Displaying items by tag: Terry Bell

When a play’s opening moment is mystifying and its closing moment is satisfying, the stuff in between must be doing its job. John Kolvenbach’s Love Song presents us with a young man in a spartan room, silently observing a lamp that seems to have a mind of its own. Love? Song? We have our doubts.

The back wall of the room slides open and reveals a high-rise apartment, sleekly decorated and offering a panoramic view of an unspecified city through a vast window. Enter a couple as sleek as their home, bickering with such intensity – not to mention hilarious verbal agility – that we continue to wonder if love and song will have anything to do with what’s happening onstage.

Indeed, it does. Remy Bumppo’s production, directed by the company’s Artistic Director Marti Lyons, revives a play that premiered at Steppenwolf 18 years ago. Though full of unanswered questions, Love Song proves worthy of another viewing. With equal parts sensitivity and tartness, Lyons and her cast tell the story of Beane (Terry Bell), who suffers from an autism-like condition and spends the play’s 85-minute length defying the expectations of his loved ones.

Actually, it’s just two loved ones: his sister Joan (Sarah Coakley Price), a demanding professional who is lost in a tirade about an incompetent intern; and her husband Harry (Ryan Hallahan), a fellow professional who challenges his wife’s firing of said intern for misdeeds such as crying “at noon!” and temporarily misplacing an important file.  

Witty as their banter may be, they are hard to like. When Beane visits his sister and brother-in-law, Harry subjects him to a questionnaire designed to provide psychological insight that mostly makes fun of his literal responses. Joan doesn’t do much to ease the situation.

Beane returns to his empty apartment, where he encounters an intruder by the name of Molly (Isa Arciniegas). She too launches into a tirade, though hers has a very different feel from Beane’s sister. Molly attacks architects and their curated minimalism, meanwhile deriding Beane for his lack of possessions for her to steal. A cup but no plate, a spoon but no fork. “What kind of criminal did you say you were?” he asks with the same literalness that aggravated Harry in the previous scene.

Molly’s brand of burglar remains unknown, but it sure excites Beane’s hormones. Off they go on a passionate adventure that leads Beane to talk so much that Harry now describes him as verbose. Beane’s liberation from his sister and brother-in-law’s (and probably society’s) expectations turns him into a different person altogether. And that jolts Joan and Harry from their calcified marriage into rediscovered sensuality.

Without really addressing the issues at hand, Love Song morphs from rapid fire wordplay into a lyrical romance. As staged by Lyons on a set designed by Joe Schermoly, the transitions from Beane’s lonely planet and Joan and Harry’s fraught high rise seem organic.

The cast, too, seems organic. Each of the actors onstage could have fallen into some sort of cliché – Joan as a career-driven ice princess; Harry as a wisecracking sidekick; Molly as a voracious loony; and most notably, Beane as a victim of the other three. But Coakley Price, Hallahan, Arciniegas and Bell all take charge of their characters and allow us to enjoy their transformations.

Love Song, produced by Remy Bumppo Theatre Company, is playing now through April 21 at Theater Wit. Tickets can be purchased through Theatre Wit’s website.

Having been close with many people with disabilities over the course of my life, I’m often hesitant when it comes to media about such individuals. Too often, books or films or plays dealing with disabilities end up being either demeaning to the folks who have them or cloying and saccharine to the audience. Earlier in this young millennium, I was thrilled to find and read Mark Haddon’s novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a rare tale that falls into neither of these traps. Haddon’s novel became a favorite of mine, its important-sounding title (taken from a line in a Sherlock Holmes story) hinting at the very big steps taken by its protagonist and narrator, a British teen afflicted with autism. And now I can say that the Steppenwolf Theatre’s current stage production based on the novel has become one of the best shows I’ve seen — this year or any other, in Chicago or elsewhere.

In the role of Christopher, said protagonist, is Terry Bell in his first Steppenwolf production. The key to Bell inhabiting the role of Christopher isn’t that he makes the boy’s Britishness real any more than that he realistically portrays autism. No, Bell’s performance is stunning in that he makes Christopher human. While tics and traits are given to the lad, it’s the vulnerability, intellect, and emotion that Bell gives Christopher that made him so real, so human. This was an actual person I saw up there, not a type or a trope or a character. Whether Christopher is doing math, navigating London, fighting with his father, or reading long-lost letters, he is a real boy, not just someone up on a stage.

The rest of the Steppenwolf cast take their duty of realism just as seriously. Cedric Mays plays Christopher’s father as a loving but over-extended parent doing his best to raise his boy. Rebecca Spence, as Christopher’s mother, is heartbreaking as the broken woman who finally felt she couldn’t.

One of my biggest concerns coming into the play was how the first-person narration of the novel would translate to the stage. Would the audience be submitted to one character’s constant exposition? How would Christopher’s story work? Well, thanks to the shining performance of Caroline Neff as Siobhan, Christopher’s schoolteacher, I needn’t have worried. Neff acts as narrator for much of the play, while also acting the part of a nurturing and knowledgeable caregiver for Christopher. If only all children, regardless of their disabilities or lack thereof, could have as loving and caring a teacher as the one Neff has created.

And, as the production has been tailored not just to standard audiences, but to those who share Christopher’s disabilities (and abilities!), with information on the novel and play’s background provided, with discussions led by the cast, and even with accommodating and accessible performances for anyone to enjoy, I can tell you that not only is this a caring play onstage, but beyond the stage, as well.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is being performed at Steppenwolf Theatre through October 27th. For more information, please visit www.steppenwolf.org.