Displaying items by tag: Promethean Theatre Ensemble

How is it possible that a 19th Century play by George Bernard Shaw could be so on trend for today? Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s production of Mrs. Warren’s Profession is just that, examining the limitations women faced in careers - steeply limited in those days - and hurdles they faced in establishing an independent life, outside of marriage or household servant.

But just as importantly, Mrs. Warren’s Profession brings us a breakthrough performance by Elaine Carlson in the role of Mrs. Kitty Warren, the wealthy proprietress of a collection of boutique brothel hotels in England and abroad. Carlson brings us a fully developed character, and has plumbed every nook and cranny of Kitty Warren’s emotional make-up. The result is a powerful performance, one that knocked me off my feet. Carlson so fully inhabits the role that we no longer see the actress, we see Kitty Warren.

Shaw can be challenging - his plays are talky, and serious, full of big thoughts and intellectual jousting. In this production, the script has been adapted by Melanie Spewock, who “streamlines Shaw’s text and makes it more woman-centric.” Directed by Michael D. Graham, Shaw is given an effective expression here. Purists may not like it, but I did. 

The story revolves around a visit by Mrs. Warren’s daughter, Vivie Warren (Corrie Riedl) to see her mother while on break from school. But the two don’t really know each other - Vivie was raised at boarding schools - and Kitty, in late middle age, is hoping to build a relationship with her daughter. Vivie takes umbrage once she discovers the nature of her mother’s enterprise, and is shamed by the fact it has funded her upbringing and schooling.

But then Shaw, through Kitty, makes a passionate defense of her position as a madame, describing her poverty, limited options to make a living, and providing Vivie for the first time a window into her mother’s back story. “It can’t be right that there is no other opportunity for a girl,” Kitty Warren says. 

Written so well by Shaw in Spewock’s version, and delivered so forcefully by Elaine Carlson as Kitty Warren, Vivie embraces her mother’s choices - and so does the audience. Kitty Warren notes that young women are encouraged to work in dangerous factories or in shops for starvation wages by clergymen, who condemn prostitution. But the economics argue in favor of it. 

“Where would we be if we minded the clergyman’s foolishness,” Kitty says. An appreciation guide for this production, which estimates there were 8,000 to 80,000 English sex workers, provides a backgrounder on the censorship of the play by English authorities. Written in 1893, Mrs. Warren's Profession wasn't fully produced in England until 1925.

There is much more to this story - suitors for Vivie, lots of dirty laundry aired, including uncertainty about who Vivie’s father is. You must watch the rest of the story unfold on stage. As always Promethean delivers the goods. And it is all about the performances. Mrs. Warren's Profession runs through March 29 at Otherworld Theatre, 3914 N. Clark St. in Chicago.

In its opening scene, Blue Stockings sets us in a bustling 19th century train station, the crowd swirling quickly by, then shifting to slo-mo – just like a digital film – highlighting characters who soon become principal players in the action.

That cinematic touch seems to be used more frequently on stage, and underscores the growing crossover of film and stage. In fact, Blue Stockings - the true story of the struggle by 19th century British women for access to college degrees - is now being adapted for a television series by Jessica Swale from her 2013 script, which won a Most Promising Playwright award when it debuted at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.

So this is a wonderful opportunity to see a significant work by a rising writer (Swale has two other movies in development). It is very well directed and produced by Spenser Davis for Promethean Theatre Ensemble (at the Den Theatre through October 13).

Following that opening scene, we quickly cut (movie style) to a foretaste of a future scene, where guest lecturer Dr. Maudsley (Jared Dennis) is holding forth:
“Except if theywith to sacrifice themselves, the higher education of women may be detrimental to their physiology,” he posits, noting the women who pursue education are of four types: scientists, mathematicians, writers, and “wealthy dilettantes” the latter known at the time as “Blue Stockings.”

When he reappears, Dr. Maudsley will also lecture on hysteria, “rooted in the Greek for ‘uterus’” he reminds the students. As preposterous as such assertions sound today, it was in fact exactly the type of “scientifically grounded” basis on which men objected to equality for women. “These are not opinions,” Dr. Maudsley says, “they are facts of nature proven by science.” And this sets the basis for the tension and drama that follow.

Girton College was founded in 1869 as the first of Cambridge University’s 31 colleges to admit women. By 1896, when Blue Stockings takes place, women also began agitating to vote – then restricted to males, just like the U.S. You may not need to know all the background to appreciate the play, but it helps – since Swale confronts us with the unbelievably bald misogyny of the period. These sentiments still infiltrate current debates, so revisiting them in Blue Stockings is instructive.

Girton’s headmistress, Elizabeth Welsh (Jamie Bragg), has been working steadfastly for decades to raise the stature of women’s education, arguing for the right to award degrees. Blue Stockings follows the action culminating in an 1896 vote by the all-male Oxford University Senate. But the men on campus, students and professors, found the prospect of women earning degrees just like men but threatening and perverse.

Promethean Theatre has developed a wonderful “Appreciation Guide” to provide background for the play. And I must admit, watching it with no with no factual context made me think of it more as a PBS-style costume drama, like Dowton Abbey – interesting, but not gripping. Being reminded that the Cambridge Senate voted down the degrees measure, and women were not awarded Cambridge degrees until 1948 (!) makes it matter much more.

Swale gives us another mark of a good playwright, with a host of distinct and memorable characters, and an entertaining story line, too. Girton lecturer Mr. Banks (Patrick Blashill) is that inspiring and nurturant educator who helps reorder the women students’ thinking. He has them dress in bloomers (those billowy 19th century pants) and teaches them to ride a bicycle, astride no less. (In real life, this happened, and the male students protesting women’s degrees burned in effigy a woman on a bicycle.)

With 19th century co-education comes the first challenges of keeping the young men and women safely separated, and all the efforts college students engineer to circumvent that control. Swale Tess (Heather Kae Smith) plays an everywoman student, a gifted mathematician and astrophysicist. The women student performances overall were far stronger than their male counterparts. For the first time society proffers a choice for her between romantic love and the life of a mind.

Swale shows this up to be a false choice from a male-dominated society. With the right man, she can have both. Among noteworthy performances are Jamie Bragg as schoolmistress Elizabeth Welsh; Cameron Feagin as Miss Blake, a lecturer and active suffragist; Patrick Blashill as Mr. Banks and Jared Dennis as Dr. Maudsley. Blue Stockings runs through October 13 at The Den Theatre in Chicago.

Promethean Theatre Ensemble has brought to stage a very good production of Mad, Beat, Hip & Gone, a play that is a riff on the Beat Generation literary movement – specifically drawing from Jack Kerouac’s 1957 novel, On the Road.

The script by Steve Dietz (Private Eyes) adopts aspects of the free-form writing style Kerouac called “spontaneous prose." Some of Kerouac’s works were drafted in days-long, Benzedrine-fueled writing jags. He famously typed on paper rolls fed continuously through his Underwood typewriter.

Kerouac’s On the Road tells of two young guys thumbing westward in the late 1940’s, on the make, and in search of themselves – aiming to join the Beat’s congregating in San Francisco. (These two guys would be the real life Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassaday, his buddy and fellow writer.) Like Hemingway before him, Kerouac also brought a macho flair to the pursuit of writing – he was a college football star and outdoorsman.

Mad, Beat, Hip & Gone similarly tells of two buddies who have recently graduated from high school in Nebraska – Danny Fergus (Pat King) and Rich Rayburn (Michael Vizzi), who end up on a similar sojourn, but for very different reasons. We meet the boys on their return from a local bar, where Danny was thwarted in his effort to pick up a girl when the real Jack Kerouac (unseen in the play) wows her with some spontaneous poetry – and gets her phone number. "What's the deal with guys like that," asks an astonished Danny. 

On the Road is widely considered a seminal work of 20th Century American literature. Artists including Bob Dylan, Patti Smith, and The Doors credit Kerouac as a significant influence. And successive generations continue to rediscover Kerouac’s accomplishment in this and other writing such as Dharma Bums. Kerouac incorporates stream of consciousness, but with a sufficiently structured plot to bring us along on a story line.

Dietz trades on Kerouac’s tone, but delivers an interesting plot line to hold our attention – working in the back story of Danny and Rich to create a motivation as they depart on a road trip very much paralleling Kerouac’s, but for more personal reasons. (We’ll avoid a spoiler here.) Dietz also captures the post-World War II world where young American’s were hungry for purpose, and seeking themselves.

You don't need to know Kerouac at all to like this play. Dietz has mined the times and developed characters who express the views Kerouac would recognize.Danny's father, Albert Fergus (Ted Hoerl) who runs a gas station, hold's forth on automobiles and their role in the American dream. He sounds poetic, like Kerouac, calling the gas and car a sacrament. 

"A car was a little house you could take along with you," he says. "In a house, your window is your fate. In your car, your window is your vision." 

Kerouac, along with poet Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and William S. Burrough’s The Beat Generation were the seminal literary expressions of non-conformist movement that came to life after World War II, accompanied by free-form jazz, drug experimentation, and sexual liberation. This evolved into the hippie movement, and the continued streams of social change (and reactions to these changes) that brought us to our charged contemporary social landscape.

Dietz uses poetic language that harkens to Kerouac’s style, which doesn’t always provide literal clarity. But it works. 

He also injects (a welcome anachronism given the period of Mad Beat Hip & Gone) a strong female character - Honey Vance (Hilary Williams) – who like the boys is searching for personal answers by hitchhiking to San Francisco. In Dietz’s storyline we are faced with the unconscious machismo that characters like Kerouac (and anti-heroes of the period like James Dean) represent. We also get some choice "Mrs. Robinson" moments between Danny’s mom, Mrs. Fergus (Elaine Carlson) and Rich – well played by Vizzi and Carlson. I especially liked Ted Hoerl as Danny’s Dad; and Hillary Williams’ peformance was excellent.

Strong performances and a script that channels Kerouac make this worthy show, definitely recommended to get a flavor of the period and a sense of how the Beat Generation was greeted by middle America. Promethean Ensemble’s Mad, Beat, Hip & Gone runs through June 1 at The Edge Theater Off Broadway, 1133 W Catalpa in Chicago.

Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, running through March 23 at Strawdog Theatre, is an exciting rendering of the courtroom battles that led to a fatal fall from grace for 19th century literary genius Oscar Wilde.

It is hard to imagine now, with the growing empowerment of the LGBT-plus community, that Wilde’s career was completely destroyed when his attraction to men was discovered and proven. He was sentenced to two years of hard labor, and he lost all his assets and his income, dying nearly destitute three years later.

Promethean Ensemble’s wonderful presentation of Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde (actually a revival of a 2016 production by these talented players), brings us playwright Moisés Kaufman’s 1997 debut work, which won an Outer Critics Circle Award for outstanding Off-Broadway play in New York.

The play has aged well, and is exceptionally well crafted, and carefully researched, drawing from court records, and liberally sprinkled with Wilde’s memorably entertaining expressions. It has all the power of a court room drama, and all the flair of Wilde’s colorful life and friends.

The Promethean Ensemble is in its element, with a work that is loaded with excellent language, and demanding versatility – as 8 actors take on more than 25 characters, plus Wilde. He was a great speaker and writer, and Jamie Bragg’s performance in the lead conveys his brilliant intellect, and great humor. The cast is large, and the characters plentiful – and while the casting includes several women playing men’s roles, gender identities disappear for the audience as soon as the performances commence.

Because it is a revival of an earlier production, with largely the same cast, Promethean hit the ground running even before opening night. Directed by Brian Pastor, the costumes by Uriel Gomez have a creative steam punk that cross the boundaries from 19th century to contemporary leather and safety pin fetishism. 

The first act describes Wilde’s creative world and his social circle, and at one point we leap to the present, as a scholar explains to a television interviewer that in his time, Wilde would not have conceived of himself as “gay,” but merely as a creative aesthete, who was unbound by contemporary mores and taboos, modeling himself after the ancient Greeks in his love for young men.

Wilde was “outed” by the Marquess of Queensbury, accusing him publicly of being homosexual in an effort to end Wilde’s relationship with his son, Lord Alfred Douglas. The Three Trials part follows from Wilde suing Queensbury for defamation, but losing when it was proven that he did have sex with men.

This evidence brought a new trial as Wilde was charged with "committing acts of gross indecency with other male persons," a crime against a recently adopted law. We see enacted the excellent defense mounted by Wilde’s lawyer. But the trial ended in a hung jury, and Wilde was convicted in the third trial, and went to prison.

Wilde’s reputation was reclaimed over the decades, largely by the power of his writing. He is perhaps the second most prized author in English letters for such perfectly realized works las his novel, A Portrait of Dorian Gray, or his plays that remain popular to this day, such as Lady Windermere’s Fan, The Importance of Being Ernest, or The Ideal Husband.

Watching this show, I whispered to myself, “Brexit!” For the play brought to mind a rigidity seen in British Government, which under a Victorian sodomy law, felt duty-bound to continue its unfortunate legal pursuit of him – despite several junctures at which it would have been possible to do so gracefully.

Bound by expectations in a rigid social structure, the Crown’s legal apparatus went over a cliff with Wilde as they destroyed one of the leading lights of British culture, on behalf of the nobility class. (Likewise they are headed over a cliff by slavishly following the Brexit plebiscite – in my humble opinion.)

There is great tragedy there, both in Wilde's original decision to sue for slander, and in his ruin. At the time, Wilde had two immensely popular plays on London’s West End. These closed, cutting off his revenue, and allowing creditors to seize his assets, amid a scandal that, as we learn in Gross Indecency, he largely initiated himself. The Promethean Ensemble show runs through March 23 at Strawdog Theatre, and it is highly recommended.