor calls for gin and her brother Dr. Stock invites everyone to “self-medicate” on medical marijuana. Dr. Stock’s long - suffering wife, Karla Kihl-Stock (Dado) is beset by interruptions as she tries to get some freelance book editing done as the kitchen turns into a Grand Central Station with arrivals and departures.

The drama turns on whether to publish the lead contamination findings in the Non Pareil newspaper, since that will likely kill the magnet school’s success. Dr. Stock, more of a firebrand, and advocates publishing right away. We learn from his wife he is a serial whistle blower, having done something similar (and killing his employment prospects) in several towns before. Mildly amusing and seeming to rely on histrionics, Traitor bumbles along, and we are not quite sure where it's headed or why we should care. 

Then the play takes a turn to awesomeness, with an ingenious shift of venue: as the drama crescendo’s the lights come up and the audience is ushered from its seats to an adjacent storefront, where the East Lake City Council is convening an emergency public meeting to deal with this crisis. The audience automatically take on the roles of townsfolk, and Chair Woman Mary Jo Bolduc (Fran Wysocki), and board members Jacob Alexander (Eric Ryhde) and Natalie West (Jenn Sheffer) conduct a truly hilarious meeting, punctuated by Alexander’s gratuitously mumbling “Second” and Wysocki’s efforts to maintain order. Chaos descends and a melee ensues. 

West, who we have met earlier as the perpetually self-promoting owner of Needle Knit Shop, is even more daffy in this town hall segment. And Mayor Stock recuses herself, then proceeds to disregard her recusal. Those words will be familiar to anyone tracking the investigative committees in Washington! 

This village meeting would be at home on the stages across the street at Zanie's and Second City. The first part of the play is really a set-up for the town council meeting, which gives the whole enterprise a bigger meaning. Wysocki in particular glad hands the audience like any pol, and I was as excited to meet her as if she had been the real thing. That's acting! 

In adapting Ibsen’s 1882 original, playwright Brett Neveu updated the plot and injected contemporary details, sometimes more or less deftly. Social media augments the newspaper channel, for example - that makes sense. But a "Taco Tuesday" device that presumably explains why everyone comes and goes from the Stock household seems kind of strange.

Like Arthur Miller who first adapted it for Broadway in 1950, Neveu has excised Dr. Stock’s rants on eugenics. But he has left in Stock's cry of desperation over the “tyranny of unenlightened masses” that can diminish the social fabric. Dr. Stock’s call will certainly resonate in an age of the Kardashian’s and a famous TV personality now in the White House. That the issues facing our body politic are showing up on our stages - Tracy Lett's recent Minutes at Steppenwolf covers similar territory - reminds us of the useful role theater plays for our community. 

When the audience returns to the theater, the plot takes a more serious turn, and we learn students are lethargic, and the lead poisoning is a real threat. The Stock's own son Randal (15-year-old Nation Stock) shows signs of the poisoning - and delivers a stirring preroration on the tendency adults have to focus on self aggrandizement and power plays than to address the real problems at their root. 

A Red Orchid Theatre received a Macarthur Foundation Genius Grant in 2016, and Traitor is evidence why. A few rough edges notwithstanding, but this is a strong effort. You will not want to miss it during its run, through February 25 at A Red Orchid Theatre, 1531 N Wells in Chicago.