Displaying items by tag: Helen Young

TimeLine Theatre has entranced me for years with its historically- and politically-significant plays, riveting and educational – just my cup of tea! So, I felt honor-bound to pay homage to the final event TimeLine will produce in their current (way-too-small) Lincoln Park venue, where they’ve been for a quarter century. BLACK SUNDAY, by Dolores Diaz, sounded intriguing: a 1930’s rural family starving on land that’s been devastated by locusts, drought, and the Depression, leading up to the cataclysmic storm on April 14, 1935 that earned the Plains its moniker “Dust Bowl” (and inspired a Woody Guthrie song).

The story sounds terrific, but unfortunately it didn’t play out on the stage. All five characters were essentially caricatures of archetypal characters, without any individual uniqueness or liaison with one another. The performances were superb but fragmented by rapid runs of brief scenes that blacked out as soon as they got close to showing us who the characters were.

Pa (David Parkes), characterizing ‘strong silent type’, surpassed that cliche and went straight to surly and loutish. There was not one point in the production where I got any idea of how he felt about his wife or teenage daughter. He didn’t want to leave his Land, and that was the sum of his persona.

Certainly, the disasters across the Plains drove people insane and many of those were women. Ma (Mechelle Moe) was a traditionally Freudian hysteric: driven barmy by hardship and despair, she’s become psychotic, having visions that show her … what? I never quite saw. Ma hangs on Pa, imploring him to SEE the message in her visions and leave this hard-luck farm. I saw no trace of affection between Ma and Pa, but no true hostility either – the brief scenes of domestic violence were well played but uninformative. Aside from that one brief flare there was no real sense of how they felt about one another.

The character of daughter Sunny (Angela Morris) was classic rebellious adolescent, amplified by hardship and fear. Her rebellion and desire to fly the coop were authentic, but playwright Díaz returned to Victorian psychoanalysis by making her hypersexual, rubbing her baps on both the Mexican vagrant farmhand Jesús (Christopher Alvarenga) and the timorous preacher Jim (Vic Kuligowski). Jim’s extreme uptightness was noteworthy but never explored, though there could well have been interesting reasons for his qualms – deeply closeted? Wife and kids back in Abilene? Actually, hankering for Ma? Or Jesús? Jesús’s character is billed as having some sort of dark secret, but that ends up being fairly ho-hum and we learn little more about him.

So, these fragmentary folks wandered from one scene to another, moving on to the next before we could grasp why they’d just done … whatever.

The projections by Anthony Churchill and Parker Molacek were absolutely superb, partnering with Sound Designer Forrest Gregor to create a totally immersive experience, particularly the storms… and the locusts gave us an idea of What’s Next for Chicago! Props designer Saskia Bakker maintained TimeLine’s tradition of authentic and exciting touches, and Scenic Designers Joe Schermoly and Catalina Niño gave us a wonderful set, rich in nooks, crannies and levels, though I disagreed with some of the ways Director Helen Young utilized them. And I was a bit squicked by all the animal corpses: first chickens (with several additional references to eggs); then coyotes … one species after another piled onstage.   

This could have been a fine show; the actors were excellent, the production first-rate.  The problems lay with the play itself. Dolores Díaz was overambitious, trying to deliver The Show with Everything. She’d have done better to choose two or three themes to drill down on. She delivered the disaster and tragedy bits, but we could have got those from reading The Grapes of Wrath. And Steinbeck recognized the convoluted interpersonal dynamics as key. In BLACK SUNDAY the characters got lost in Díaz trying to include politics, racism, poverty, agricultural mismanagement, a bit of labor history, psychosis, sexual psychoneuroses, domestic violence … that makes for a pretty full agenda! even without expounding on climate change, not trusting the audience to make that connection ourselves.

Director Helen Young could have mitigated these problems with some judicious scene-cutting and slowing the action from machine-gunfire to a speed that would allow us time for thought and reflection before the next sensational scene superimposed itself. It was also faulty direction that kept the characters from connecting and interacting emotionally.

TimeLine Theatre is relocating to a vintage building in Uptown where they can expand their mission. Current estimates place its opening in 2026. In the meantime, TimeLine Theatre will continue to offer productions at various kindred theatres about the North side.

BLACK SUNDAY plays through June 29th

TimeLine Theatre     611 W Wellington

TimeLine Theatre’s ‘The Chinese Lady’ is a powerful show - poignant, learned, sophisticated - and illuminating. Ninety minutes of engaging drama (no intermission) that left me somewhere between laughing, crying, and standing on my feet to cheer.

Directed by Helen Young from the script by Lloyd Suh (an award-winning playwright now in residence at New York’s New Dramatists) is based on the true story of Afong Moy (Mi Kang gives a stellar performance), brought to New York in 1834 as a living museum exhibit when she was just 14. For 25 cents a ticket, Afung Moy portrayed aspects of life in exotic China: eating a meal with chopsticks, walking in petite slippers covering her tiny bound feet, making tea, and speaking to the audience about life in her homeland. 

As the first Chinese woman to come to the U.S. and American public, we gather from Moy’s presentation that her contractors—New York merchants of Asian imports who are unseen in the play—hoped to inspire an appreciation of China’s culture and people. Her pparents contracted with the merchants for a two-year servitude at the museum. This stretched on for 55 years.

The exhibit space that forms the scenery (Arnell Scanciaco is scenic designer) is built in a Chinese style, and adorned with fine pottery and carvings (Rowen Doe handles properties) the type that merchants would likely have brought from her homeland. 

Afong Moy is assisted in her presentation by Atung (Glenn Obrero is equally excellent in this two-person show). Atung draws the curtain, serves the meal, and fluent in English and Chinese, translates and speaks for her. Over time she gains sufficient fluency to make Atung “superfluous” for speaking to the audience. Their stage personae and their personal relationship forms the structure for the play, and the playwright exploits this expertly.

Because Afong Moy is speaking directly to the ticket holders—that role played by the audience— the fourth wall of the stage is non-existent. We watch the arc of Afong Moy’s acclimation to her new home. When offstage, she lives with an American family and at first expresses disdain for their potatoes and corn, and eating with forks. "Chop sticks are elegant," she says.

We meet her again at age 16, and find Afong Moy is now enjoying American food, and longs to go to San Francisco. Scenes revisit her at various intervals, as she ages, and loses her Cantonese, she forgets what her parents looked like, and question who she is. Over time ticket prices escalate to $15. In adulthood she is invited to the White House by Andrew Jackson. We also see the sweep of history through her eyes: the Opium Wars that led to European domination by decimating Chin with drugs; the construction of the transcontinental railway during the Civil War by Chinese immigrants; and later the rise of anti-immigrant sentiment, and the passage of the Exclusionary Act which in 1882 banned Chinese immigration. 

Secondary themes—the relationship between Atung and Afong Moy in dual planes of unrequited love; Atung and Afong Moy’s growing awareness that they are largely without a life, wearing clothes not their own, speaking words that have been scripted—form existential reveries. They express too the horror of this decadent cultural colonialism. And yet, the indomitability of Afong Moy’s human spirit, her aspirations, are not extinguished. 

‘The Chinese Lady’ runs through June 18 at Theater Wit, 1229 W. Belmont in Chicago. It comes highly recommended.