Displaying items by tag: Bri Sudia

I arrived at the Goodman Theatre for the opening of its 47^th annual production of A Christmas Carol, directed by Jessica Thebus, like many of us—not really feeling the upcoming holidays. I’m usually a real Pollyanna, trying to put on the happy face. I’m usually Bob Cratchit, the good soldier. I’m Tiny Tim Cratchit, even, throwing around “God bless us, everyone” like it’s tinsel. But not this year. This year, I got to the Goodman feeling like a regular Scrooge. And then I walked into the lobby and the whole thing hit me like a series of middle-of-the-night spectral visits upon a four-poster bed. It changed me.

From the balcony above we were greeted by Benet Academy’s Madrigal Singers, sprinkling down on us carol after carol. Seated next to a large, unlit Christmas tree was William Buchholtz, a Native American flautist and a haunting caroler himself. Thebus, back for her fourth Goodman production of this holiday favorite, addressed the audience, lighting the tree and spreading some cheer—and we hadn’t even found our seats yet.

Once the show began, the sets by Todd Rosenthal transported us back to a different beautiful but bleak era—Dickensian England. All of the trappings one expects of A Christmas Carol are there. Muffed carolers, chestnut peddlers and poultry peddlers, and Scrooge & Marley’s beckoning lending house. There we meet Christopher Donahue’s Ebenezer Scrooge—mutton-chopped and hunched and as unhappy as we expect Scrooge to be. But that darkness, very real and very dark, is constantly counteracted by the radiance of the rest of the cast. Anthony Irons’ Bob Cratchit, cheerful charity collectors played by Penelope Walker and Wai Kim, and Dee Dee Batteast’s ever-loving niece all fend off Scrooge’s glare and gruffness by not even acknowledging his grinchiness—their world, while perhaps less financially happy than Scrooge’s, is a completely separate and better world emotionally than his, down to the vibrant colors of their costumes.

(L-R) Anthony Irons, Christopher Donahue, Ava Rose Doty, Xavier Irons, Henry Lombardo, Isabel Ackerman, Viva Boresi, Tafadzwa Diener and Susaan Jamshidi.

Once back at Scrooge’s house (whose ghastly door knocker made both me and my young daughter jump, even though I knew what was coming) we are surrounded by this bleak world this miserable old miser’s made for himself. It’s drafty and dark and dusty and the perfect place for the jarring arrival of Scrooge’s long-dead partner, Jacob Marley, played by William Dick.

The sights and sounds of Marley’s visit are frightening, even when expected, but they contrast the joy and light spread by the first two spirits who visit Scrooge once Marley departs. Lucky Stiff’s Ghost of Christmas Past is buoyant and bright and over the top—meant to get Scrooge’s attention and ours. The spirit transports us all back in time where our hearts break along with a young Ebenezer Scrooge, portrayed brilliantly by Henry Lombardo, and then leap across the hardwood of Fezziwig’s warehouse-turned-dancehall, only to be broken again by Scrooge’s interaction with his true love played charmingly by Amira Danan. We see all the light Scrooge has lost—and it only makes him and the world he’s created that much darker.

Scrooge’s present is as sad as the present world around him is resolutely jolly, made all the more so by Bri Sudia’s Ghost of Christmas Present. The Cratchit children—Isabel Ackerman, Viva Boresi, Xavier Irons, Tafradzwa Diener, and Ava Rose Doty as Tiny Tim—counter Susaan Jamshidi’s tired and realistic Mrs. Cratchit, just as Batteast does at an evening party attended by other folks who are over it.

While Marley’s ghost was truly terrifying, this Ghost of Christmas Future was less scary and sadder—a dead flower, a faded dowager. But, of course, it’s the specter of a sad future that finally snaps Scrooge out of his life of being a scrooge.

And Donahue’s transformation is very real. We’re all used to a claw-handed and clench-jawed Scrooge from film after film. And we know the change to come—to that of a heel-clicking distributor of charity and cheer. But seeing it happen right there, before our eyes, was as magical an effect as any of the magic on display. A real Christmas miracle.

Now, I have no clue if transforming a Scrooge-like audience was Thebus’ intent (or Dickens’), although I’m sure that’s what both were aiming for. But just like the Victorians who Dickens was addressing, our world today could use some hope and some cheer. And just as Donahue’s Scrooge did onstage, I found myself leaving the Goodman Theatre a little more hopeful and a little more cheerful. I have no idea if you’ll experience the same transformation as I did, but I can promise you that this production of A Christmas Carol, at the Goodman Theatre from now through December 30, will at the very least entertain you and warm your heart this holiday season.

“God’s will” is often invoked as a reason for suffering in Barbara Lebow’s 1984 A Shayna Maidel, now being revived in a powerfully acted and impressively designed production at Timeline Theatre. While this might provide comfort to those who suffer, it also provides cover for those who caused the suffering. This point is made in the play, but the focus is on what people do survive, not on the circumstances that compel them to have to fight for survival. Taking place in 1946, it is a powerful tribute to the resilience of those who lived through Hitler’s Final Solution. As one family realizes that their estrangement is based on more than just miles and struggles to once again become as whole as possible, their perspectives and memories go beyond the lists of the dead to show the personal impact of not only hate, but ignorance, both willful and not. As the Holocaust slips further into history, it is important to remind people of its toll on humanity, and how easy it was to stay on the sidelines, allowing “God’s will” to be done.

A Shayna Maidel begins the generation before the main events of the play, in a Polish village in 1876, where a child is being born in the midst of a Russian pogrom. Fires burn, screams fill the air, and horses’ hooves thunder. The baby, Mordechai, is born without a cry, but he survives. Flash forward to 1946, and Rose Weiss is roused from sleep by pounding on the door. It is her father, Mordechai Weiss, now a successful store manager in New York City, waking Rose with the news that her sister, Lusia, has survived the concentration camps and will be coming to stay with her in a few days. Rose, who has recently gotten a job and the apartment that she is being ordered to share, is not happy that she is being given no choice in the matter. She has no memory of Lusia and her mother, whom she and Mordechai left behind in Poland when they came to America when she was four. Though she feels guilty about being the sister who was able to grow up American, Rose is as American as Mordechai raised her to be. She was able to ride out the Depression without pain and, though she has forced herself to watch newsreels of Nazi atrocities, Mordechai has isolated her from news of the family and her sympathy is from a distance. Lusia’s arrival brings it home.

Emily Berman’s haunted Lusia captures the steely resolve that kept her from giving up and keeps her looking for her husband when the search seems hopeless. Her careful movements and speech conceal the accumulation of loss and suffering, as well as the seething fury, that she cannot leave behind. As her sister Rose, Bri Sudia embodies the more mundane struggles she faces—working and creating her own life and identity despite her father’s objections—she is radiant, powerful and compassionate, despite her ignorance of the world she escaped. Initially resentful of having to take in her lost sister, Rose becomes an ally and friend as the bonds of blood and memory emerge. As the patriarch Mordechai, Charles Stransky fully realizes the imperious anger that both daughters remember, and the pride that reveals his love for them, but also played a role in their estrangement, a fact that he forces himself to ignore. Carin Silkaitis plays Mama with a warmth and pragmatism that reflects the character’s own strength in facing hardships. Weaving through Lusia’s memories are her husband Duvid and her best friend Hanna. We see Alex Stein’s Duvid go from cocky teenager, to proud husband worried about protecting the future of his family while still retaining his brash charm. As Hanna, Sarah Wisterman is bubbly and gregarious, hopeful and defiant in the face Nazi atrocities.

Director Vanessa Stalling has assembled a perfect cast and understands the importance of remembering the events that tear apart the Weiss family in Lebow’s play, though some flashbacks prove problematic, lending an elegiac quality that deprives the play of its contemporary relevance. Still, the moments that provide a reason to remember are powerfully rendered—the comparison of lists of the lost, the litany of causes for Lusia’s abandonment in Poland, the hope that runs through the tragedy, not as a weak last gasp, but as a powerful choice. It is this hope that makes the production worth checking out, even though the script sometimes threatens to relegate the threats faced by the Weiss family to the past, rather than reminding us that they still exist. Stalling’s design team finds the balance between the visceral and the mundane. The note-perfect set by Collette Pollard and props by Hillarie M. Shockley, with their cheery colors and all the luxuries that a 1946 walk-up might contain, ensure that the realistic story stays connected to the real stories it represents. Costume designer Samantha C. Jones likewise accents the reality of the time, from the Rose’s middle-class chic, to Mama’s peasant vibrance, to Lusia’s evolving wardrobe, from drab Red Cross issued dress to the relative elegance of the flower prints that echo her sister’s own clothes. Lighting designer Rachel K. Levy shifts her palette between the warm glow of the apartment and memories of childhood to the harsh saturated colors that define the realities of oppression. Sound designer and composer Jeffrey Levin creates a rich aural tapestry, with music ranging from klezmer to period pop, the music of the present and memories, and the terrifying sounds of violent onslaught.

It is important that the world never forget the Holocaust. A Shayna Maidel brings its memory to life, but it does not go far enough in showing us why it is important, nor placing blame where it belongs. It becomes too easy to shift the blame to Mordechai, with his imperious pride, rather than a world that turned away. This has nothing to do with Vanessa Stalling’s meticulous and impassioned Timeline Theatre production, which is a devastating reminder of events that are growing distant enough that their lessons are being daily—and sometimes deliberately—forgotten. Emily Berman’s Lusia embodies the hope and strength required to survive crushing loss and abandonment, while Bri Sudia’s Rose shows the genuine value of empathy. As Mordechai, Charles Stransky finds the compassion behind his character’s overbearing demeanor, and the remainder of the ensemble show the tragedy of what was lost in the face of Nazi atrocities and the world’s wavering response. A Shayna Maidel, the play, misses opportunities to show the ongoing impact of ignoring ethnic cleansing and genocide—connections made, but not pursued. However, the members of Lebow’s fictional Weiss family and their journeys provide many indelible moments of recognition, recrimination, love and loss.

A Shayna Maidel runs through November 4 at Timeline Theatre Company, 615 W. Wellington, Chicago. Performances take place Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays at 8 pm, Saturdays at 4 pm and 8 pm, and Sundays at 2 pm. Tickets are available at timelinetheatre.com or by calling the box office at (773)281-8463 x 6.

*Extended through December 2nd

This excellent stage production of the 2013 musical Far from Heaven was based on Todd Haynes‘ 2002 motion picture of the same name. 

Far from Heaven is set in 1957 Hartford, Connecticut, well before the advent of the sexual revolution. Cathy Whitaker played by Summer Naomi Smart discovers that her handsome, successful businessman husband Frank is having affairs - with other men! Frank was played very well and very selfishly - if not compassionately - towards his wife whose world is crushed unexpectedly by actor Brandon Springman. 

After a time of trying to convert her husband back to heterosexuality by a psychologist, Cathy and her husband realize the emptiness and futility of their sexless and coldly critical relationship continuing just for the sake of the children.

Cathy's new gardener and widowed single father of a ten-year-old daughter, Raymond Deagan (Evan Tyrone Martin), becomes her friend and the scandal of her own life in spite of their necessarily platonic enjoyment of each other's company.

Evan Tyrone Martin has a wonderful rich smooth voice, arguably the best in the show and a nice natural quality to his acting. Summer Naomi Smart is stunning to look at as the real life "Stepford Wife" whose world comes crashing down when she tries to surprise visit her husband on a night he is "working late again" and gets the shock of her life when she finds him in the office in the arms of another man.

I've seen Ms. Smart in many musical comedies but this is the first time I have seen her really let loose in a dark way, especially in the scene when she confronts her husband about his homosexual affairs and lets out a terrifying and mournful wail that truly came from deep inside her character’s psyche. It was nice to see her tackle then take the reigns on this multi-dimensional role.  

Grant Saban‘s set seemed too much like a doll house to me, very one dimensional in color and shapes but perhaps that was intentional in terms of the subtext of the repressive 1950's. However, William Morey‘s gorgeous period costumes, which reminded me of a cross between Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore's beautifully tailored and colorfully designed outfits in their respective series, brought the whole set to life.

Bri Sudia‘s performance is rich and dynamic as Cathy’s best friend Eleanor, who is very sympathetic about the sexless and lovlessness of Cathy's picture perfect marriage yet deserts her best friend over the issue of an interracial friendship. All of the supporting characters and girlfriends of Cathy Whitaker in this production do an excellent job in their respective roles and deliver as many ironic laughs as possible with subject matter that really is just a lot of sad statements about the wasted loves of many marriages in the fifties - marriages, which were built on lies and social and financial convenience rather than genuine love and real sexual attraction. 

Turning this subject matter into a musical may have made it more fun and palatable, but also detracted from the seriousness and tragedy of a woman who has given birth to two children and ends up totally alone, a single mother in the fifties, because of years and years of lies from a man who was supposed to be her best friend and true love. Yet the accompaniment of a great live orchestra really brings this sometimes somber score to life when needed. 

Finely directed by Chuck Larkin, Porchlight Musical Theatre's Far from Heaven is playing at Stage 773 through March 13th. For more show information on this absorbing and well-pieced-together production, visit www.prochlightmusictheatre.org.