Displaying items by tag: Charles Askenaizer

Do not see THE CRUCIBLE to unwind after a hard week. Do not take a blind date to THE CRUCIBLE. If you couldn’t get tickets to Second City, do not attend THE CRUCIBLE as a backup. But in any other circumstances whatsoever, DO see THE CRUCIBLE at Invictus Theatre.

Even if you didn’t read it in school you’ve probably heard the story: Arthur Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953 about the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93 in protest against McCarthyism. It still holds relevance today: the struggle to maintain critical thought processes in response to inflammatory public hyperbole … oh, yeah. Been there, done that.

Even simply reading the play is disquieting; brought to life on the stage THE CRUCIBLE is gut-wrenching, especially when well-played. And at Invictus it is well-played indeed. To echo the Buzz Center Stage review of a recent production: ‘I have to keep reminding myself this is a storefront theatre.”

I adore Chicago’s tiny storefront theatres; seeing the play while sharing the cast’s pheromone cloud greatly enhances the experience for me. Invictus is among the tiniest, with only 50-odd seats. I was in the front row and nearly had an actor catapulted into my lap at least twice. Mounting THE CRUCIBLE on such a miniscule stage is courageous, to say the least, and for anyone else it would be foolhardy. For Invictus it’s just the latest instance of achieving the inconceivable and doing it brilliantly.

Credit must begin with Charles Askenaizer, Artistic Director of Invictus and Director of THE CRUCIBLE. It would be easy for the frenzied activity to degenerate into a general brouhaha, but Askenaizer keeps the action crisp and focused, allowing the primary actors to perform without dissolving into the fracas.

Of course, he had the finest materials to work with: the cast was outstanding, every one, from the leads to understudy Steve Connell stepping in as Francis Nurse.  Managing a cast of nineteen certainly demands assistance, ably provided by Assistant Director Donica Lynn, Production Manager Todd Henry Faulstich and Stage Manager Gabby Rooney. And Amber Wutke certainly had plenty to do as Fight/Intimacy Designer & Movement Choreographer!

L-R: Michaela Voit (Abigal Williams), Frank Nall (Giles Corey), Joseph Beal (Reverend Parris), Lea Grace Biwer (Betty Parris), Charlie Diaz (Reverend Hale), Mike Cherry (Thomas Putnam), Laura Coleman (Ann Putnam), Barbara Roeder Harris (Rebecca Nurse). Photo credit: Through Line Studios.

Costume Designer/Wardrobe Manager Jessie Gowens did a superb job, adding intriguing (and no doubt authentic) details onto the severe Puritan garb. I was fascinated by the wide quilted sleeves and the double rank of buttons on Deputy Governor Danforth’s coat. 

One of Scenic Designer Kevin Rolfs’ brilliant adaptations to the limited space backstage was to keep most of the cast on the stage throughout, only retiring to opposite rows of hard straight-backed chairs when leaving a scene. From there they could serve as a modified Greek chorus: singing, hollering and finger-pointing to remind us that this lunacy infects the entire town. 

Props Designer Sam Paulson, Sound Designer Petter Wahlback, Lighting Designer Chad Lussier and Box Office Manager Steve Nordmark round out a truly extraordinary team creating a truly phenomenal production. Bravo!

As noted, the cast was massive and though each individual played their part irreproachably I can only comment specifically on a few, whom I’ll introduce by telling the story.

We begin in the woods with a circle of young women being led in a primitive, frenzied dance by Caribbean slavewoman Tituba  (LaTorious R Givens). Tituba furtively slips a mysterious drink to Betty Parris (Lea Grace Biwer), who begins to rave and convulse until collapsing into a coma. The screams of the frightened girls attract her father The Reverend Parris (Joseph Beal), a preacher who is far more ambitious than spiritual; he is both panicked and outraged by the spectacle. The girls, fearing the Pastor, turn on Tituba, saying she cast a spell on the girl.

The pusillanimous rector is horrified to learn the story has spread like wildfire through the entire town, with a widespread conviction that Lucifer is afoot. Parris, unnerved by these slights to his (illusory) good name, summons witchcraft expert Reverend John Hale (Charlie Diaz), who insists to the end that nonesuch is operating in Salem.

Mark Pracht is amazing as John Proctor, the local farmer who manages to maintain his integrity. Proctor is a decent, though flawed, man who sincerely loves both his wife and his God but evades hypocrisy by seldom attending Parris’ church. Pracht reveals Proctor as intelligent and insightful enough to differentiate God from religion and to penetrate the disguise of ordainment, seeing the clergy – Parris in particular – for what they truly are. His loyal friend and fellow skeptic Giles Corey is brought vividly to life by Frank Nall.

Devon Carson plays Proctor’s wife Elizabeth so skillfully that we understand and sympathize with the subtle currents of her mind and her heart. She loves her husband dearly, but can’t resist using that love to torment him – as wives of that time, lacking other dominion, were wont to do. Carson gives us a full view of Elizabeth’s development and maturation over time. Excellent acting and superb direction let us literally see the moment when Tituba recognizes ‘I have power here, I can take control’, and deflects the accusations onto Abigail Williams (Michaela Voit). Likewise, we can clearly see Mary choosing the opposite course and deciding to take the blame on herself rather than give Mary up to the inquisitors.

 As we would say today, the recriminations, allegations, insinuations and accusations go viral and the whisper network renders them ever more specious and malicious. I ultimately lost track of who was accusing whom of what, and I suspect the characters did as well. The arrest of honest Goody [‘Goodwife’] Nurse, played by Barbara Roeder Harris, makes clear the situation has descended from outrageous to grotesque.

Into this bedlam struts Deputy Governor Danforth. Danforth is a self-righteous bastard, in love with his own limitless sovereignty and equating it to that of God himself. What Deputy Governor Danforth says, is. I purely loved James Turano in this role! which he plays with both vivacity and subtlety. Clearly Governor Danforth relishes the opportunity to flaunt his distinction: a prestigious trial with copious defendants to browbeat and countless openings for thundering, Scripture-laden speechification – what’s not to love? And Turano himself is clearly having a ball with the role. I had a word with him after the show where he confirmed, “it’s always fun being the villain.” 

So … this is pretty much it for my review, but if you’ll hang in with me I’d like to take a moment to wax philosophic on THE CRUCIBLE and what makes it a classic. Start with the title: a crucible is a vessel in a refining fire where precious substances are tested, purified, and strengthened. And indeed the trial demonstrated how our legal system has been strengthened by erecting safeguards: spouses need not testify against each other; the defendant is protected from self-incrimination [‘the Fifth’]; each litigant is represented by an advocate; hearsay is not admissible as evidence. Our system still clings, however, to the final decision on clemency resting with the governor rather than the judge. Deputy Governor Danforth shows us just how precarious this may be.

Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953, in the midst of the McCarthy hearings and just eight years after the fall of the Nazi party, so peoples’ responses to an evil situation was a natural theme. Most discussions of THE CRUCIBLE assume the evil situation is the trials themselves, forgetting that Massachusetts was also in the midst of the terrifying French and Indian Wars. The Rev. George Burroughs writes of the Candlemas Massacres, ‘God is still manifesting his displeasure against this Land’; a sentiment with clear impact on the Salem Witch Trials. One wonders why Miller, himself traumatized by war and a harrowing political atmosphere, did not more fully examine the settlers’ traumas.

Debate continues over just what happened to the young girls in Salem, historically as well as in fiction. ‘Faking it’ is just too simplistic. Some have suggested ergot poisoning –  hallucinogenic mold in the bread – but then why only those particular girls?

Another, more plausible theory is a psychogenic disorder called mass conversion, in which anxiety, whatever its cause, is so extreme that they unconsciously convert their mental anguish to physical symptoms. The Salem populace was living under the strain of both a hideous and bloody war and, more to the point, the omnipresent threat of witchcraft; with equally dire risks of accusation and of being a target: “She killed my babies!” wails a townswoman. In mass conversion disorder, long-term stress converts messages from the brain to the muscles, expressing anxiety as twitching, shaking, garbled speech, and trance states.

This link to trauma is not demonstrated in Miller’s play. In the 1950s psychiatry was not well understood, particularly by the general public; the diagnosis of conversion disorder had not yet been described. Miller himself was also probably experiencing his own anxiety symptoms from the chronic stressors of WWI, the economic collapse following it, and the persecutory atmosphere generated by McCarthyism. He may have sought to relieve his anxiety symptoms by creating THE CRUCIBLE – as artists are wont to do.

Thanks for hanging in with me in my digression, but let me not forget the paramount message: THE CRUCIBLE IS VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! Should you miss this production (playing through June 11 at Reginald Vaughn Theatre 1106 W Thorndale Ave in Chicago), first kick yourself, then remember that Invictus is a safe bet for quality theatre, whatever is playing.

From the Director’s Note:

I couldn’t help thinking of Pastor Martin Niemoller’s quote from his reflections on the Holocaust:

First they came for the socialists, but I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.

One by one, the town is ‘purified of witches’ until cows wander aimlessly along the roads and untended crops rot in the fields. Soon there is no one left to speak out about the injustices or take the time to rationally think about the accusations made. Soon all that is left are empty chairs and silence.

Before entering Invictus Theatre's storefront on Thorndale Avenue, you are asked for your vaccination card. But they may just as well have asked for your passport.

Once you pass through the curtains on your way to your seat, you know quickly “something is rotten in the state of Denmark." There’s a feeling of death—and grief—in the air. Kevin Rolfs’ bare, blood-red set consists of a single paneled wall. That, coupled with Chad Lussier's atmospheric soundscape, and the stark lighting, evokes a sense of dread. And within a brief three hours, this will indeed be the scene of a slaughterhouse.

Hamlet, considered by many to be Shakespeare’s best play, starts with a young man, Hamlet (Charles Askenaiser), being told by the ghost of his father that he was murdered. The ghost then demands Hamlet seek vengeance on his murderer.

Making things interesting is the fact that the murdered man was King of Demark. The murderer is the king’s brother, Claudius (Jospeh Beal) who two months after the crime married the king’s widow (Hamlet’s mother), and is now the reigning king—Hamlet's uncle-slash-step daddy. Still with me?

It’s enough to drive the heir to the throne mad, and as Hamlet goes about his task of vengeance, he causes collateral damage that suggests he just might indeed be mad. The mood swings of Hamlet are demanding. His emotional highs are quirky; his lows are disturbingly maudlin. Charles Askenaizer, as Hamlet, makes the most of every moment. I found myself looking into his eyes hoping for a clue as to his mental state.

Askenaizer, who also directed, sped up the pace of this Hamlet, and it works for the most part. While still clocking in at a little over three hours, fear not: the time flies by.

The supporting cast is strong and worked well as an ensemble. Barry Irving is a sincere Horatio. Joseph Beal as Claudius became ever more dastardly as the play progressed.

A special nod must go to the intimacy coach, Glenn Thompson. His orchestration of the scuffle between Hamlet and his mother Gertrude (Diane Sintich) must be seen. It looked as though she were giving birth all over again, only this time to a monster. 

There was something sweet in the chemistry between Laertes (Michael Lewis, excellent recently in “A Raisin In The Sun) and Ophelia (Ebby Offord). Certain scenes stood out for me and this was one of them. This begins their character arc and we are fully invested in them, though Lewis should take care not to let the background music overtake his melodic voice. And Offord if this is your debut, you have a bright future.

Darren Jones’ plays Polonius as an oily, pompous, hypocrite. That he would be the first to die by Hamlet’s hand is no wonder. A lot of comedy is lost because of the speed of delivery of Polonius’s lines. Another of my favorites scenes was Rosencrantz (Jack Morsovillo) and Guildenstern (Andrea Uppling) being questioned by Hamlet. Comedic timing by the three characters worked perfectly. Other excellent performances were offered by Robert Koon, Chuck Munro, Keenan Odenkirk and Maria Clara Ospina.

Isaac Jay Pineda's costumes were reminiscent of 1980's businessmen and women. The military characters wore fatigues with the Danish flag. Upon Laertes' return from France, you could tell he had done some shopping. Nice work! 

This excellent production of Hamlet by Invictus Theatre demonstrates yet again why Chicago storefront theatre is known throughout the country.

Hamlet at Invictus Theatre runs October 21 – November 21, 2021
Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays 7:30 p.m., Sundays 3:00 p.m.
1106 W. Thorndale Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60660