Displaying items by tag: Nicole Wiesner

Trapdoor Theatre’s “The Cuttlefish” ought to be confounding, but somehow this 1920’s surrealist play from Poland is clear as a bell. Though ostensibly about the philosophical struggle between art and politics, the audience easily recognized echoes of the present-day overall fix in which society finds itself.

Before any dialog, even before house lights go down, “The Cuttlefish, or the Hyrcanian Worldview” (its full title) opens somewhat bewilderingly on a stage with four characters: a masked, gold-clad Statue of Alice D’Or (Keith Surney), whose postures beside a short classic stone column suggest a Greek sculpture. Further backstage is a high ranking church cleric in mitre and liturgical robes, gesturing spiritually—Pope Julius II (Emily Lotspeich), patron of Raphael and Michelangelo. Stage left, a figure in a suit slouches and periodically collapses against a wall, the artist Pavel Rockhoffer (Nicole Wiesner). And a woman wanders, hands outspread—the Mother (Venice Averyheart) of Rockhoffer, who settles into a seat and manages percussion.

What is going on? The audience puzzles through these characters, trying to make sense of the silent tableau, and the lights go down and dialog begins. Rockhoffer has become pessimistic about his creative works, which we learn have been condemned by a government council. “My art is a lie, a carefully planned hoax,” says Rockhoffer.

“Even prisoners serving a life sentence still want to live,” the Statue offers. Along the way Julius remarks, “A man without a worthy adversary is like God without Satan,” and leaving, offers “I wish you a short and unexpected death.” With very little naturalism or conventional exposition, these snippets reveal the conflict that is to be resolved by the end of “The Cuttlefish.”

But it is with the arrival of King Hyrcan IV (David Lovejoy) when the story comes alive. A villainous despot, he smooth-talks Rockhoffer, coaxing him to abandon his dedication to absolute artistic ideals, and come on over to pragmatic freedom of Hyrcania, the land he rules.

Lovejoy is an energetic force on stage, and brings the play to life. “I am a superman, or ‘an uber mensch’” King Hyrcan declares, convincingly. He offers to unchain the artist from historic patronage of entities like Julius, and to have full freedom.
“What do you believe in?” queries Rockhoffer.

“In myself,” King Hyrcan shoots back, and as inexorably as the manosphere today sucks in its lost, wandering adherents, Rockhoffer, after a bit of resistance, falls under his spell. He obeys when Hyrcan tells him to jettison his fiance Ella (Gus Thomas), as unfitting for the new Hyrcanian order. King Hyrcan works his wiles on a weakened Julius, who admits to doubt and crumbles too.

As the action unfolds and the plot thickens, it becomes clearer that the times prophesied by “The Cuttlefish,” which unfolded in the rise of fascist Germany, offer parallels to today —when cultural centers are being expropriated and renamed, arts funding cancelled, and freedom of expression curtailed.

The magic of Trap Door is its penchant for mining an obscure work of 1920s playwright Stanislaw Witkiewicz (translated by Daniel Gerould) to find a work that is regarded as a precursor to later absurdist and expressionist stage works in the 1930s. Under the direction of Nicole Wiesner, what might have been an inscrutable drama instead is intuitively understandable. As we laugh with relief at the line, “One can only hope” (the Mother’s interjection about the end of such terrible times), we may be reminded of Kurt Vonnegut’s advice: “The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.”

“The Cuttlefish, or the Hyrcanian Worldview” runs through April 25 at Chicago’s Trap Door Theatre and comes recommended.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

For the final show of its 30th anniversary season, Trap Door Theatre—the little company that could—has selected a sure-fire hit with a production of “Nana,” a play based on the 19th century melodrama about an actress and bordello courtesan, Nana, by French author Emile Zola.

Adapted for the stage by the late Olwen Wymark, and co-directed by choreographer Miguel Long and managing director Nicole Weisner, this reimagining of the original 2002 production at the tiny theater—tucked away behind a restaurant at 1655 W. Cortland—was flawless on opening night. It’s a cabaret style musical, and the premise of the story gives us a Parisian cabaret that doubles as a bordello, allowing occasions for song and dance that fit the storyline perfectly.

As the audience arrives, the actors are already in character, welcoming us as patrons of the establishment. At curtain time, the anticipation builds among onstage patrons—mostly emotionally overwrought, palavering males—all hoping for a glance of recognition from Nana when she arrives.

After this artful build-up, which heightens the expectation of the audience as well, drapes are snapped opened for the big reveal: Nana (Maryam Abdi is miraculous) emerges on a swing as a vision of Venus—long blonde tresses, and a gossamer robe opened to barely cover her breasts, minimally hidden by glittery clamshell pasties. It’s all very nineteenth century, and the men fit exactly in our expectations of swooning romantic gestures salted with salacious innuendo.

Amber Washington in "Nana"at Trap Door Theatre through May 19. 

We also meet the coterie of sophisticated ladies in orbit around Nana. There is Sabine (Amber Washington) just too too, all wrapped in a gorgeous gown and chapeau, waving a cigarette holder while delivering bon mots and pithy observations. And her dresser Zoe (Emily Lotspeich), who carefully manages the arrivals of suitors, parceling them out to every room until Nana’s apartment is filled. And Satin (Emily Nicholson), Nana’s BFF and occupying the same role, just at a lower echelon than our diva.
The song and dance numbers were quite good, and flawlessly performed.

Dan Cobbler, Emily Nichelson, and Emily Lotspeich in "Nana" at Trap Door Theatre through May 18, 2024.

Always in need of cash, Nana is pursued by a chorus of snarling creditors, who snarl in unison, to powerful effect on stage.Yet there is a substantial core to Zola's story: Nana, as she rises in stature as the object of desire for wealthy men, extorts them in their ardor, then walks all over them when their funds are depleted. She does this with greater rapidity, yet their generosity never falters. For example, Steiner (David Lovejoy is terrific) has given her a country retreat amid a high society and royal enclave, yethe never receives thanks or very much of Nana’s attention, who only escalates her demands for cash and orders this paramour to surrender his own key to the house he bought for Nana.

Indeed, Nana plays all her many suitors to the limit, relenting only enough when she senses she has pushed too far, an incredibly adept dominatrix.

Yet amid all this, Nana has a private life, and we learn where her earnings go. She retains her maiden aunt (Tia Pinson is the essence of propriety) to care for her infant. And she also has a significant other, Fanton (Caleb Lee Jenkins is the playful, yet mercenary scoundrel). We soon see that Fanton does to Nana what she does to her suitors, though far worse, as he is also physically abusive.

Nana, whose reputation has preceded her, is rejected by the "polite" society around her country home, though local suitors visit surreptitiously. And ultimately, Nana  meets her fated downfall in full expression of melodramatic justice. 

Costumes (Rachel Sypniewski) are spectacular, as are wids (Igor Shashkin) and make-up (Zsofia Otvos). Most amazing in this Trap Door Theatre production is the performance of Maryam Abdi as Nana. Abdi dominates her suitors, and the stage. She is fully in the role, inhabiting Nana’s character in a star-is-born delivery that would fit comfortably in an Off-Broadway, or even Broadway. So too for the entire cast. The Trap Door Theatre has outdone itself with “Nana,” a jewel in its 30th season celebration. “Nana” runs through May 19 at Trap Door Theatre, 1655 W. Cortland St. in Chicago.

*Extended through May 25th

As Chicago stages turn to Dickens and Tchaikovsky, you can find darker but equally fun fare in Trap Door Theatre’s high-flying production, The White Plague. This imaginative, high-energy show brings us the black-gowned denizens of a futuristic nation in the throes of a plague, with rising fascism and an imminent war as backdrop.

The story is drawn from “The White Disease,” Czech author Karel Capek’s 1937 play (it was also a film by Hugo Haas), sometimes characterized as an absurdist work.

What Trap Door does with this the material is rather miraculous – with the ethos of Terry Gilliam’s "Brazil," it conjures an engrossing tale of a leprosy-like flesh-eating plague afflicting those 45 and older. Terms like "Pandemic" and "Peking Virus" are shouted among the populace. "Death follows in three months - mainly from sepsis," intones one expert solemnly, calling it the "Leprosy of Licentiousness." I had to remind myself this is long before AIDs, because public reactions to its spread were strikingly similar. 

The action takes place in a fascist state (Germany?) where Sigelius (Dennis Bisto) has been running a clinic that is treating the well-to-do as the disease spreads. But he treats just their symptoms, salving their pus-filled sores with ointments that mask the putrid smells, while his minions continue research on a real cure in the laboratory. In a nod to Capek’s robots, Sigelius’s aids, First Assistant (David Lovejoy) and Second Assistant (Emily Nicholson) are Cyborg-like automatons who must dock to recharge when emotions overwhelm them.

Then arrives Dr. Galen (Keith Surney), who has developed a real cure, which he is ready to test on a broader basis. Sigelius, fearful of losing this well-heeled clientele to a real cure, allows Dr. Galen to test his life-saving meds only on the indigent patients, housed, as one might expect, in Ward XIII. Dr. Galen also provides a moral center for the play's action, as he has been asking himself why, as a doctor, he treats people only to see them wounded and killed in war. He is angry about the complicity of his medical profession in war efforts in general. "Preaching against war is against our national interest," Sigelius advises him, but Dr. Galen is unconvinced.

The play also brings us a more middle-class family, and we meet Mother (Robin Minkens, above) and Father (Michael Mejia) and their children who have more conventional struggles with the disease. Minkens and Mejia have developed believable characters who are also caricatures. Mejia does double duty as the conflicted and compromised Commissar, who is loathe to leave his high stature post, even though it will help spread the cure. Likewise, Minkens becomes someone else altogether, as the dictator Baron Krug, and resists giving up her office for the same reasons. 

Soon enough we encounter the powerful leather-clad Marshal (Marzena Bukowska), in steampunk choker and flare collar, riding roughshod over the land, readying the nation for war. Bukowska and Bisto deliver inspired performances, as surely Jeff-worthy as anything I have seen this season. Marshal is the military apparatchik of the dictator Baron Krug. Both drive the war machine.

This rendering of The White Plague is liberally adapted from the spirit of Capek’s script, by director Nicole Wiesner, who says presenting a literal translation would be difficult to follow. Unlike Western Europe and North America, “In Eastern Europe, the director is freer to adapt,” Wiesner says. Capek with his brother Josef were known as science fiction authors, and claim fame for originating the word “Robot” in their other play, a 1920 work called R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots).

Such works, along with a focus on other European scripts, are the métier of Trap Door – which is celebrated for its wide-ranging dramaturgy (credit to Milan Ribisic for this show). The scene design, Plexiglas and voile partitions by J.Michael Griggs, is intentionally minimalist, but director Wiesner amps up the show by keeping actors on stage throughout (80 minutes, no intermission). Each character periodically retreats behind these see-through partitions, and becomes part of the set, creating a mosaic, miming and mugging in their multiple character roles. Also notable - the sound design by Danny Rockett, who rehearsed assiduously with the cast to achieve precision timing to match blocking and scene changes. Rockett's sound score is on par with the best. 

The character’s on stage are individual personalities, but some like Sigelius and Dr. Galen represent archetypes. These two joust with each other not just verbally, but in psychic power struggles where each bests the other in telekinetic trials much like Dr. Strange - a theatrical expression of role-play type board games.

Highly recommended, The White Plague runs through January 11 at Trap Door Theatre, 1655 W. Cortland in Chicago.