An unusually busy run for me - four plays in four days - ended last night with the opening of Arcadia, Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s production of what is said to be one of British author Tom Stoppard’s finest plays.

Running at the Greenhouse Theatre, it is certainly the best I have seen this season. 

Stoppard is immensely funny, but can also be intensely challenging, as his fast-paced play of humor and ideas teases the brain while tickling the funny bone. Kudo’s to director Ted Hoerl for taking on this dauntingly complicated show, and mastering it. As with Oscar Wilde, Stoppard uses laughter to disarm our defenses, so that the ideas can move in - exactly what happens at the Greenhouse.  

In this play, Stoppard is said to be making a heady investigation of determinism, science, and the relationship between the laws of nature, and love. The Royal Institution of Great Britain named Arcadia one of the best science-related works ever written, a kind of Big Bang Theory but more serious. One of the main characters in Arcadia, Thomasina (very well played by Meghann Tabor) is based on a real-life 19th Century math prodigy, Ada Lovelace (she was also poet Lord Byron’s daughter) who conceptualized applications for Charles Babbage’s binary computer prototype. Byron also figures in this play, though as an offstage character. 

Stoppard is so very good with language, the show sparkles, especially in the hands of Megan DeLay who is absolutely outstanding as Lady Croom. Kudos also to Chris Woolsey in the role of Septimus Hodge.

Stoppard tests form, pushing the bounds of the stage, using your mind as an extension of the set. Overall, Arcadia is a cross between high comedy, a comedy of manners and a farce. And while its seven scenes all take place in the estate, Sidley Park, in Derbyshire, England, three are set between 1809-1812, alternating with three others set in the present.

Separate casts play each period, and by the seventh, and closing, scene, which takes place both in past and present (with everyone on stage), the audience is fully conditioned to Stoppard’s world and able to follow along. If all that sounds complicated, it’s actually easy to track, especially with the wonderful performances by this amazingly accomplished cast.

The play opens in 1809. Lady Croom’s 13-year-old daughter Thomasina, a mathematical genius, is pestering her tutor, Septimus Hodge, to explain the term “carnal embrace.” She overheard those words from the landscaper Noakes (Nicole Hand) who had seen a tryst in the garden house between the wife of resident poet, Ezra Chater, and another gentleman. We learn soon enough it was Hodge, and he takes inordinate interest in coaxing details from Thomasina while simultaneously try to distract her into finding solutions to Fermat’s Last Theorem.

While the play is much to involved to describe in full, suffice it to say that present day scenes track academic researchers studying Ezra Chater, Lord Byron, and the history of the estate grounds – serving us a send-up of contemporary academia.

A host of colorful characters are delightfully played - Michael Reyes shines as Chater, Heather Kae Smith is wonderful as Chloe, Brian Hurst is a glowering hoot as the Croom's gossipy butler Jellaby - casts from both time periods keep the laughs coming. Arcadia affirms once again “the play’s the thing,” but so is an excellent company. Arcadia is highly recommended, and runs through December 16 at the Green House Theater Center in Chicago.

Plainclothes has all the hallmarks of a dynamic show – a parade of interesting and believable characters, fast-paced and witty dialog, even a socially meaningful storyline, and great performances by the cast.

Premiering at The Den Theatre and written by Spenser Davis, who also co-directs (with Kanomé Jones) Plainclothes tells the story of the security guards who are charged with stopping shoplifting at a Michigan Avenue store that sounds very much like Macy’s. While the retail areas of the store are elegant and packed with luxury goods, the security detail is squeezed into less-than-savory quarters hidden away from public view.

A retinue of shoplifting types parades across the stage as we gaze on in curiosity. Some truly need or  want the goods, others are habitual offenders, and then there are the dilettantes, more in it for the game than the ill-gotten gains. One recurring offender is the effeminate Jomal (Ben F. Locke), in short shorts and bare midriff, who has been banned from the store. Another is Pete (David Weiss) who is also famous as a YouTube personality.

But the biggest focus is on this plain clothes loss-prevention crew, who prowl the aisles on the lookout for theft by customers, or even by the store staff  - individuals tracked down by “Internal” store detectives.

Cashiers such as Mary (RjW Mays) and other staffers who turn in shoplifters are also given bonuses. We learn that race, gender and age of perpetrators is recorded in statistical reports, a matter that is material to the retailer's consumer relations, and to the plot.

The crew is multi-culturally diverse, which also figures in the plot: Llermo (Alejandro Tey), is a warm, funny young Latino, with an eye for ladies; T (Stephanie Shum), a hot-blooded lesbian Asian also with an eye for the ladies; Alma (Teresa Kuruvilea), a South Asian security officer; Stevie (Kim Boler), an aspiring white police cadet; Bobby (Adam Soule) a young white bro who is on the rise; and Karina (Carmen Molina), a mixed-race guard who keeps watch on the video camera feeds from around the store.

The dialog of the team is fast-paced and laced with the shorthand that those immersed in loss prevention security would know – though occasionally it goes over the head of the audience. It’s also loaded with contemporary dish ("Unfriended, deleted, blocked!") and goofy rankings (Michael Buble versus Brittney Spears). 

We are also faced with unique aspect of a contemporary social issue: this diverse “loss prevention” team is accused of catching too few mature white shoplifters and too many young black teens. The crew objects to the charge, grumbling that their varied ethnicities should protect them from charges of prejudice. “I’m getting profiled; I don’t do the profiling,” objects Llermo. “We get fired; white guys get transferred,” laments Karina.  

Nevertheless, they determine to try for those harder to nab but more prized thieves. Things go awry when rookie Stevie gets knifed by a thief, and the plot becomes complicated – and frankly, it gets somewhat lost in its own details.

Davis has based the play on his own experiences working in the very job the play describes, and it tells. The lingo and setting are convincing, with perpetrators handcuffed to a bench while they either pay fines or await the police. The situations conjured up are spot on, as well. And the tribulations of the workplace resonate with everyone who has been paid for productivity – which in this case means catching more thieves before they get out the door.

Davis says he wants Plainclothes to follow the pattern of Broken Nose Theatre’s production of At The Table last year, which was developed, workshopped, and then produced in New York before moving on to Chicago.

Plainclothes offers plenty of potential but the for such development, but will need some more refinement. There are dozens of memorable lines but some, while entertaining, distract from the advance of the action. There are probably a couple characters too many in the show. And the byzantine array of details and events makes it a little difficult to distinguish the high points in the turns of the plot.

The performances are very good, with Alejandro Tey, Ben F. Locke, and Carmen Molina real standouts. Even stronger are Rob Frankel as Jim, the older white guy from management. Frankel is a seasoned performer, and it shows. And RjW Mays is kind of a scene stealer, amping up her smaller role to something delightful. Shum is full throttle in her delivery, and maybe should vary the volume a bit. 

Plainclothes definitely has legs as a theatrical work, and hopefully it will get some refinements if the producers choose a next iteration. Regardless, this is still a fun show, and with tickets at Broken Nose’s “pay-what-you-can” scale, Plainclothes is well worth a look at The Den Theatre, running through December 15.

It’s an intriguing proposition for a play: two actors meet for the first time on stage. One, the First Actor,  has rehearsed the play, while the Second Actor has never even read it.

In An Oak Tree, this dynamic repeats for each day’s performance – 22 in all by the time it ends its run on December 9 - with a freshly cast Second Actor encountering anew the script, the audience, and the actor he plays against.

Written by Tim Crouch, An Oak Tree is also a daring exercise in dramatic abstraction, and a multi-layered exploration of meta-theatrical performance.

The storyline gives a suggestion of how An Oak Tree plays out. The First Actor is a stage hypnotist (played by Gage Wallace with tremendous precision and verve), putting on shows that incorporate audience participation - giving us the first of those meta layers, a “show within the show.”

The dramatic tension rises as we learn that First Actor’s little girl has been killed in a car accident, and that Second Actor is the responsible party. Calling for volunteers from the audience (but it’s another layer, an imaginary audience - we live patrons were warned at the outset not to volunteer), the First Actor sees among the audience volunteers the very driver (the Second Actor) who killed the little girl.

First Actor’s grief and anger rise. He hypnotizes Second Actor and puts him through a series of demeaning exercises, including an admission of guilt for the act. The eight other volunteers (none are visible, of course) are dismissed, so that only Second Actor and First Actor remain.

The dynamics become ugly between First Actor and the hypnotized Second Actor, who slips in and out of awareness in this scene, and there is increasing discomfit between the two characters. We feel the discomfort as well, and witness a shift in power between the characters as the scene progresses.

So how does a non-scripted character perform his or her role (both men and women are cast as Second Actor, including Alejandro Tey the night I saw the show). Actors are freewheeling spirits, generally – but they do like to rehearse the script, and to be prepared before they enter the stage. An Oak Tree has elements of improvisational performance and sight-reading of lines. These 22 venturesome Second Actors – Alejandro Tey showed his quick wit and deft dramatic skills - have willingly subjected themselves to the trial devised by Crouch's play.

As to practicalities of producing the show, Crouch and director Jeremy Aluma allow First Actor to brief the real live audience on some background, and their role, as the show commences. When Second Actor is introduced, he or she is given two or three pages of dialog to read from directly, at various points. And Second Actor also wears an audio device to receive whispered verbal cues from First Actor, who at other times offers those cues and prompts aloud, or whispers them into the ear of Second Actor.

This one-hour show by Red Theater is provocative and intriguing, even mind-bending for avid theater goers. It will have you thinking about it for days afterward. An Oak Tree is at Chicago's Athenaeum Theatre through December 9. 

Blue Man Group premiered the newest version of its show Thursday night at Briar Street Theater, where it has been ensconced since 1997 – making it the longest running act in Chicago. 

Wearing shiny blue face paint, skull masks covering hair and ears, and blue rubber gloves, the Blue Men are clad in non-descript black sweat suits and soft leather boots, giving the individual performers a generic look - though the program gives bios of seven Blue Men whose background trends toward percussionists. The Blue Men move with reptilian precision, navigating the stage, and inspecting each other and audience members in an inherently hilarious manner.

The updated 90-minute program, which is described as "new moments" in this latest iteration (developed by director Michael Dahlen and creative director Jeff Turlik) is a series of sketches that includes some now legendary vignettes, a bit of it inspired by that adolescent humor in which bored frat boys might engage on Saturday morning.

But Blue Man Group is also transgressive, breaking the  bounds of propriety and expectations – a steady series of small shocks that is provocative and creative. The vibrant additions to the show give audiences a whole new reason to attend the Blue Man Group - even if they have seen it before. 

In a reprise of greatest hits the Blue Men chomp and spit out Cap’n Crunch (ewwww!); unerringly catch by mouth marshmallows (and paint balls) hurled 30 feet across the stage; and pound paint-laden drums, splashing the audience – the first five rows of which wears protective ponchos.

One fixture of the shows is a large screen projection of a video cam that follows embarrassed latecomers to their seats. Another pins an audience member against a large canvass and Blue Men shoot paint at them from super soakers. Volunteers for this and several other scenes are selected silently by the blue performers, and frankly no one resists. The troupe marches across the top of the audience's seats, picks through shopping bags and incorporates the ticket holders into the act. 

Another  recurring feature is the selection of quirky hand-built musical instruments whose components could have been sourced from Home Depot’s plumbing aisle and a bike mechanic’s benchtop. From PVC pipe and other elements, the group has long created such devices, one of which is a cross between a drum and a trombone – sounding like a digiroo. Newly constructed and remastered instruments include the Light Horns and the Trigger Vibes. Original music compositions in this updated Chicago production include the theatrical debut of “Vortex,” a piece from Blue Man Group’s latest studio album “THREE.”

For its latest show, the Trigger Vibes percussion instrument has grown to the size of a pipe organ, and is beaten with paddles, generating loud xylophonic sounds. Another addition is a stringed instrument, the Spinulum, that looks like a tall vertical slide guitar crossed with a bicycle drive train. Though the Blue Men are always silent, the instruments are not, and a back-up band behind a screen in a loft above the stage is even louder – unfortunately at times overshadowing the Blue Men’s acoustical efforts.

Awareness of this trio of blue-masked men is high, with more than one million tickets sold to their shows in Chicago, which combine drumming, mime, music, original digital video, and in the latest version an even higher degree of audience participation. The performers were historically largely anonymous, and are likely interchangeable among the major cities in which Blue Man Group claims residence: Berlin, New York, Orlando, Boston, Las Vegas. I’ve seen them in three cities for a total of seven shows over the years.  

That’s more than I’ve seen of a similar stage syndication, Cirque de Soleil, which acquired Blue Man Group from its founders in July 2017.  Like Cirque, Blue Man Group is also a marketing phenomenon, performing private shows and at conventions, and releasing albums. YouTube videos of their NPR Tiny Desk appearance will give you a feel for the music. A clip of Blue Man Group’s Meditation for Winners (not performed in this show, unfortunately) is both hilarious and a trenchant social commentary.

Though the Blue Men are genericized in dress, Scott Bishop, Tom Galassi, Eric Gebow, Callum Grant, Gareth Hinsley, Michael Angelo Smith and Brian Tavener are credited in the program (three perform in each show). 

In fact, Blue Man Group is not just silly, but through the years has maintained implicit social commentary in its shows about the perils of surrendering our humanity to technology. The audience must swear a pledge to disconnect from its phones during the show, and one very powerful sketch finds three individuals wearing a digital Find Friends apparatus, which leads them on a wild goose chase (complete with a Wayze- or Google-like GMS misdirection) to find friends – who were actually standing right next to them to begin with. The strength of this single vignette is enough to merit a ticket to the new show.

Bringing out a new show is certainly a bit unnerving for the creative team behind Blue Man Group, given its origins as a just-for-fun street performance art team in New York City. It was formalized in 1991 by founders Chris Wink, Phil Stanton, and Matt Goldman. And like successful rock starts, the Blue Men must balance the demands of a growing roster of greatest hits, with a need to refresh the show, stay current, and be true to their own creative leadings. Packing the hits up front gave them just a whiff of being obligatory, while the new stuff seemed a bit squeezed in the remainder of the program. Nevertheless, having seen Blue Man Group multiple times, I still laughed spontaneously throughout. This show is highly recommended – catch it at at the Briar Street Theater. 

Refuge Theatre Project likes to pick up what it calls under-appreciated musicals and put them on in non-traditional settings.

They hit that mark with The Last Session, an off-off-Broadway musical from 1997 that ran for about 20 weeks off-Broadway. Set in a 1990s Los Angeles recording studio, this production takes place in a real-life commercial music recording studio, Atlas Arts Studio at 4809 N. Ravenswood – giving complete realism to the setting and excellent sound quality for the performances.

Directed by Christopher Pazdernik, The Last Session tells the story of Gideon, a 1990s songwriter, who is tiring in his battle against AIDS. (In the early years of the epidemic, the treatments for the disease were much more intrusive than today’s refined drugs, with brutal after-effects like those associated with powerful cancer chemotherapies.)

Gideon’s medical weariness has led him to a decision to end his life – but he wants to do it after recording one last album. This concept album-in-the-making is to capture Gideon's life journey, from son of a Texas preacher, to married religious musician (the "Baptist Barry Manilow"), then to a man living in an openly gay relationship and penning pop-music hits. It also will capture his battle with AIDS. 

The Last Session is largely autobiographical, with music and lyrics by Steve Schalchlin – the real life Gideon - with book by Jim Brochu, his lover. Brochu encouraged Schalchlin (who was, like Gideon, suffering with AIDS) to channel his angst into a creative work. Thus, The Last Session stage musical. 

It's a workable dramatic piece, with interesting characters (all of them in the music business) and motivations for the encounters on stage – though the plot is contrived, e.g., no one knows it’s his last session - they only know that they must sing in a cold read from the sheet music, and each take is to be the final track recording.

As the play opens, we meet two back-up singers for this session who are also sworn enemies: Schalchlin’s ex-wife Vicki (a zestful performance a tad overplayed by Elizabeth Bollar); and a dishing-but-wise diva, Tryshia (Darilyn Butler’s excellent performance is on another plane from the show). And then there is Buddy (Ryan Armstrong is surely Broadway bound), a fundamentalist fan-boy musician who has tracked Gideon down, hoping to apprentice to him. Jim gets hired for The Last Session recording too, discovering to his horror that his Christian idol has veered from the path of righteousness, to put it mildly.

Putting in a striking performance as the star, Gideon, is Erik Pearson – who plays and sings affectingly and with deep conviction - performing pretty much continuously through the two acts. Pearson is mesmerizingly good. This demanding role has him at the piano, singing or speaking, almost non-stop. Brochu and Schalchlin modeled Gideon from real life, and Pearson inhabits that role.

What about the music? It’s good, even very good. The songs run the gamut from comical ditties, sensitive ballads, and lots of blues-inflected tunes. There are a several memorable pieces – Going It Alone is a standout. (You can hear The Last Session soundtrack through Spotify). http://www.thelastsession.com

As a gay-themed play, The Last Session is much more personal and focused than, say, Torch Song Trilogy or Angels in America. It’s a personal story and a good showcase of Schalchlin’s range as a songwriter. See The Last Session through December 2, 2019 at Atlas Art Studio. 

Singer Nancy Wilson first rose to fame on the strength a demo single of what became her signature number, “Guess Who I Saw Today.” In Wilson's searing rendition this torchy anecdote becomes a torturous revelation of a husband's infidelity. 

That demo recording was so powerful it led Capitol Records to sign Wilson in 1960; the song’s popularity spawned five albums. And Wilson continued to sing that song masterfully for decades. 

It takes a certain kind of singer to do that, and in an October 13 tribute to Wilson at the Studebaker Theater, local jazz eminence Bobbi Wilsyn delivered that song and a taste of the magic of Nancy Wilson in a retrospective put together by the Chicago Jazz Orchestra. Actually it took a trio of prominent jazz vocalists - Wilsyn, along with the incomparable Roberta Gambarini and rising star Sarah Marie Young - to give just a sampling of Wilson's ouvre. With these three remarkable performers, it was clearly a labor of love. 

Wilson was chanteuse, jazz interpreter, song actress, and pop and R&B singer all rolled into one. Those of us who can recall popular music before the British Invasion know Nancy Wilson well, even if we haven’t recalled her lately. In the early 1960s her jazzy renditions of Broadway standards repeatedly climbed the pop charts. It wasn't always clear to contemporaries that Wilson was a jazz singer; she was simply a popular singer, and jazz was more a embedded into our musical idiom then. In retrospect, she is definitely singing jazz - now a rarity outside those who specialize in it.

Wilson’s career retrospective (she stopped singing in 2011) was part of a year-long celebration of is Chicago Jazz Orchestra's 40^th anniversary that continues with a December 21 Holiday Ellabration (Ella Fitzgerald as interpreted by Dee Alexander) and a May 18, 2019 All-Star 40^th Anniversary Concert. 

The orchestra was also beefed up to 40 pieces, with a full complement of strings along with the orchestra’s retinue of percussion and brass. This was terrific, as each of the singers made three appearances, delivering two or three songs in each: a jazz classic, a song book standard, or a song closely associated with Nancy Wilson. The strings were brought to bear on some of those numbers, like Lush Life, which Roberta Gamborini performed magnificently - ala Wilson. The performances were studio quality across the board. 

For some numbers, the strings were silent and the orchestra pared back to just vibraphone (Thaddeus Tukes) guitar (Lee Rothenberg) piao (Dan Trudell) and bass (Dennis  Carroll). When the brass was in the lead and sax were soloing, I only regretted they were set way back on the stage, instead of up front of the strings. 

The artistry by these three was not in mimicking Wilson, but in resurrecting her interpretations. And for the orchestra, it was recovering and recreating the orchestrations – a specialty of the Chicago Jazz Symphony under Jeff Lindberg, the conductor and artistic director. It’s a little known fact that Chicago has a Jazz Orchestra. And it is renowned for its growing library of transcriptions – sheet music of arrangements drawn from recordings of the genre’s masters.

Founded in 1978, the Chicago Jazz Orchestra is the city’s oldest professional jazz orchestra in continuous operation and one of the oldest jazz repertory orchestras in the country. Its mission is to develop and promote an appreciation for and understanding of music for the American jazz orchestra as it was originally conceived, performed and recorded by jazz master composers and soloists.

Jeff Lindberg and the late Steve Jensen first came up with their big band concept in 1978 (founded as the Jazz Members Big Band), which evolved into the Chicago Jazz Orchestra, a 17-piece premiere jazz ensemble that has garnered both national and international recognition. Lindberg is one of the foremost transcribers in jazz. As a result, the orchestra’s repertoire draws upon his vast library including the works of Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Dizzy Gillespie, Lionel Hampton, Benny Carter, Oliver Nelson, Ray Charles. Because the CJO has its own transcriptions of the original recordings, much of the music in its concerts cannot be heard anywhere else. The CJO also performs compositions and arrangements by CJO members, including Associate Artistic Director Charles Harrison. www.chicagojazzorchestra.org

Martin McDonagh's The Lonesome West brings us Coleman and Valene Connor, two brothers fighting continuously over issues large and small: which brand of potato chips is better, who of the two do girls find more attractive, and who really owns their house.

As the play opens, Coleman (Robert Tobin), the older brother is at the table with the village priest, Father Welsh (Mark Tacderas), who is wheedling for a glass of poitin – the illegal local hooch brewed from potatoes. The two discuss a funeral held that day, Coleman complaining to the priest about the lack of refreshments. 

“If I held the purse strings” there would have been food and drink, Coleman says. That complaint pales in contrast, or perhaps increases in significance, as we learn that it was Coleman's own father who was buried today. His lack of engagement with the loss of his parent, however, is our first signal that something is amiss. And somehow, it becomes slightly understandable, as we learn that Coleman has killed his father with a shotgun.

Father Welsh, who is also very thirsty for his poitin, handily provides the audience some exposition in this scene - recounting aloud to Coleman how fortunate he is that a witness saw him trip, providing an alibi that described the shooting as completely accidental.

Soon enough Valene enters the cottage,and the two go at each other, attacking each others' emotional vulnerabilities, and battling physical as well. Father Welsh is forced to intervene to stop them, reminding them of the solemnity of the occasion - about which neither brother seems to care. We also see that Valene has marked items around the house with his initials - V  -and we learn by and by that he has used his father’s death and Coleman's emotional state, to seize ownership of all the property from his sibling. How this happened is the crux of the drama, and we will avoid spoiling that.

Let it be said, though, that this worsens what is clearly a very bad dynamic between the brothers since their early years. Now Coleman must beg, borrow and mostly steal to wrest his sustenance from his younger brother. How this happened is a key to the intrigue of the play, and as it is revealed, we witness Martin McDonagh’s signature touch in a slow, unfolding of the plot. In all McDonagh’s works, we see a gradual reveal of the story, as he peels the onion – shocking and surprising us as the action advances. 

For the dramatic action, McDonagh’s characters are not merely arguing vehemently.  Colin and Valene are at each other’s throats, and private parts, with knifes, guns and fists. It becomes apparent that their father kept the two young men from killing each other, thus far.

Years of childhood enmity repressed by Dad come roaring to the surface, like a volcano erupting. With him gone, we watch in ensuing scenes as Coleman and Valene come perilously close to mutual injury and possibly murder. 

All the pummeling draws Father Welsh to intervene several times in the course of the play – stepping into the role Dad must have held. But this priest is a fragile figure, and he soon despairs of ever straightening out the boys, or anyone in his benighted parish.

“I thought Leenane was a nice place when I turned up here,” he confides to Girleen Kelleher (Phoebe Moore). “But then I find out it’s a murder capital.” Unfortunately for Father Welsh, Kelleher is a sadistic blackguard who taunts the suffering priest mercilessly, driving him further to despair. She also happens to be the local purveyor of poitin, on which Father Welsh is very dependent.

The brothers are chastened by Father Welsh after another neighbor commits suicide, and the two make efforts to mend their ways and to get along. But the deeper patterns of emotional dysfunction rise to the fore, and things go from bad to worse.

I won't reveal more of the story; go see this play. The performances by the cast are very strong.  The black humor of The Lonesome West is also part of its attraction, as well as the gradual unfolding of the plot. In his recent star turn, Three Billboards Outside Billings, Missouri we see how far McDonagh's mastery has progressed. This earlier work is a little less smooth, but is still a strong, if shorter, pleasure. 

The current production excels in physical performance, and this show is very physical. But it is somewhat hampered by the challenge of capturing the lilt of McDonagh's Irish English - the cast is consistent in their reach for the script's accent, but the language (and meaning) is lost at times to pace and cadence. Nevertheless, most of it comes through, and the underlying performances are uniformly good. 

The Lonesome West is directed by Dana Anderson and produced by AstonRep Theatre Company. It runs through November 18 at The Raven Theatre in Chicago. 

Martin McDonagh has lately become even more widely known for his screenplays, and is among those select writers whose byline can draw ticket sales. (He wrote and directed In Bruges with Colin Farrell and Ralph Fiennes; and Seven Psychopaths with Farrell, Woody Harrelson, and Sam Rockwell. His star rocketed with highly acclaimed Three Billboards Outside Billings, Missouri, which he wrote for Frances McDormand and which garnered two Oscars and won Golden Globe Awards. 

But before all that McDonagh was writing plays in Ireland in his native Irish English (he was born in England of Irish parents), set in Western Ireland, with titles like A Skull in Connemara, The Cripple of Inishmaan, and The Banshees of Inisheer, all towns in the vicinity of Galway and the Aran Islands.

The Lonesome West (1997) is the third in McDonagh’s Leenane Trilogy, perhaps the most famous being The Beauty Queen of Leenane (a Tony nominee for Best Play 1998). He set the very successful Pillowman outside Ireland, and A Behanding in Spokanee was his first set in the U.S.  All this by way of saying, do not miss an opportunity to see a Martin McDonagh work played live and well on stage in Chicago. 

“Downstate” is a bit of a dog whistle for Chicagoland, suggesting a cultural distinction between urbanites in the north, and the vast agrarian expanses to the south – downstate - where trash goes, sewage flows, and where the state government builds prisons.

The word becomes generalized in Downstate, a new play by Pulitzer Prize winner Bruce Norris, which looks at the fraught issue of finding housing for convicted pedophiles after they serve time for their crimes. During parole, these men are returned to the” community,” but not to their home.

Instead they live in halfway houses operated by non-profits, sited in carefully proscribed areas that must be so-many hundreds of feet away from schools and other areas children may gather. The inhabitants are not allowed to go online, or possess a smartphone, keep alcohol, use Facebook, or move about freely.

Norris takes the less politically correct position of empathy in showing the suffering imposed on these pariahs, who in the world of #MeToo are unlikely to get a second thought. They are subject to regular inquisitions by parole officers, and a concatenation of rules and restrictions means there are few locations for them to live in such transitional halfway houses. So, they are shipped Downstate.

“I started doing a lot of reading about the things paroled sex offenders increasingly face– registries, residency restrictions, neighborhood watches, self-appointed vigilante groups,” says Norris. “These are post-incarceration punishments, that don’t exist for any other category of criminal.”

That in a nutshell is what Downstate is about: four men holed up in a house run by a Lutheran social service agency. They can go to work and come home, and that’s about it – even the local IGA grocery store is only 2,450 feet from the elementary school. They are indeed strange bedfellows, and Norris gives us the nuance of the caliber of their individual violations:

• the piano teacher Fred (Steppenwolf stalwart Francis Guinan) who had sex with two adolescent male students. Guinan, in an understated performance, shows the range that can be expressed within a very constrained character.

• Gio (Glenn Davis in an amazing, hyperbolic performance) a frenetic man on the make with a plan in his hand, whose crime was considered Category 1 (lower level) statutory rape of a young woman below age.

• Felix (Eddie Torres) who was convicted of incest with his daughter. Torres conveys the abject suffering and torment as he loses access to his family.

• A Broadway choreographer and accomplished promoter and musical artist, Dee, who fell in love with a 14-year-old boy in a road show of Peter Pan.

As Dee, K. Todd Freeman gives what will certainly become a definitive expression to the role. He is the settled voice of reason and a nurturant center of gravity within this ad hoc family of men, shopping for them and helping to make a home for them. As audience, we listen to Dee: he dishes and gives back as good as he gets – and he becomes our guide and the closest thing to a voice of reason.

Norris may be toying with us, then, by making Dee a very sympathetic character, while at the same time making him an unrepentant advocate for man-boy love – the movement that sees adult male love of minor boys as a victimless crime, and which advocates for release of those convicted of it. 

“There’s not many cases of death by blowjob!” Dee asserts. Gio, for one, abhors Dee both for his gayness and for his pederasty, with some violent outbursts in the house as a result.

Norris focuses this tension with the introduction of Andy (Tim Hopper), a Northshore suburbanite who with his wife Em (Matilda Ziegler) comes to visit Fred to seek redress, to “process” the issue and obtain formal emotional closure by getting him to sign an explicit statement acknowledging his wrongs. Norris contrasts Andy’s suffering with the experience of Dee, who comes to the defense of Fred, while revealing that he, too, was abused as a child – and claims to be none the worse for it. Fred and Em bring all the conventional middle class psychological expression to their claims - but framed within the context of Downstate, it begins to sound more like "white people's problems." 

Norris seems fearless in treading into such troublemaker territory. His Pulitzer winning Clybourn Park visited historic efforts in 1959 to block African Americans from moving into a white Chicago neighborhood, then returned 50 years later to watch a reversal of prejudice as whites tried to gentrify the same now-black area. Downstate will test its audience even further, since pedophiles are largely today's lepers.

Downstate is directed by Pam MacKinnon, and she had her hands full to balance the energy emanating from this remarkable company of performers. A call out to Cecilia Noble as parole officer Ivy - it's almost a thankless role to play the character who has a thankless job, in a play like this. But thank you, Ivy, for very good performance. 

Of particular note, the production is a joint effort by Steppenwolf and the National Theatre of the U.K. It may surprise you to learn the cast is transatlantic. The flawless, broad, working class accent of extreme south suburban Effie (played by Aimee Lou Wood, a Manchester, England native) and the dulcet Kenilworth articulation of Em (played by Londoner Matilda Ziegler) were learned right here on Halsted street, under the tutelage of Gigi Buffington.

Downstate plays through November 18 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. After that it moves to the National Theatre London in January 2019.

The new show running at the Den Theater, Fun Harmless Warmachine, may surprise you. While treating the world of video games, which struggles for recognition against more established art forms, it delivers an important commentary on a powerful social phenomenon.

Video games are a cultural mainstay; when a new game “drops” it can earn $1 billion, far more than a typical Hollywood blockbuster. Often dismissed as trivial, video games are full, multi-media expressions, and they truly merit our attention.

Fun Harmless Warmachine is also seriously good, I dare say even an important play. But its setting in the social world of virtually-interactive video game players could not be further afield from the living, breathing world of live theater. Playwright Fin Coe has successfully brought that extremely virtual world to its polar opposite, the location known IRL (In Real Life) as the Stage.

The story tracks Tom, a realistic gamer who is one of the many loners, men (and a few women) who could be located anywhere in any location and time zone on earth, and who bond in massively interactive competitive battles, as a rule, without ever meeting each other.

The show’s production at Den Theater is wonderful largely because of great performances. Ayanna Bria Bakari lights up the stage from the moment she enters as Ekaterina. It is impossible to stop watching her performance, as she presents the essence of an empowered, emancipated coquettishness, providing a dramatic pivot point for the play, and for Tom, an everyman gone astray played convincingly by Daniel Chenard. We also witness a jaw droppingly powerful delivery in the closing soliloquy by Emily Marso as Melissa. 

Fun Harmless Warmachine looks at the horrible undercurrent of the misogynist male gamer, which rose to public awareness during the 2013 and 2014 scandal of #GamerGate, years before #MeToo, when women begin to complain about misogyny in the games, and others complained about their gratuitous violence.

This brought to public attention a group of violent gaming advocates, not so different from guns rights militants, who harassed their critics and attempted to stifle the discussion. 

In Fun Harmless Warmachine we meet Tom (Chenard), a wandering, disaffected youth, turning ever more cynical as he realizes he has been captured on a treadmill of a dead end job with an overbearing boss. The more trapped he feels, the more he escapes to the world of gaming, withdrawing from his real relationships with work friends, leaving calls from his family unanswered, and becoming further depressed by a lack of romance in his life.

Tom's world devolves ever more into role playing games, where he poses as an alpha male warrior in a popular mass-participant game known as “Iron Fate.” During a match, Tom is discovered by a secret group of alt right gamer rights advocates – the "Order of the Sword.” The whole thing might remind you of an online version of the Fight Club. Indeed members are sworn to secrecy.  

This group's leader is Hunter, that familiar dominant male presence who can also fortify a weak ego (played with perfect menace by Robert Koon). Hunter woos Tom, enlisting him in Order of the Sword's efforts to stalk, shame, and harass activists who protest gaming for its celebration of violence. It's testosterone-fueled agenda also feeds Tom’s emotional void, giving him a sense of purpose and belonging. Buoyed by the group, his self-esteem rises, and he begins to find success in a new job and in his love life with Ekatarina (Bakari).

As Tom succumbs and becomes part of the group’s sinister pursuits of degrading, stalking and harassing women through social media, he finds a purpose that boosts his ego. 

Ultimately the play comes to a satisfying resolution, and Tom faces up to the evils he has wrought. While it is an Everyman story and a moral fable, this does not diminish Fun Harmless Warmachine as a satisfying dramatic work. 

Though hundreds of millions of people play video games for recreation and enjoyment, there truly is a subset of hyper-masculine, frequently misogynistic communities who combine into teams formed in this world of massively interactive video gamers.

By trial and error such kindred souls bond, and in this social landscape some less healthy individuals do actually form small, and insidious groups of alt right meanies. The groups coalesce into a terribly unhealthy social cliques, often choosing women as targets of their uncivilized behavior.

These folks increasingly transferred their virtual cruelty into real life harassment of harmless individuals who had the misfortune of being caught in their crosshairs. As gamers began to be called out for their misogyny, the term Gamergate arose - resonating too in the pre-#MeToo complaints about Silicon Valley misogyny.

“I finished it in 2015, and I was afraid it wouldn’t be relevant anymore,” says playwright Coe. But given the #MeToo movement and the recent tribulation of the Supreme Court appointment hearings, the world is even more ready for this play. After its run at Den Theater, it would not be surprising to see Coes work reappear at someplace like Steppenwolf Garage or another new voices program. Dramaturgs take note!

Don't miss your chance to see Fun Harmless War Machine through November 4 at The Den Theater in Chicago.

The story of the aftermath of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War has been told and retold, but never in such a lively and colorful manner as Vietgone, now playing at the Writers Theatre in Glencoe.

Written with the insight and perspective of a first-generation millennial, the play by Qui Nguyen gives us a fresh take not only on the story, but on storytelling and dramatic style and structure – a work that is part musical, part performance piece, all of it fitting for our era of Hamilton-style historical drama. Directed beautifully by Lavina Jadhwani, Vietgone features original music and music direction by Gabriel Ruiz, who has gained acclaim in Chicago’s venturesome Teatro Vista’s Ensemble. It features great choreography by Tommy Rapley.

If you feel the story of the Vietnam War has been covered ad nauseum already, you will be immensely surprised and entertained by this take from a group of people who were most directly affected the fallout of the event – Vietnamese who were hurriedly and even chaotically evacuated in April 1975, as South Vietnam’s capital, Saigon, fell to the North Vietnamese forces.

In Vietgone, we meet a series of character “types” – the author himself (who introduces the play as “possibly true”); also his father; and a young woman who plans to thrive on her new found freedom; her opportunistic middle-aged mother, who hopes to find romance, and to avoid learning English; U.S. soldier who falls for a Vietnamese girl; even a racist biker who stands in for the legions of Americans who had trouble laying down enmity against their Asian enemies after decades of war against the North Vietnamese Communist regime.

One character, a South Vietnamese army pilot, desperately wants to return to his wife and two young children. But if he does, he will likely be punished as a war criminal by the victors from Hanoi. Nguyen forthrightly addresses such stories of individual suffering and the culture clashes that ensued for these sudden transplants whose families and way of life were abruptly torn asunder.

But Nguyen also conveys the joy that was discovered in contemporary American rhythm and blues and rock and funk and dance as these individuals found their way. From this grounding springs an entrancing musical experience. Lyrics to the songs are rapped clear as a bell, with some songs “nearly sung” quite delightfully. This entrancing musical performance overlay may belie the darker aspects of the deeply powerful story that it also conveys. But the form brings us into the work so we can receive that story.

Vietgone centers its tale on the initial phase of evacuation, 130,000 South Vietnamese who were transported to via Guam into the United States, landing at resettlement camps at four military bases: Fort Chaffee in Arkansas, Camp Pendleton in California, Fort Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania, and Eglin Air Force Base in Florida. Nearly two million more people followed them in separate exoduses, settling at points around the globe under U.N. auspices. 

Along with telling the story of that first cohort, Qui Nguyen introduces us to numerous memorable characters, whose background and personalities stay with us following the show. To have established so many individuals so vividly and concretely is quite an impressive accomplishment - all to the credit of this sterling cast. Standouts are Aurora Adachi-Winter as Tong and Matthew C. Yee as Quang. 

Vietgone is highly recommended. It runs through September 23 at Writers Theatre. 

*Extended through September 29th