Displaying items by tag: Steppenwolf Theatre

There are a few plays that focus on the love between two brothers. There are even fewer that will allow you to understand the brother’s fears, desires, and dreams throughout their heartfelt journey together. A story of two brothers who not only try to find peace between each other but peace within the gritty environment they inherited. The second installment of acclaimed playwright and screenwriter Tarell Alvin McCarney’s Brother/Sisters trilogy, The Brothers Size, returns to the Steppenwolf theatre for the first time since its celebrated Chicago 2010 premiere.

The Brothers Size is the story of Oshoosi Size and his return home from prison. He lives with his tough older brother, Ogun Size, who runs an auto shop by himself. Ogun pushes Oshoosi to find work and to start rebuilding his life, but Oshoosi has bigger dreams than his older sibling and fantasizes himself in the company of a woman or driving around without a care in the world with his best friend, Elegba. The brother’s opposing views on life cause them to clash. Challenging them to find a way to understand one another. Elegba jumps in and out of Ogun and Oshoosi's life as a devoted friend who served time alongside Oshoosi. Oshoosi embraces Elegba as not only a friend but sometimes a lover, but Ogun can’t help but see Elegba as a threat.

Director Monty Cole brings this play to life with a dark, mulch covered stage that evokes the feeling of being inside an industrial environment where men work under a full moon with beads of sweat dripping off their fingertips; dreaming of better days. The stage is a reflection of the hard labor Ogun pushes upon himself to maintain. A life Oshoosi shuns away from, seeking a paradise his brother can never understand. After Oshoosi and Elegba find himself in trouble with the law again, Ogun is left with a decision that could change not only his brother’s life but his own.

McCraney's In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue was the basis for the Oscar-winning film Moonlight directed by Barry Jenkins, for which McCraney and Jenkins won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. The middle piece of his acclaimed triptych is another brilliant piece from McCraney’s catalog. The Brothers Size is written with a raw and poetic language, enriched with West African Yoruba mythology. Not only are the characters borrowed from its tales, but the play uses the mythology as a device to drive the story. In the first scene, each character enters the stage to the beat of a drum. They’re chanting and stomping the stage barefooted, side by side, connecting to their ancestors who walked around as beautiful, free men. An undeniable parallel as each character throughout the play struggles to find freedom within themselves.

In his Steppenwolf debut, Patrick Agada (Oshoosi Size) brings an electrifying energy to the stage that has to be pointed out. Manny Buckley (Ogun Size) and Rashaad Hall (Elegeba) give passionate performances that are not overshadowed by Agada’s nor superior. They weave together into a sweet harmony similar to a jazz ensemble that’s been playing together for years. When they share the stage, their performances melt together into a stunning work of art, and when its time to stand out on their own they do so in a way that seems effortless.

McCarney quoted: "The prison industrial complex as we know it...destroys families—and changes lives forever." The Brothers Size gives insight into the reality of a loved one trapped in a system that was never designed for him/her to succeed. It unveils the depth of brotherly love and how the grief caused by this complex is not a burden solely rested on those who’ve been imprisoned but shared with the loved ones they left behind.

Through October 19, 2019 at Steppenwolf Theatre.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” repeats James Seol in Lauren Yee’s new play “The Great Leap” now playing at Steppenwolf Theatre. Jesca Prudcencio directs this modern twist on the Dickens classic “A Tale of Two Cities”, which divides its action between 1980s San Francisco and Beijing. 

“The Great Leap” refers to a period of social revolution in China beginning in the 1950s that spilled over into chaos by the late 1980s. Yee’s play is based on a series of real life basketball games in which her father played on behalf of America in Beijing during the 80s. Her father, much like the main character Manford, was a basketball star of San Francisco’s Chinatown. From this bit of personal history, Yee creates a fictional friendship match between USF and Beijing which culminates in the height of the Tiananmen Square protests.

Manford, played by the indefatigable Glenn Obrero is a fast-talking basketball wunderkind from the streets of Chinatown. He convinces down-on-his-luck coach Saul Slezac (Keith Kupferer) to bring him to Beijing for a high-profile rematch between the two countries. Slezac is the standard cocky American who credits himself for bringing basketball to China eighteen years prior when he trained the Republic of China coach, Wen Chang (James Seol). Though the game is coined a friendship match, the stakes are high for both coaches as well as Manford who has limited post-high school options. 

For many theater-goers, plays about sports can be a snooze, but Yee’s play is rarely just about basketball. “The Great Leap” is a history lesson about a revolution in China that failed. Many of today’s teenagers are entirely unaware of the Tiananmen Square Massacre and the famous image of the man with bags in front of a tank. The playwright uses basketball as an allegory for the communist party’s tension with the west. 

Performances and production run strong here. Those with only a lukewarm interest in sports will be dazzled by the theatrical vision Jesca Prudencio has for this show. The basketball choreography creates a sense of excitement in the brightly lit set by Justin Humphres. It’s not often that a major house has an entirely Asian American cast (with the exception of Keith Kupferer). It is on the stellar and inspiring performances by James Seol, Glenn Obrero and Deanna Myers that this play hinges. Though Kupferer gets most of the laughs as the crass American coach through which Yee pokes fun at her own Asian American heritage. James Seol establishes himself as the main character with a performance that is as humorous as it is heartfelt. 

“The Great Leap” comes at a relevant time in history. As we observe the 30th anniversary of the June 4 protests, Yee asks us if diplomatic relations have improved or degraded. An ongoing trade war between the two nations as well as uprisings in Hong Kong are food for thought. As complex as the social revolution was, Yee’s play uses hindsight to suggest it was a simpler time, or at the very least a time of great hope. 

Through October 20 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

When Chicago drag performer Joan Jett Blakk ran for President in 1992 – the year Bill Clinton was nominated – it was certainly the most outré act of political insurrection Americans had seen – for those who noticed, anyway. It’s unlikely the Tribune and Sun-Times gave her candidacy much coverage.

Now Steppenwolf Theater is telling her story, in Ms. Blakk for President, timed for Gay Pride Month and the 50th Anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising.Let me tell you something: it will make you laugh and cheer.

This show is particularly special for its genesis – co-authored by Tina Landau (who directed) and Tarell McCraney. McCraney also plays Joan Jett Blakk in a shoot-for-the-stars great performance. McCraney has also had several other plays produced at Steppenwolf. Oh, and he chairs Playwriting at Yale. Oh, and he also won an Oscar for the script with Barry Jenkins for Moonlight. To put it bluntly, this is a moment in Chicago theater you will not want to miss.

The real Joan Jett Blakk, Terence Alan Smith, was a transgressive performance artist who dashed straight cultural and political norms. Smith has collaborated on this play, which finally gives him his due. Running for Mayor of Chicago against Richard M. Daley in 1990, as a black, gay, man in drag, this Queer Nation Party candidate was well ahead of her time. Then she went on to the Democratic National Convention, gaining credentials and making it to the floor. OMG!

In fact, Joan Jett Blakk actually ran twice for President of the U.S. – in 1992 and 1996 – and some of her best lines are put to the service of this show – “Lick Bush in ’92!” “If a bad actor can be elected president, why not a good drag queen?” Doesn't that convey the power of drag?

Her platforms included legalizing all drugs, and to have “dykes on bikes” secure our borders. She posed as Angela Davis in a wicker chair holding a machine gun, but turning that violent Black Panther slogan “By Any Means Necessary” to something altogether mind-bending, delivering power on another plane. That is what Joan Jett Blakk was all about.

The very subversiveness of Blakk’s drag queen candidacy by necessity is ephemeral. Seeing it staged, against the gay liberation protests and demands made at the Madison Square Garden Democrativ Convention for AIDS support and abortion choice, reminds us of not just how far society has come, but how fragile those victories remain.

Landau and Jenkins felt that a more experiential play would tell the story better. So the Steppenwolf has been converted to a drag show bar, with a runway, cocktail table seating, and familiar denizens (some look like Village People types). The audience is encouraged to dress in drag, I suspect, because many did the night I saw it. And some ask questions of the candidate in a free-flowing town hall.

Ms. Blakk for President relates basic factual aspects of the history: how Joan Jett Blakk got to New York (the Limelight Nightclub flew her); where she stayed (a former trick put her up); how she got credentials, and her path the floor of Madison Square Garden, appearing after a young Rep. Maxine Waters and Gov. Mario Cuomo gave nominating speeches. We see clips of those speakers from the real convention.

It is a great story – and Landau and McCraney give us an entertaining semblance of a drag show, with the requisite vamping, dancing, vogueing – all supporting McCraney’s high energy performance. She reveals Smith’s internal process as he changes from an ordinary black man to Joan Jett Blakk, while lying in a stall in the men’s room at Madison Square Garden. It was an almost sacramental transformation, that emancipated Smith into the powerful Joan Jett Blakk. (Smith chose not to use falsies or hide his male body; she donned gold earrings, makeup, and a tight-fitting spaghetti strap flag dress before joining the throngs on the floor). You can see photos of the real dress on the real Joan Jett Blakk in the theater lobby. 

Smith’s achievement with Joan Jett Blakk would be easy for contemporary viewers to overlook – she arrived long before characters like Ru Paul and from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy became household names. If you were around at the time and became aware of her campaigns, you were either tickled or repulsed. But there was a deadly serious element here: gay liberation was taking to the streets, and Queer Nation and ACT UP were demanding action on gay issues– which were largely disregarded by the political mainstream.

Joann Jett Blakk’s campaign brought an element of street theater to bear on pressing issues: LGBTQ Rights, gay oppression and discrimination, marriage equality, and the AIDS crisis. The establishment could only have viewed Smith’s run as an act of political insolence.

This show is good theater, and the play itself accomplishes its slapdash tale-telling, albeit with some loose threads, like the recuring wraith, dressed in popular drag roles, who gives Joan guidance at crossroads in her life. (It kinda sucks.) We do get to know Joan Jett Black, and through her, Terence Alan Smith. We get a pretty good sense of the streams of gay political movement – the more fiery queer rage and the more conciliatory gay gradualists who find drag threatening. The play is male-centric, given its drag focus, a fact that is acknowledged from the stage.

And this work is self-aware – largely a farce, and admittedly so. But it does chronicle someone who made an important contribution to our poltiics and society, by any means necessary.” Ms. Blakk for President” is lots of fun, big laughs, and will also draw you to spontaneous applause for those political statements that ring even truer today. The experience is extended with after-show talks, the DJ SLO'MO at Steppenwolf's Front Bar on Friday nights, and other events. Ms. Blakk for President  runs through July 14 at Steppenwolf Theater. 

*Extended through July 21st

"If you're not going to grow then don’t live," says Hazel in Lucy Kirkwood's play 'The Children' now running at Steppenwolf. Directed by Jonathan Berry, 'The Children' makes its area debut after extended runs on Broadway and West End. A well-cast trio of Chicago favorites will surely entice audiences.

In 'The Children', Hazel (Janet Ulrich Brooks) and Robin (Yasen Peyankov) are living in a seaside cottage on the English countryside. The location and set seem idyllic until a surprise visitor Rose (Ora Jones) comes to ask a favor. Soon we found out that they have been forced to relocate after an accident at the power plant they used to work for. In witty dialogue, Hazel and Rose discuss their current lives after having not seen each other in years. Both are older and are easing into lives of comfort in their late middle age. Hazel is impossibly optimistic and in a constant state of self-improvement, while Rose has grown cynical about the end years of her life. Robin is somewhere in the middle, literally as it's quickly revealed there's old passion between he and Rose.

It's hard to think of a play that addresses climate change and nuclear disaster quite like 'The Children'. In fact, the playwright said she struggled to think of a compelling way to relay the horrors of climate change while the whole world does nothing. Theatre is a difficult medium in which to teach scientific facts. Instead, Kirkwood focuses on character. This is a story about three characters each unique in their outlook of death.

Since this play is so reliant on character, Berry is wise to bring in heavy hitters Janet Ulrich Brooks and Ora Jones. Both have such commanding stage presence and likability that audiences are drawn in from the very first word. There's a comforting quality to Brooks' Hazel that soothes the harsh realities of rising sea levels. Jones walks a difficult line with Rose, she's able to make extremely unpleasant subject matters humorous.

'The Children' is an intimate play the confronts the issues facing humanity head on. Kirkwood isn’t afraid to touch on subject matters that make you squirm in your seat. She's taken an event like the Fukushima disaster in Japan and put it right in the western world's lap. Without being preachy, she spins a story that ordinary Chicagoans can see themselves in. While it may not be a direct call to action, it's strongly encouraged here. Despite the darkness, she gives her play an optimistic ending. As long as there are good people, there is hope.

Through June 9th at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted St. 312-335-1650.

“I’m a better version of myself, when I’m by myself,” says Nora in Lucas Hnath’s sequel to Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. The play takes place some fifteen years after her departure at the end of the original play. Steppenwolf is one of the first regional theaters to revive the 2017 Broadway blockbuster, which starred Steppenwolf ensemble member Laurie Metcalf. Both Hnath and Metcalf were nominated for Tony awards for the play, Metcalf taking home the Best Actress award.

With the exception of ‘Grease 2’, sequels are rarely good. That said, it’s an interesting thing when done in theatre. In recent years we’ve seen a sequel to ‘Hamlet’, ‘The Crucible’ and now Ibsen’s feminist drama ‘A Doll’s House’. Before groaning, “but they’re ruining it!” consider that Hnath’s script stands alone and is probably closer to a satire than a direct sequel. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ picks up at the very door Nora slams at the end of Ibsen’s play. It is fifteen years later, and she comes back with a favor to ask of her ex-husband. What follows is a humorous manifesto in defense of being single. And no, you don’t need to remember the fine points of Ibsen’s original to enjoy Hnath’s updated version.

Sadly, Laurie Metcalf is not joining this revival but that’s just fine because ensemble member Sandra Marquez is well suited for the role. It’s a short play, just barely hitting the 90-minute mark, but in that time there’s a perfect banter between Nora and her former governess Anne-Marie, played by the indelible Barbara E. Robertson. Marquez spends every moment of the play on stage and that often includes swaths of monologue. In a costume designed by Izumi Inaba, her performance is captivating. She nails all the jokes and maybe even finds new humor in the script. Though short, her scene with Celeste M Cooper is ripe with tension. Cooper plays her estranged daughter with a cool and mysterious sense of doublespeak.

If a ‘A Doll’s House’ is about the suffocation of marriage, then ‘Part 2’ is more of a denunciation of pairing off in general. In fact, Nora mentions that you’re not marrying the person you’ll end up with, you’re marrying who they are right now. And people change. This observation alone is somewhat disturbing but truly encapsulates the message Hnath is getting at. The play ends abruptly but the point is made. Maybe being alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, but like Marquez’ performance, it takes a lot of strength to stand on one’s own.

Director Robn Witt’s vision for this show is cool. We would imagine that anything in the world of Ibsen would be typical high production cost period piece. Witt strips it down for a minimal approach, nearly the only color is the bright yellow door Nora comes in, and then out of again. The costumes suggest period, but the dialogue is exceptionally modern. Though there are Voss water bottles on stage, we never forget what time period we are in. ‘A Doll’s House, Part 2’ at Steppenwolf is a near perfect revival that doesn’t go in for a carbon copy of the Broadway production. A major difference is that there’s on-stage seating for an even more intimate look. A good example of why it’s usually best to skip the national tour if you live in Chicago.

Through March 17 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650

La Ruta accomplishes an impossible feat: drawing a luminous theater experience from a horrific factual account. This premier at the Steppenwolf tells the tale of the scores of young women who have been kidnapped and murdered near Juarez over several decades.

And yet, it is an uplifting and inspiring show. Playwright Isaac Gomez approaches the story by relating the emotional toll these murders have taken on the mothers and families of these young women, who board la ruta, the bus line to the U.S.-owned maquiladoras border factories. Some of these women never return.

It is a startling achievement that Gomez and director Sandra Marquez can present this tale in an entrancing manner, through song and stagecraft, drawing us close so that we will not flee from hearing of an atrocity that, even as it continues, is in danger of being forgotten.

Since 1993 hundreds of grisly murders have taken place of young Mexican women working near Juarez. Peculiar patterns have emerged in these murders, known as feminicidos, and which are monitored by Amnesty International and other groups: slender young women are kidnapped, sexually violated, tortured, then abandoned in the desert or in garbage dumps. These murders have scandalized the world.

La Ruta relates some of this, and depicts the social and emotional toll it is taking in Juarez, in the province of Chihuaha from which many of the women originate, and throughout Mexico. But Gomez and director Marquez adeptly mix music, comedic and tender emotional moments, and political drama, against the gut-wrenching backdrop of this acrid history.

La Ruta opens on what appears to be a lovely evening streetscape, and we hear the transcendentally beautiful voice of Desamaya (Laura Crotte). She is singing an enchanting ancient Mexican fable of La Bruja – The Witch – who as legend holds it steals little children and sucks out their souls – foreshadowing the drama to come. On a closer look we see a dead tree, and not moonlight, but the vapid glare of a streetlamp.

The next morning a mother sees her daughter to the stop for La Ruta, and she will head to the garment factory. Once there, a music plays a central role on the factory floor. The workers scan the dial for pop songs to support their repetitive work, in one scene settling on Son Del Obrero – an upbeat tune perfectly synchronized to the choreographed movements of the women at their sewing machines, singing along as they push work through. We witness the aspirations of the young women hoping for better life through the factory floor.

Gomez also gives us endearing scenes – a young newbie worker Brenda (Cher Alvarez) is shown the ropes by Ivonne (Karen Rodriguez). And later, Ivonne coaches Brenda on how to talk to boys – a delightful scene.

Charin Alvarez is at the top of her game as Marisela, a grieving mother turned political activist who leads others to march to the state capital. She has channeled her grief into action.

And in one of the most poignant scenes in this or any play, Marisela coaxes another mother to join her on the march to Chihuaha. But that mother cannot come, because doing so would mean describing her daughter as being among the dead. She is not ready to acknowledge her daughter is permanently missing. Because her body has not been found, this mother clings to the hope she is alive. Marisela does not push her beyond what she can accept. It is hard not to be moved. 

As the play concludes, the audience rises as one for an ovation. It is well deserved. La Ruta is highly recommended, and runs through January 27 at Steppenwolf Theatre.

As the house lights dimmed and the actors took to the stage, an odd play began to unfold at Steppenwolf’s 1700 Theater. Lights appeared to direct the actors where to go, the actors didn’t act as though they were acting, and perched on my corner aisle seat actresses raced by to leap onto the backs of other actors. I wondered if having that second glass of wine was a good idea. But what was unfolding before me was a beautiful, complex, original, and exquisitely choreographed production of The Better Half presented by Lucky Plush Productions.

The Better Half is a dance-theater spin on the 1944 psychological thriller Gaslight, directed by George Cukor. Launching from this classic film, layers of fiction and reality accumulate, revealing the elusive boundaries between performer and character, actual and scripted relationships, life versus borrowed plot lines. Ultimately a new narrative emerges, capturing the habitual patterns, escapist tendencies, and resilience in contemporary relationships through a complex mix of dance and theater languages.

Rhoads and Danzig approached the staging of The Better Half with a commitment to actual experience. The performers are first and foremost themselves. They are assigned characters. The thriller plot is handed to them. The imposed elements cause the performers to react, and their reactions further the plot. The actual effects on the performers in trafficking between the composed plot and the live circumstances deliver a coherent narrative arc that grapples with fact and illusion, life and art and the way these opposites can get entangled.

The 1700 Theater is Steppenwolf’s newest theater; a casual, intimate and flexible 80-seat space dedicated to showcasing the work of ensemble and emerging local theater companies. With the entrance conveniently located through the bar, it set the mood perfectly for the avant garde production. This surprising, confusing, and intriguing play made for a more unusual theatrical experience than the normal Chicago theater soon. It pairs best with a crisp chardonnay.

On November 10 and 17, take advantage of a discounted Lucky Plush Saturday double feature with a work-in-progress showing of Rink Life at 5 pm, and the signature Lucky Plush work The Better Half at 8 pm. Tickets are available through November 17th and can be purchased at https://www.steppenwolf.org.

“Downstate” is a bit of a dog whistle for Chicagoland, suggesting a cultural distinction between urbanites in the north, and the vast agrarian expanses to the south – downstate - where trash goes, sewage flows, and where the state government builds prisons.

The word becomes generalized in Downstate, a new play by Pulitzer Prize winner Bruce Norris, which looks at the fraught issue of finding housing for convicted pedophiles after they serve time for their crimes. During parole, these men are returned to the” community,” but not to their home.

Instead they live in halfway houses operated by non-profits, sited in carefully proscribed areas that must be so-many hundreds of feet away from schools and other areas children may gather. The inhabitants are not allowed to go online, or possess a smartphone, keep alcohol, use Facebook, or move about freely.

Norris takes the less politically correct position of empathy in showing the suffering imposed on these pariahs, who in the world of #MeToo are unlikely to get a second thought. They are subject to regular inquisitions by parole officers, and a concatenation of rules and restrictions means there are few locations for them to live in such transitional halfway houses. So, they are shipped Downstate.

“I started doing a lot of reading about the things paroled sex offenders increasingly face– registries, residency restrictions, neighborhood watches, self-appointed vigilante groups,” says Norris. “These are post-incarceration punishments, that don’t exist for any other category of criminal.”

That in a nutshell is what Downstate is about: four men holed up in a house run by a Lutheran social service agency. They can go to work and come home, and that’s about it – even the local IGA grocery store is only 2,450 feet from the elementary school. They are indeed strange bedfellows, and Norris gives us the nuance of the caliber of their individual violations:

• the piano teacher Fred (Steppenwolf stalwart Francis Guinan) who had sex with two adolescent male students. Guinan, in an understated performance, shows the range that can be expressed within a very constrained character.

• Gio (Glenn Davis in an amazing, hyperbolic performance) a frenetic man on the make with a plan in his hand, whose crime was considered Category 1 (lower level) statutory rape of a young woman below age.

• Felix (Eddie Torres) who was convicted of incest with his daughter. Torres conveys the abject suffering and torment as he loses access to his family.

• A Broadway choreographer and accomplished promoter and musical artist, Dee, who fell in love with a 14-year-old boy in a road show of Peter Pan.

As Dee, K. Todd Freeman gives what will certainly become a definitive expression to the role. He is the settled voice of reason and a nurturant center of gravity within this ad hoc family of men, shopping for them and helping to make a home for them. As audience, we listen to Dee: he dishes and gives back as good as he gets – and he becomes our guide and the closest thing to a voice of reason.

Norris may be toying with us, then, by making Dee a very sympathetic character, while at the same time making him an unrepentant advocate for man-boy love – the movement that sees adult male love of minor boys as a victimless crime, and which advocates for release of those convicted of it. 

“There’s not many cases of death by blowjob!” Dee asserts. Gio, for one, abhors Dee both for his gayness and for his pederasty, with some violent outbursts in the house as a result.

Norris focuses this tension with the introduction of Andy (Tim Hopper), a Northshore suburbanite who with his wife Em (Matilda Ziegler) comes to visit Fred to seek redress, to “process” the issue and obtain formal emotional closure by getting him to sign an explicit statement acknowledging his wrongs. Norris contrasts Andy’s suffering with the experience of Dee, who comes to the defense of Fred, while revealing that he, too, was abused as a child – and claims to be none the worse for it. Fred and Em bring all the conventional middle class psychological expression to their claims - but framed within the context of Downstate, it begins to sound more like "white people's problems." 

Norris seems fearless in treading into such troublemaker territory. His Pulitzer winning Clybourn Park visited historic efforts in 1959 to block African Americans from moving into a white Chicago neighborhood, then returned 50 years later to watch a reversal of prejudice as whites tried to gentrify the same now-black area. Downstate will test its audience even further, since pedophiles are largely today's lepers.

Downstate is directed by Pam MacKinnon, and she had her hands full to balance the energy emanating from this remarkable company of performers. A call out to Cecilia Noble as parole officer Ivy - it's almost a thankless role to play the character who has a thankless job, in a play like this. But thank you, Ivy, for very good performance. 

Of particular note, the production is a joint effort by Steppenwolf and the National Theatre of the U.K. It may surprise you to learn the cast is transatlantic. The flawless, broad, working class accent of extreme south suburban Effie (played by Aimee Lou Wood, a Manchester, England native) and the dulcet Kenilworth articulation of Em (played by Londoner Matilda Ziegler) were learned right here on Halsted street, under the tutelage of Gigi Buffington.

Downstate plays through November 18 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. After that it moves to the National Theatre London in January 2019.

Having been close with many people with disabilities over the course of my life, I’m often hesitant when it comes to media about such individuals. Too often, books or films or plays dealing with disabilities end up being either demeaning to the folks who have them or cloying and saccharine to the audience. Earlier in this young millennium, I was thrilled to find and read Mark Haddon’s novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a rare tale that falls into neither of these traps. Haddon’s novel became a favorite of mine, its important-sounding title (taken from a line in a Sherlock Holmes story) hinting at the very big steps taken by its protagonist and narrator, a British teen afflicted with autism. And now I can say that the Steppenwolf Theatre’s current stage production based on the novel has become one of the best shows I’ve seen — this year or any other, in Chicago or elsewhere.

In the role of Christopher, said protagonist, is Terry Bell in his first Steppenwolf production. The key to Bell inhabiting the role of Christopher isn’t that he makes the boy’s Britishness real any more than that he realistically portrays autism. No, Bell’s performance is stunning in that he makes Christopher human. While tics and traits are given to the lad, it’s the vulnerability, intellect, and emotion that Bell gives Christopher that made him so real, so human. This was an actual person I saw up there, not a type or a trope or a character. Whether Christopher is doing math, navigating London, fighting with his father, or reading long-lost letters, he is a real boy, not just someone up on a stage.

The rest of the Steppenwolf cast take their duty of realism just as seriously. Cedric Mays plays Christopher’s father as a loving but over-extended parent doing his best to raise his boy. Rebecca Spence, as Christopher’s mother, is heartbreaking as the broken woman who finally felt she couldn’t.

One of my biggest concerns coming into the play was how the first-person narration of the novel would translate to the stage. Would the audience be submitted to one character’s constant exposition? How would Christopher’s story work? Well, thanks to the shining performance of Caroline Neff as Siobhan, Christopher’s schoolteacher, I needn’t have worried. Neff acts as narrator for much of the play, while also acting the part of a nurturing and knowledgeable caregiver for Christopher. If only all children, regardless of their disabilities or lack thereof, could have as loving and caring a teacher as the one Neff has created.

And, as the production has been tailored not just to standard audiences, but to those who share Christopher’s disabilities (and abilities!), with information on the novel and play’s background provided, with discussions led by the cast, and even with accommodating and accessible performances for anyone to enjoy, I can tell you that not only is this a caring play onstage, but beyond the stage, as well.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is being performed at Steppenwolf Theatre through October 27th. For more information, please visit www.steppenwolf.org.

Call your mother seems like the resounding theme of Jen Silverman’s new play ‘The Roommate ‘now running at Steppenwolf. Directed by famed television and stage actress Phylicia Rashad, this new play explores the often overlooked lives of women over a certain age.

Sharon (Sandra Marquez) is a middle-aged woman living alone in a big house in Iowa. Her simple life is turned upside down when a mysterious new roommate, Robyn (Ora Jones), from the Bronx moves in. Though Robyn is careful not to answer all of Sharon’s questions, she helps get Sharon out of her shell. While the play is mostly a sit-com style comedy, it goes deep on how women in their 50s can sometimes become invisible to even their own children.

The play is well written and very funny, but it’s the two actresses that really make this. Marquez and Ora Jones are both ensemble at Steppenwolf and it’s a rare treat to see two such accomplished actresses show their comedic skills in this light-hearted comedy. Marquez’s performance is transformative from start to finish. Her delivery and timing is pure midwestern homemaker, reminding us all of our own mothers just a little bit. Her character’s naivety about the world at large is endearing. Ora Jones plays the cool talking roommate Robyn. Jones has a lot of stage presence. There’s something both intimidating and soothing about her performance. The play’s revelations should make her character seem untrustworthy but the chemistry between her and Marquez makes you questions whether someone’s past is who they are today.

Phylicia Rashad is best known for her role as Claire Huxtable on the Cosby Show. She’s wise to distance herself from that now. Since then she’s appeared on Broadway and has moved on to directing. Rashad knows sit-com. She also seems to have a real understanding of these two characters. This show could have easily played for the “shock the old lady” trope, but instead there’s a real heart at the core of this new play. It may not change the world, but it’s a play that makes an observation about what happens to our moms when we grow up and fly the nest.

Through August 5 at Steppenwolf Theatre. 1650 N Halsted. 312-335-1650