Displaying items by tag: Eldon WarnerSoriano

Marriott Theatre’s in‑the‑round intimacy turns A Little Night Music - which premiered on Broadway in 1973 and later became a 1977 film - into a quietly seductive swirl of glances, secrets, and second chances, the kind of production where the waltz feels like its own character. Under the soft glow of perpetual twilight, Sondheim’s lovers and liars circle one another with equal parts longing and restraint, and the space itself heightens every stolen look and half‑spoken truth. It’s a show built on emotional undercurrents, and Marriott’s staging lets those currents ripple right through the audience.

Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music unfolds like a slow-turning dance that keeps tightening its circle, drawing its characters closer to the truths they’ve been avoiding. Set in a turn‑of‑the‑century Sweden where manners are crisp but desires run hot, the story follows lawyer Fredrik Egerman, a man trying to convince himself he’s content. He’s recently married Anne, a porcelain‑delicate young bride who’s still clinging to her innocence, while his son Henrik broods in the corner, nursing both a cello and an unspoken crush.

Everything tilts when Fredrik reconnects with Desiree Armfeldt, the actress he once loved and never quite got over. Desiree, ever the pragmatist, is juggling her own complications - namely Count Carl‑Magnus Malcolm, a swaggering dragoon whose jealousy burns hotter than his intellect. When Desiree attempts to untangle her romantic knots, she invites everyone to her mother’s country estate for a “quiet weekend,” which of course becomes anything but.

Alan H. Green in Marriott Theatre's A Little Night Music.

What follows is a weekend of mismatched couples, misread signals, and emotional truths finally spoken aloud. Under the glow of the perpetual Nordic twilight, partners shift, illusions crack, and the characters discover that love - in all its foolishness and ache - is rarely tidy but often exactly what they need. By the time the final waltz resolves, hearts have realigned, old wounds have softened, and the night has delivered its promised wisdom.

Sondheim’s score remains the production’s quiet spellbinder - a latticework of turning phrases, reprises, and melodic ironies that reveal as much about the characters as the book does. Songs like “Now,” “Soon,” and “Later” braid together with clockwork precision, exposing the emotional stalemates everyone is too polite to name, while “A Weekend in the Country” bursts with layered wit and rising chaos. And when the music finally slows into the aching simplicity of “Send in the Clowns,” the entire evening seems to exhale. Marriott’s staging lets these songs land not as showpieces but as confessions, each one circling closer to the truths the characters have been dancing around all night.

Under Nick Bowling’s beautifully calibrated direction, A Little Night Music moves with a clarity, elegance, and emotional intelligence that allows every waltz, glance, and confession to land with quiet precision.

Marriott’s production finds its center of gravity in Alexandra Silber, whose Desirée Armfeldt glows with the practiced sparkle of an actress slightly past her prime who knows exactly how she’s perceived and used by the married men who adore her - and the bruised vulnerability of someone who’s finally tired of the performance. Silber calibrates every beat with care: the sly asides, the brittle composure, the ache that flickers just beneath the surface. When she reaches “Send in the Clowns,” it doesn’t arrive as a grand gesture but as something far more intimate - a truth about the “bread crumbing” type of love she’s accepted as a traveling working actress that she’s been circling and battling for years. Opposite her, Andrew Samonsky gives Fredrik Egerman a beautifully worn‑in charm, the kind of man who hides his longing behind polite smiles and a touch of self‑mockery. His Fredrik isn’t a fool; he’s a man quietly unraveling, caught between the mature love he’s built and the young carefree one he still imagines he can achieve with his much younger bride. Samonsky’s performance is both sensual and frustratingly narcissistic. One example of this is when Fredrik apologizes to Desiree - as he leaves her heartbroken yet again - for confessing the tempting truth that her very presence is his safe haven… even though he has no intention of ever being saved by her.

I absolutely adored every delicate moment between lovers, friends, and husbands and wives in this gracefully performed piece, which reveals how men and women are still, even now, navigating the ever‑shifting moods of the partners in their lives in order to sustain lasting relationships.

Alan H. Green makes a vivid impression as Count Carl‑Magnus Malcolm, swaggering through the role with puffed‑up bravado and razor‑sharp comic instinct. Veronica Garza matches him effortlessly as Charlotte, her barbed wit and impeccable comedic timing turning bitterness into something unexpectedly funny and deeply human. Addie Morales gives Anne a shimmering, anxious innocence that feels grounded, while Eldon Warner‑Soriano lets Henrik’s turmoil simmer until it finally breaks open into something raw and affecting.

The singing voices of every single member of this talented and attractive cast are of true opera quality, and paired with the astoundingly modern, lyrical poetry of Sondheim’s evergreen script, I found myself leaning in to catch every word from their lips like a bee sipping nectar from flowers. Across the board, the vocals are rich, expressive, and beautifully attuned to the intricacies of Sondheim’s score.

From there, Carmen Roman anchors the evening with a magnetic, unhurried authority as Madame Armfeldt, delivering Sondheim’s sharpest observations with the cool precision of someone who has cataloged every shade of heartbreak and delicious, luxurious romance from men of great standing throughout her long life. She brings down the house with superbly dry one‑liners like, “Don’t serve them the best champagne - I’m saving that for my funeral!”

Veronica Garza, Andrew Samonsky and Carmen Roman (rear) in A Little Night Music at Marriott Theatre. Photos by Justin Barbin.

Madison Uphoff brings Petra a bold, earthy vitality - a reminder that desire belongs to everyone, not just the elegantly miserable. Together, this ensemble moves through Sondheim’s bittersweet waltz with nuance, confidence, and a clear understanding of the emotional architecture beneath the score.

Scenic Designer Regina García shapes the evening with a clean, elegant visual world that proves how little is needed to conjure an entire emotional landscape. The stage remains mostly bare - a chaise lounge here, a writing desk there - yet the details she chooses carry real poetic weight: a graceful two‑person swing drifting down from the rafters like a shared memory, a balmy moon casting its soft glow across the space, and strands of hanging lights and flowing ribbon that give the in‑the‑round theatre the feeling of a summer night suspended in time.

Associate Choreographer Katie Johannigman threads movement through this environment with a light, intuitive touch, while under Brad Haak’s baton, Sondheim’s score unfurls with clarity and warmth. Sally Dolembo’s costumes superbly wrap the production in period elegance. Dolembo’s designs resemble modern ballet costumes and express the unique sensuality and sexuality of both the male and female characters in a most tasteful and expressive way that makes your eye want to follow their every move especially the graceful way they make love to one another. The delicate, mostly pastel costumes emote a subtle erotic beauty without overwhelming each character’s emotional and comedic shifts as the night deepens and the whirl tightens its hold.

Marriott Theatre’s A Little Night Music unfolds on the perfectly intimate size of their theatre in the round stage, and the production’s emotional reach is anything but small. What emerges over the course of the evening is a circling dance of sensual longing, unrequited love and unexpected grace - a reminder of how Sondheim’s work can pierce straight through the heart when handled with this level of care. By the time the final notes fade and the lovers step back into the soft glow of twilight, the production has delivered something quietly luminous: a story about desire and forgiveness told with wit, tenderness, and a deep understanding of the ways men and women walk the tightrope of love and pride, playing love like a game of egos until they realize true love is the one thing they truly cannot live without. 

Highly recommended.

For tickets and/pr more show information, click here.

There’s an old adage that says something along the lines of “don’t judge a book by its cover.” The same wisdom can most certainly be applied to playbills. More often than not the title of a musical describes exactly what the theatre piece will be about; Hamilton is about Alexander Hamilton, Annie is about an orphan girl named Annie, Wicked is about, you guessed it, a wicked witch. Following this same logic you think I’d have known what Godspell would be about prior to seeing the show. But I, ironically, judged incorrectly and found myself judged. Having heard the name in musical theatre circles and knowing it was a Broadway darling for years, I was genuinely surprised to find that Godspell was not some spooky musical about casting spells or witchcraft and wizardry but a musical based upon the gospel according to St. Matthew. Boy did I judge that book by its cover.

Godspell is a musical based on the Gospel of Matthew, which tells the story of Jesus through a modern-day group of non-Biblical characters symbolizing his "disciples" who enact his parables through song, dance, and comedy. This production of Godspell finds a fractured and disconnected community gathered at a local coffee shop discovering the transformative power of forgiveness and embracing radical love.

Like any theatrical experience patrons must have a willing suspension of disbelief. There is a burden to check all preconceived biases at the door and allow themselves to be immersed into another world for a few short hours. That’s where the magic of theatre resides, with oneself. For the first act of Godspell, I regrettably did not suspend my disbelief. I found myself resistant to the words, given they were word for word from the Gospel of Matthew. Bearing in mind I had not researched the play nor even studied the synopsis, merely checking off the show from my musical theatre bucket list, I went into the theatre not knowing anything about this play. Two songs in and I found myself not in a cushioned theatre seat but in a hardbacked pew, wondering how everyone around me was smiling and laughing while I sat questioning what was going on and pointing out hypocrisies and double-standards. Godspell is nearly word-for-word the gospels and include infectious pop and rock songs like “Day by Day,” “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord,” “O Bless the Lord My Soul” that one might hear in any new age church. I felt myself rejecting the play, the words that were being said, the songs that were being sung, even wondering how so many people in the audience knew the play word-for-word, bar-for-bar. Surely this is just propaganda? Surely this is some kind of joke. But then it hit me. I’m being critical in the worst way. I’m judging this book by its cover. I allowed my preconceived biases to blind me of the possibility of a great show. I quickly cast away my disbelief.

Godspell was phenomenal. Debuting in 1970 with music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, the musical has been a consistent success, even becoming a major motion picture staring Victor Garber as Jesus. Music Theater Works’ version, directed by Matthew Silar, choreographed by Amanda Hope and music directed by Justin Kono, modernizes the play in a way that is not pandering or patronizing. Rather it weaves the play’s central theme and message with real people, quick witted humor, exceptional improv, and genuine love and care. While the context of the play can be preachy and heavy handed, as the Bible tends to be, this production is surprisingly light thanks to local Chicago talent like Jacob Simon as John the Baptist, Tafadzwa Diener, Dani Pike, and Ben Woods as the café community members. The intentional care and lightness the cast bring to their performances make you forget you’re listening to preachy gospel. You’re not being preached to, rather, you’re following skeptical and reluctant patrons find meaning in the words spoken at the open mic night by Jesus himself, exceptionally played by Eldon Warner-Soriano, and experiencing the lessons through clever and well-timed improv. Coupled with the talented cast, Silar’s version of Godspell strips away the heavy handedness, allowing the cast of characters to be their goofy-sometimes-awkward-yet-no-less-hilarious selves while still delivering impactful messages about loving your neighbor and forgiving others as you would want to be forgiven. It’s clear the cast and crew checked any preconceived biases at the door when staging this musical. Were one to have no prior knowledge of the Bible, the gospels, or religion itself, they’d find themselves immersed in a world of good words and teachings of love and acceptance one could find in dozens of books from Harry Potter to The Song of Achilles.

In today’s political and cultural climate, Godspell is a risky choice to put on. It was easy to allow that thin magical line between the real world and theatre to blur. It was easy to bring the real world with me when I ventured into the theatre. It was even easier to be stubborn and reject something simply because I don’t like how some people interpret, use, or weaponize the gospels. Personally, I think those very same people would do well to suspend their biases and see Godspell and be reminded about the true meaning and purpose of the very book they preach about. That being said, I think putting on Godspell in today’s political and cultural climate is not only important, it’s essential. The content of the play and Silar’s beautiful production will no doubt being necessary dialogue and spark conversation and ask audience members to reflect on the play vs. their defined ideals. Godspell is just a story of a man, told through the eyes of another man, and performed by exceptionally talented individuals. Or is it something more? Was this play preachy or did it have some real-life lessons and messages to take away? Do I reject the play or do I reject how others interpret the context behind the play? Am I being critical or skeptical? Hypocritical even? Hell, soon we’ll all be flocking to theatres to see a cinematic production about a wicked witch and will probably have very little issue suspending our disbelief as we watch a witch flying on a magical broomstick with her army of flying monkeys. So I implore everyone to keep that same energy when viewing this production of Godspell. At the end of the day, it’s just a show, and gods know we can all use a bit more magic in our lives, even if it limited to the theatre.

Godspell is presented by Music Theater Works and is sponsored by the Whirled Peas Foundation and presented in partnership with Curt’s Café. It is playing now through November 16^th at The North Shore Center for the Performing Arts in Skokie (9501 Skokie Blvd, Skokie). Tickets are now on sale from $19.50 to $106 with tickets for guests 25 years old and younger available at half-price at MusicTheaterWorks.com or by calling the Music Theater Works box office at the North Shore Center, 847.673.6300.

We are inside the Pompeii Club. From everything Charity has told us, the club is the place to be, and as the scene unfolds, it’s certainly no surprise. Costume Designer Cindy Moon does not hold back. The ensemble is dressed to the nines – full of dresses and jumpsuits that firmly plant us in the 60s. Lighting Designer Ellie Humphrys fills the stage with bright color – helping the costumes pop even more.

Then the song begins. Fans of Sweet Charity may recognize the opening notes of “Rich Man’s Frug” as the ensemble starts to gather and dance the original Bob Fosse choreography. To say Choreographer Lauryn Schmelzer’s work astounds is an understatement. The group of 11 performs the chorography perfectly in sync, eliciting cheers from the audience with every curve of the shoulder, adjustment of the cigarette, or of course, pop of a jazz hand.  

Fans of Sweet Charity will of course recognize the famous score. The talented cast soars with all the favorites including “Big Spender,” “There’s Gotta Be Something Better Than This,” “You Should See Yourself,” and “I Love to Cry at Weddings.” The boppy music is sure to leave you dancing along in your seats. However, that which especially pushes this production over the top is Schmelzer’s choreography that accompanies each of the hits – making each number unique while at the same time giving the proper nod to Fosse’s influence.

Directed by Johanna McKenzie Miller, Sweet Charity follows Charity Hope Valentine (Teah Kiang Mirabelli) – an optimistic dance-hall hostess with dreams of finding true love. The musical kicks off with a comical disaster as the man Charity thinks will be her forever soul mate pushes her into a river, stealing her dowry in the process. However, she does not give up hope, and the story invites us into her world as she commiserates with her friends at the Fandango Ballroom and even meets new potential suitors – such as Vittorio Vidal (Eldon Warner-Soriano) and Oscar Lindquist (Dustin Rothbart).

Miller does not shy away from the camp, making the production full of comedy as Charity runs into obstacle after obstacle on her quest. However, you might just find that the element that truly draws you into the story is the heart at the center. Charity’s never-ending optimism is certainly something to be celebrated and brings light to a story that could go quite dark if she gave into the hardships that keep getting thrown her way.

“If My Friends Could See Me Now” is a prime exampling - taking place mid-way through Act One. Charity has found herself in the bedroom of Vittorio Vidal – a famous movie star. He briefly leaves her alone and she simply cannot help but gush at the turn of her luck. Her friends had told her to give up on her dreams, but here she is proving that if you just keep believing, anything can happen. Mirabelli’s voice astounds, but in addition, she exudes positive energy as she performs the number, creating a stage presence that you just might find is impossible not to love. The end of the song elicited cheers from the audience, making it clear that I was not alone in my sentiments.

Full of camp and with a powerhouse cast, Sweet Charity makes for a night of fun. Whether you are a long-time fan of the show or this is your first time with the material, Blank Theatre’s production carries a little something for everyone.

Sweet Charity runs through June 8 at the Greenhouse Theater Center. See the Blank Theatre Company website for more information on tickets.

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*This review is also featured on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/!