Displaying items by tag: Mark Pracht

It’s hard to imagine now, but in 1954, the U.S. Senate began investigating publishers of comic books, tapping psychologists who linked a rise in juvenile delinquency to comics depicting lurid stories and violent criminals. The nation was perhaps primed for the investigation, as the move came during the Senate’s ongoing McCarthy era pogrom against suspected communists during the Red Scare.

“The Innocence of Seduction” recounts this inconceivable (maybe not given book ban efforts today) but true story, and so delightfully and with such panache that you will be completely entertained. WIth a passionate cast of 15 players, and an inventive script by Mark Pracht (who also directs), each scene opens much like a panel in a comic book. This is Pracht’s second work in a projected “Four-Color Trilogy” about the illustrated periodicals and is the opener for City Lit’s forty-third season.

We meet real characters from actual comic book publishers, including Entertainment Comics’ William Gaines (played with gusto by Sean Harklerode), and his counterparts from St. John Publishing (Archer St. John is played by John Blick.)and Quality Comics. Key individuals in the saga are accompanied by their true-life, fleshed out backstories, which in the 1950’s made them vulnerable to compromise by background work done by J. Edgar Hoover’s minions at the FBI. 

Among these are Matt Baker (Brian Bradford), a Black closeted gay artist of romance comics, and Janice Valleau (Megan Clarke), creator of a women detective comics and artist behind the Archie Comics spin-off “Veronica and Betty.”  Representing expert psychologists connecting comics to social ills is Dr. Frederic Wertham, also a real life figure, whose commentary is interjected in vignettes very much like a comic book panel. Played so very well by Frank Nall, Dr. Wertham’s scenes gradually move from restrained scientific commentary to ever more dire rants and ultimately, darkly comic interjections.

Notable in the production are a 1950-styled big-screen for presenting comic images—credit to G. "Max" Maxin IV for Scenic, Lighting and Projection Design. Exceptional work was done by Beth Laske-Miller (Costume Designer), Petter Wahlbäck (Composer and Sound Design), Alison Dornheggen (Violence and Intimacy Design), and Jeff Brain (Props Design).

“The Innocence of Seduction” shows how, as politics entered an arena in which it didn’t belong, the public responded to this newly contrived hot-button issue, with comic book burnings blossoming in towns around the U.S. Playwright Pracht has packed it all in this work, and we meet Senators Robert Henrickson (Paul Chakrin) and Estes Kefauver (Robin Trevino), as well as jurist Charles Murphy (Chuck Munro), who was appointed the first arbiter of what could pass muster under the comic book publishing code.

Comics long bore the mark of that era, a self-policing censorship program evident on the covers of everything from Superman to The Thing through 2011: the Comics Code Authority seal of approval. Today we have abandoned fears of what at the time was deemed a threat to society. The code forbade the use of “horror or terror” in comic titles and banned the depiction of “walking dead, torture, vampires and vampirism, ghouls, cannibalism, and werewolfism.” Now societal backlash is whipped up by politicians over "wokeness, " Black history, and LGBTQ education. 

Pracht shows us that Judge Murphy’s thumbs up or down was at times capricious and idiosyncratic - as formalized censorship always is and must be. The comic-styled program for the show draws a connection to the surge in attempts to banned books, including graphic novels, in schools and libraries today.

While aspects of the various personal human dramas play out in overdrawn melodrama, perhaps this is in keeping with the subject as well. Regardless, this is a highly recommended show, which runs through October 8 at City Lit Theater, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr in Chicago.

Do not see THE CRUCIBLE to unwind after a hard week. Do not take a blind date to THE CRUCIBLE. If you couldn’t get tickets to Second City, do not attend THE CRUCIBLE as a backup. But in any other circumstances whatsoever, DO see THE CRUCIBLE at Invictus Theatre.

Even if you didn’t read it in school you’ve probably heard the story: Arthur Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953 about the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93 in protest against McCarthyism. It still holds relevance today: the struggle to maintain critical thought processes in response to inflammatory public hyperbole … oh, yeah. Been there, done that.

Even simply reading the play is disquieting; brought to life on the stage THE CRUCIBLE is gut-wrenching, especially when well-played. And at Invictus it is well-played indeed. To echo the Buzz Center Stage review of a recent production: ‘I have to keep reminding myself this is a storefront theatre.”

I adore Chicago’s tiny storefront theatres; seeing the play while sharing the cast’s pheromone cloud greatly enhances the experience for me. Invictus is among the tiniest, with only 50-odd seats. I was in the front row and nearly had an actor catapulted into my lap at least twice. Mounting THE CRUCIBLE on such a miniscule stage is courageous, to say the least, and for anyone else it would be foolhardy. For Invictus it’s just the latest instance of achieving the inconceivable and doing it brilliantly.

Credit must begin with Charles Askenaizer, Artistic Director of Invictus and Director of THE CRUCIBLE. It would be easy for the frenzied activity to degenerate into a general brouhaha, but Askenaizer keeps the action crisp and focused, allowing the primary actors to perform without dissolving into the fracas.

Of course, he had the finest materials to work with: the cast was outstanding, every one, from the leads to understudy Steve Connell stepping in as Francis Nurse.  Managing a cast of nineteen certainly demands assistance, ably provided by Assistant Director Donica Lynn, Production Manager Todd Henry Faulstich and Stage Manager Gabby Rooney. And Amber Wutke certainly had plenty to do as Fight/Intimacy Designer & Movement Choreographer!

L-R: Michaela Voit (Abigal Williams), Frank Nall (Giles Corey), Joseph Beal (Reverend Parris), Lea Grace Biwer (Betty Parris), Charlie Diaz (Reverend Hale), Mike Cherry (Thomas Putnam), Laura Coleman (Ann Putnam), Barbara Roeder Harris (Rebecca Nurse). Photo credit: Through Line Studios.

Costume Designer/Wardrobe Manager Jessie Gowens did a superb job, adding intriguing (and no doubt authentic) details onto the severe Puritan garb. I was fascinated by the wide quilted sleeves and the double rank of buttons on Deputy Governor Danforth’s coat. 

One of Scenic Designer Kevin Rolfs’ brilliant adaptations to the limited space backstage was to keep most of the cast on the stage throughout, only retiring to opposite rows of hard straight-backed chairs when leaving a scene. From there they could serve as a modified Greek chorus: singing, hollering and finger-pointing to remind us that this lunacy infects the entire town. 

Props Designer Sam Paulson, Sound Designer Petter Wahlback, Lighting Designer Chad Lussier and Box Office Manager Steve Nordmark round out a truly extraordinary team creating a truly phenomenal production. Bravo!

As noted, the cast was massive and though each individual played their part irreproachably I can only comment specifically on a few, whom I’ll introduce by telling the story.

We begin in the woods with a circle of young women being led in a primitive, frenzied dance by Caribbean slavewoman Tituba  (LaTorious R Givens). Tituba furtively slips a mysterious drink to Betty Parris (Lea Grace Biwer), who begins to rave and convulse until collapsing into a coma. The screams of the frightened girls attract her father The Reverend Parris (Joseph Beal), a preacher who is far more ambitious than spiritual; he is both panicked and outraged by the spectacle. The girls, fearing the Pastor, turn on Tituba, saying she cast a spell on the girl.

The pusillanimous rector is horrified to learn the story has spread like wildfire through the entire town, with a widespread conviction that Lucifer is afoot. Parris, unnerved by these slights to his (illusory) good name, summons witchcraft expert Reverend John Hale (Charlie Diaz), who insists to the end that nonesuch is operating in Salem.

Mark Pracht is amazing as John Proctor, the local farmer who manages to maintain his integrity. Proctor is a decent, though flawed, man who sincerely loves both his wife and his God but evades hypocrisy by seldom attending Parris’ church. Pracht reveals Proctor as intelligent and insightful enough to differentiate God from religion and to penetrate the disguise of ordainment, seeing the clergy – Parris in particular – for what they truly are. His loyal friend and fellow skeptic Giles Corey is brought vividly to life by Frank Nall.

Devon Carson plays Proctor’s wife Elizabeth so skillfully that we understand and sympathize with the subtle currents of her mind and her heart. She loves her husband dearly, but can’t resist using that love to torment him – as wives of that time, lacking other dominion, were wont to do. Carson gives us a full view of Elizabeth’s development and maturation over time. Excellent acting and superb direction let us literally see the moment when Tituba recognizes ‘I have power here, I can take control’, and deflects the accusations onto Abigail Williams (Michaela Voit). Likewise, we can clearly see Mary choosing the opposite course and deciding to take the blame on herself rather than give Mary up to the inquisitors.

 As we would say today, the recriminations, allegations, insinuations and accusations go viral and the whisper network renders them ever more specious and malicious. I ultimately lost track of who was accusing whom of what, and I suspect the characters did as well. The arrest of honest Goody [‘Goodwife’] Nurse, played by Barbara Roeder Harris, makes clear the situation has descended from outrageous to grotesque.

Into this bedlam struts Deputy Governor Danforth. Danforth is a self-righteous bastard, in love with his own limitless sovereignty and equating it to that of God himself. What Deputy Governor Danforth says, is. I purely loved James Turano in this role! which he plays with both vivacity and subtlety. Clearly Governor Danforth relishes the opportunity to flaunt his distinction: a prestigious trial with copious defendants to browbeat and countless openings for thundering, Scripture-laden speechification – what’s not to love? And Turano himself is clearly having a ball with the role. I had a word with him after the show where he confirmed, “it’s always fun being the villain.” 

So … this is pretty much it for my review, but if you’ll hang in with me I’d like to take a moment to wax philosophic on THE CRUCIBLE and what makes it a classic. Start with the title: a crucible is a vessel in a refining fire where precious substances are tested, purified, and strengthened. And indeed the trial demonstrated how our legal system has been strengthened by erecting safeguards: spouses need not testify against each other; the defendant is protected from self-incrimination [‘the Fifth’]; each litigant is represented by an advocate; hearsay is not admissible as evidence. Our system still clings, however, to the final decision on clemency resting with the governor rather than the judge. Deputy Governor Danforth shows us just how precarious this may be.

Miller wrote THE CRUCIBLE in 1953, in the midst of the McCarthy hearings and just eight years after the fall of the Nazi party, so peoples’ responses to an evil situation was a natural theme. Most discussions of THE CRUCIBLE assume the evil situation is the trials themselves, forgetting that Massachusetts was also in the midst of the terrifying French and Indian Wars. The Rev. George Burroughs writes of the Candlemas Massacres, ‘God is still manifesting his displeasure against this Land’; a sentiment with clear impact on the Salem Witch Trials. One wonders why Miller, himself traumatized by war and a harrowing political atmosphere, did not more fully examine the settlers’ traumas.

Debate continues over just what happened to the young girls in Salem, historically as well as in fiction. ‘Faking it’ is just too simplistic. Some have suggested ergot poisoning –  hallucinogenic mold in the bread – but then why only those particular girls?

Another, more plausible theory is a psychogenic disorder called mass conversion, in which anxiety, whatever its cause, is so extreme that they unconsciously convert their mental anguish to physical symptoms. The Salem populace was living under the strain of both a hideous and bloody war and, more to the point, the omnipresent threat of witchcraft; with equally dire risks of accusation and of being a target: “She killed my babies!” wails a townswoman. In mass conversion disorder, long-term stress converts messages from the brain to the muscles, expressing anxiety as twitching, shaking, garbled speech, and trance states.

This link to trauma is not demonstrated in Miller’s play. In the 1950s psychiatry was not well understood, particularly by the general public; the diagnosis of conversion disorder had not yet been described. Miller himself was also probably experiencing his own anxiety symptoms from the chronic stressors of WWI, the economic collapse following it, and the persecutory atmosphere generated by McCarthyism. He may have sought to relieve his anxiety symptoms by creating THE CRUCIBLE – as artists are wont to do.

Thanks for hanging in with me in my digression, but let me not forget the paramount message: THE CRUCIBLE IS VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! Should you miss this production (playing through June 11 at Reginald Vaughn Theatre 1106 W Thorndale Ave in Chicago), first kick yourself, then remember that Invictus is a safe bet for quality theatre, whatever is playing.

From the Director’s Note:

I couldn’t help thinking of Pastor Martin Niemoller’s quote from his reflections on the Holocaust:

First they came for the socialists, but I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.

One by one, the town is ‘purified of witches’ until cows wander aimlessly along the roads and untended crops rot in the fields. Soon there is no one left to speak out about the injustices or take the time to rationally think about the accusations made. Soon all that is left are empty chairs and silence.

Imagine some not too distant in the future totalitarian society where young people have never seen a book (much less a theatre play), computer screens had moved inside people’s heads, and language has so many technological terms, it’s barely recognizable. People work all the time, no one goes out anymore, and human interaction is reduced to a minimum. Luckily, mental health is well taken care of: everyone has a virtual psychologist and has to take “a pill”, just to cope. That’s the sad reality of Jason Hedrick’s two-act play ‘Vanya On the Plains,’ staged at The Artistic Home Theatre under the direction of Kayla Adams.

The play takes place in a house where an extended family co-habits without much interaction with each other: a 79 year old patriarch of the family, Elijah, his mad daughter, Anka (Katherine Schwartz), and two teenage grandkids (Sophia and Nicolas), as well as Elija’s mother-in-law, Gayle, and Anka’s boyfriend, Carl.  Gayle (superbly played by Kathy Scambiatterra) is very old; she is possibly just a ghost, since most characters just ignore her. But she is the breath of fresh air in that dreadful place: flamboyant and outspoken, and completely void of technocratic influences- it’s as if she’s been plucked out of some old, long forgotten reality. Gayle does like to drink quite a bit of vodka, but who wouldn’t. The entire house is like a perverse tea party: everyone’s mad in their own way. 

Many colorful characters keep the [slightly too lengthy play] entertaining. Special mention of great young talent Ariana Lopez (as Sophia), who added sparkles to the play.

When wise and bookish Elijah (wonderfully intuitive acting by Frank Nall) has a bright idea to “humanize” those around him by staging Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” at his house and making everyone act in the play, the rehearsals that would go on for years will have eventually become the much needed therapy for that crazy family. 

‘Vanya on the Plains is being performed at The Artistic Home Theatre. For more info visit www.theartistichome.org.

Before he was Twilight Zone’s scriptwriter and frontman, Rod Serling broke through with the 1956 teleplay of Requiem for a Heavyweight, a powerful noire telling of a boxer on his way down. This work was originally broadcast live in black and white, and starred Jack Palance, Keenan Wynn, and Kim Hunter. In those days it was performed just once, and in this case the lone recording is of moderate quality. 

Putting such a teleplay onto the stage is transformative for the work. The audience is not limited to the camera’s viewpoint, but it tests the writing and of course, the performances. We can report that Artistic Theater’s production is absolutely first rate – first and foremost because it is very well cast, with a staggeringly good performance by Mark Pracht as Harlan “Mountain” McClintock. Pracht seems born for this role, as he is both a mountain of a man, and carefully expresses Serling's portrait of a Tennessee country boy who has taken way too many punches.

This is also a tragedy, in the Greek sense – Mountain had risen to become a contender for world heavyweight champion, but began to decline before he could get there. Like any tragic hero, he is thwarted by an antagonist: his manager, Maish Resnick (Patrick Thornton), who has skimmed profit from Mountain during his rise. Now as Mountain loses more than he wins, Maish plays a deceitful game – which creates the turning point in the play’s resolution.

Thornton is full throttle in this role, playing convincingly enough that you will come to loathe him. But even more forceful and compelling is the performance of Todd Wojcik as Army, as Mountain’s trainer and constant wingman. Wojcik’s performance is freighted with emotion and empathy, and will touch your heart.

There are a several other colorful characters in this cast, hustlers on the make that Serling drew from his own experience as a boxer. And we have a chorus of lower-level boxers and trainers, and thugs. These characters enact stylized boxer training interludes that are very powerful. And though each has a small part, it makes for a stunning effect overall. The set is a simple canvas platform – the ring – and the audience is seated around it, in a very intimate space.

There are just two female figures in Requiem, and both seem bound to be stereotypes of a 1950s male psyche: Golda (Laura Coleman), a “dame with a bad reputation” and Maish’s main squeeze. “What are you doing vertical; is there a recession on?” Maish asks her, in a reference it’s hard to imagine got through the censors.

The other female role is more substantial – Grace Carney (Annie Hogan), an employment agent who falls for Mountain as she tries to help him transition from boxing to something new. Hogan’s performance mines the role for all the meaning it can bear, and she is a strong heroine against the dastardly Maish. Her character in Requiem for a Heavyweight foreshadows another woman who supported Rocky years later.

The teleplay was influential enough to warrant a British TV version starring Sean Connery with a cameo by Michael Caine, and was turned into a 1962 film featuring Anthony Quinn in the lead. As a genre, teleplays are memories, but perhaps they foretold Netflix and Amazon movie productions. Teleplays have been tremendously influential – think of 12 Angry Men, Marty, The Days of Wine & Roses – all originated as live television productions.

Requiem for a Heavyweight is a great show, and a theatrical event. Running through March 31, there are just 50 seats per performance, so it is highly recommended you plan to attend at The Artistic Home on Grand Avenue in Chicago. 

If you don’t already know about the 16th Street Theater in Berwyn, now’s a great time to check it out. For ten years, the Equity company run by Ann Filmer in the basement of the Berwyn Cultural Center has endeavored to produce high-quality work for an affordable price while paying artists fairly, and for this anniversary season, they’re reviving several of their hits as staged readings (I can personally recommend Yasmina’s Necklace). As for the current mainstage production, Blizzard ’67 by local playwright Jon Steinhagen is an expertly crafted character study in a setting familiar to every Chicagoan of a certain age, but is easily accessible to those whom the blizzard long predates.

The play begins a few days before the January 26th blizzard with the characters breaking the fourth wall to introduce themselves to us in a narrative device, which Steinhagen will return to a few times over the evening. In this early segment, the audience chuckles knowingly along with the four men in a carpool as they marvel over how quickly Illinois weather can go from 65 degrees to dropping two feet of snow. That humor is a necessity for keeping the audience’s interest, too, because calling our characters creatures of their era is about the nicest thing which can be said about them.

Four steel chairs represent the car Lanfield (Mark Pracht) drives his co-workers in. They alternate four times a year, and Lanfield’s functional alcoholism and his car’s faulty radio and horn gain him no reprieve from his duties. Riding with him are Henkin (Stephen Spencer), a bachelor rising in the company, family man Bell (Noah Simon), and young new guy Emery (Christian Stokes). They are not friends. Emery claims he can see that Henkin’s recent promotion is simply a meaningless carrot the bosses wave in front of them, but Lanfield is seething with jealous insecurity and stokes Bell’s low-key dissatisfaction, as well. Henkin is unapologetic about doing “well” and Emery internally debates whether siding with him or Lanfield would be more advantageous.

Besides making up for in paper-thin egos what they lack in social skills and self-awareness, our characters have very little in their lives which gives them any happiness, and our look into their home lives earns them a bit of pity. Bell is luckier than the others in that he at least as a child he loves and is loved by. Emery has a doting father who has provided him with everything and a new wife; even if his life is disappointing now, there’s reason to expect it will get better. Lanfield is an emotional mess but has a wife who nurses him while enabling his self-destruction. Henkin’s loneliness is a more subtle kind of sadness, and one more easily hidden under affected disdain. When the men are caught in the sudden blizzard as a result of preferring the risk of commuting home to the certain misery of sharing a room, they are thrown into crises. In a moment of panic, three abandon the fourth, and are left to confront their mounting horror and disgust at how far they are from how they perceived themselves.

Sometime after Blizzard ’67, Steinhagen wrote The Devil’s Day Off, which was performed by Signal Ensemble in 2014 and depicted the consequences of a heat wave in Chicago. Whether Blizzard ‘67’s script was revised after that I do not know, but Steinhagen has developed a formidable skill at writing characters in extreme, but easily recognizable, situations. However, while The Devil’s Day Off was written to give the actors and director as much latitude as possible, Blizzard ’67 thrives on its specificity. Filmer guides her four actors seamlessly from the satirical tone at the play’s opening to the harrowing meditations at its end. Her direction and Steinhagen’s script draw us into the characters’ lack of closure, making us suffer prolonged tension along with them in the play’s second act. Assisting in this is the minimal design, with a brutal grey set by Grant Sabin, cold lights by Benjamin White, projections with the slightest dream-like edge by Anthony Churchill, evocative weather sound-effects by Barry Bennett, and period and character-appropriate costumes by Rachel Sypniewski.

Even so, the four actors are, of course, the pillars on whom the play rests, and each provides a full portrait of a man mired in his own different kind of frustration. While Bell may be the most conventionally likeable, each has petty weaknesses and aspirations we can easily identify with. Spencer, in particular, does stand-out work, as he not only plays Henkin, but also has to transform himself into several other characters who are treated seriously by the narrative. Wisely, he and Filmer have not attempted to be completely illusionary with this, but give us a good enough idea of a bartender and a close relative of each of the other characters for us to understand how they relate to each other. For the most part, the relationships are very troubled, and what makes Blizzard ’67 interesting on a level deeper than mere nostalgia for the blizzard is its examination of a failure of people to value each other. It takes a televised speech by Richard J. Daley, of all people, for the characters to realize what the true source of their unhappiness is. Those of us today with more satisfactory work environments, families, and friendships may come away grateful for how far things have come, and remember to safeguard mundane kindnesses and our consciousness of others.

Highly Recommended

Blizzard ’67 is being performed at 6420 16th St in Berwyn, Illinois. Running time is two hours, with one intermission. Tickets may be purchased at 16thstreettheater.org. Admission is $18-22.

Performances are Thursdays-Fridays at 7:30 pm (often with a post-show discussion) and Saturdays at 4:00 and 8:00 pm now extended through March 4th. Parking is available for free in the lot at 16th and Gunderson.