Displaying items by tag: Chris Sylvie

SUNSETS: TWO ACTS ON A BEACH is a long-lost diamond by unsung genius Cal Yeomans. Yeomans, despite his myriad talents (playwright, poet, actor, artist, educator, lecturer, photographer, real estate investor, land developer, and philanthropist) was an unfortunate example of the prophet in his own land: only posthumously are his masterful contributions recognized as vital to the post-Stonewall / pre-AIDS gay theatre genre. Maybe he was a visionary; before his work as well as his life were extinguished in 2001 by AIDS he is quoted as saying: "Perhaps in years to come some young queen will find [my writings] in an old trunk bought at an auction, will read [them] and say, 'My God! Was that the way it was? Times sure have changed.' Let us pray for that anyway".

Happily, for us, Director David Zak is not an unsung genius; over three decades of work in Chicago theatre he’s amassed a mantel-full of Jeff Awards, including a special Jeff for “Fostering Diversity in Chicago Theatre”. If you’ve read my reviews, you’ll know that counts for a lot with me!  He served as Artistic Director at Bailiwick Repertory for yonks and, with co-Director Elayne LeTraunik, has taken Open Space Arts under his creative wing. OSA’s mission is to ‘foster inclusivity, promote understanding, and empower marginalized communities’ through various artistic mediums [media? – whatever].

Open Space Arts Theatre is an exemplar of the tiny storefront theatres I adore: on Wilson just east of Clark in, yes, a storefront, OSAT can seat maybe 40, if some people sit on the stairs. Director Zak was at the door to greet patrons, Lighting Designer Justin Walker offered his arm to make sure I didn’t come to grief on the stairs; and there I was, where I love best to watch theatre: immersed in the cast’s pheromone cloud.

Rick Paul gave us a perfect set, keeping it minimalist with creative multi-tasking – the table did service as a couch, a beach, a bed – and even a table!  And I loved Zach Stinnet’s playlists, recalling Donna Summers’ era dance tunes.

Costume Designer Zahrah Agha did a superb job with drag queen persona Henrietta’s gowns & etcetera, but I’m afraid I have a bone to pick with both Agha and Intimacy Designer Greta Zandstra: the press release promised nudity, but they kept their damned dance belts on – drat! and similar ejaculations!

The play is exactly what its title betokens:  two acts, on a beach, at sunset. Act One has a cast of one – John Cardone as Henry. His monologue was superb, with reminiscences ranging from droll to somber, sultry to sassy, superficial to analytical. Henry spoke several times of Him, trying to make light of but unable to conceal his anguish as he describes His defection for a younger, cuter model.

Henry was once Henrietta, a high-end drag act; now he’s “living with my mom … and that’s alright, really!” but we can’t help fearing the lady doth protest just a smidgen too much. Any road, it’s here at the beach that Henry has discovered his calling, a very special ministry. I won’t describe his precise methods, but he plies them here on the beach … or, more precisely, in the beach men’s room. As he follows the latest supplicant through the door marked MEN he delivers his final line, the title of the Act One: “The Line Forms to the Rear”.

There’s no intermission – both acts together are just over an hour – and we move right on to John (Chris Sylvie). Like Henry, John comes pretty regularly to this beach, usually at about sunset. We assume that John, like Henry, has undergone something of a reversal of fortune; from The Big City (“No, not Miami!” he tells Dan) to this small Florida town … but here he has the beach, and it’s here he meets Dan (Aaron Cappello).

Dan is Everyman and is doing pretty well for himself – nice construction job, nice wife, two nice kids – but apparently there’s something missing, cos it sure doesn’t take long for John and Dan to progress from badinage to BJ … after which Dan abruptly leaves and John’s sitting alone again on the beach months later; he’s almost given up on Dan when suddenly there he is again!

Their accidental meetings cum trysts become increasingly intimate but continue to end with Dan’s precipitous withdrawal (no, through the door … yeah). As their encounters become more and more visceral our concern grows: what will happen to John if Dan totally freaks out …?  But [spoiler!] Act Two also has a happy ending, with Dan and John serenaded by chanteuse Henrietta (John Cardone again, in full kit) singing The Man I Love.

It’s very difficult to describe this brief but compelling production without spoilers – I’m starting them already! – so you’re just going to have to trust me: see SUNSET: TWO ACTS ON A BEACH. Really. See it. You will so not be sorry.

*Extended through Sunday, March 3rd

You know what they say: The only cure for homosexuality is to issue him a Screen Actor’s Guild card.

Tommy on Top takes this old saw a step further: Tommy Miller (Ryan Cason), closeted Hollywood hunk, has been nominated for an Oscar. Super-swish boyfriend George (Patrick Gosney) and vodka-swigging sister Molly (Theresa Liebhart) join Tommy to discuss the eternal question – in or out? – with an Academy Award and a career hanging in the balance. Gay Trump-loving [huh?] agent Eddie (Chris Sylvie) is adamantly in favor of the closet – a good thing, as he spends a great deal of the show stuffed into one. Why? Well, it seems evil columnist Kiki (Blythe Inanna) wants to out Tommy with some compromising photos, and celebrity talent manager Judy Jensen (Beth Johnson) wants to be Tommy’s new agent … over Eddie’s dead body! Almost.

That’s pretty much the story in a nutshell (which is arguably where it belongs).

Written by British playwright Chris Woodley, Tommy on Top was a hit in London, and is now premiering in the US at the PrideArts Center Theatre.  The British provenance is very apparent and, unfortunately, a problem with the production.

I’ve never been a fan of British humor: it simply makes too much of too little. A quip that originally is droll (e.,g. ‘every sperm is sacred’) is belabored until it’s just boring. The humor in Tommy is simply not funny. I do not find any humor in drunkenness, a theme that repeats throughout the show. I’m not amused by violence, and the gunplay is completely tasteless (though the juxtaposition with the Highland Park massacre could not have been predicted). I don’t laugh at defenestration (isn’t that a great word?!), and the anti-Irish theme may be funny across the Pond, but in Chicago it’s baffling. And a Trump-loving gay Hollywood agent? Maybe in London, not so much here.

The cast do an extraordinary job. Patrick Gosney sparkles as George; and Ryan Cason is as adorably hunky as a Hollywood leading man should be. Director Jay Espano does a great job knitting all the actors’ excellent work together, and kudos to Garrett McCann and Jack McElroy for intimacy and fight choreography. A special shoutout to Chris Sylvie, who stepped in at the last minute as Eddie. And Tommy’s final monologue is lovely, revealing the show’s heart at last. Too bad we had to sit through 90 minutes to get to it. Comedy is a fine instrument for social commentary. The problem is that this script isn’t very funny.

BUT WAIT: as I said, I’m not a fan of British humor, and farce is not my favorite genre. If, however, you happen to like preposterous premises, cumbersome one-liners, outrageous over-acting and senseless physical brawling, Tommy on Top is for you. If you still giggle at the 3 Stooges, this show will make you LOL.