Backstage comedies and dramas are a beloved genre – David Mamet’s Main Street, Ronald Harwood’s The Dresser, Noel Coward’s Present Laughter, Mel Brooks The Producers– known for sending up actors, directors, and show business.

Michael Frayn’s Noises Off – the phrase is basically British for “Quiet on the Set” - is widely regarded as among the best of these. And in its current production at Windy City Playhouse Frayn’s script is given its due. From the opening scene, we see we are witnessing a masterwork of comedy, operating on multiple levels – parody, farce, and pure physical hijinks. (Among Frayn’s works are Copenhagen, After Life, The Two of Us and Clouds.) Director Scott Weinstein and this very high-energy, hard-working cast had the audience roiling with laughter.

And it’s no wonder. It tells of a British troupe that has taken a farce, “Nothing On,” on a long road show with limited time for rehearsal. The cast members are already exhausted before opening night, with little time to learn lines, blocking, or plumb into character motivation. These players are a mixed bag of talent, either past their prime or unlikely to reach it. One example: the towering senior Shakespearean actor, Seldson Mowbray (played wonderfully by Will Casey), an inveterate drunk, and impossibly hard of hearing.

Part of the magic of Frayn’s work is that each actor must play two characters - their role in Noises Off, and their secondary role in the farce, Nothing On. And another part of the magic is that they as they squabble, feud, or fall in and out of love, everything is expressed indirectly, within the language of the plays they are performing.

It gets uproarious when the play is live upfront, and the audience is taken backstage to see the battling conducted “noises off,” through pantomime fighting and fisticuffs. Here Frayn challenges the actors to split-second timing in bumping and crashing into each other, handing off props, etc., and they acquit themselves well (Max Fabian s Fight Choreographer). Two other productions I have seen used a turntable set, rotating to perform the second act. Windy City Players has the audience move to the rear of the house, creating an immersive experience that is even more convincing.

As the show opens we meet the actress Dotty Otley (a delicious performance by Amy J. Carle), who, in “Nothing On,” plays a housekeeper, Mrs. Clackett. Otley struggles to remember her lines, her blocking, and what to do with three props she handles: a plate of sardines, a newspaper, and a telephone receiver – always taking the wrong one off stage at the end of the scene. Otley is oozing self-pity, and the other performers crowd around her in sympathy.

Soon enough, from on high over a speaker, we get the sardonic voice of director Lloyd Dallas, world weary and certainly tired of this group. As the rest of the actors appear on stage, Dallas discovers they do not quite realize it is not a technical or even dress rehearsal, but the final rehearsal before opening night. And they do not nearly have their lines down.

“I’m starting to know what God felt like when he sat out there in the darkness creating the world,” says Lloyd as the dress rehearsal implodes. “What did he feel like, Lloyd,” an actor asks. “Very pleased he’d taken his Valium.”

Frayn also seems to be working a bit of an author’s enmity toward actors – largely bringing us venal people who are filled with inchoate emotion, but have no lines of their own to express themselves. When they are “Noises Off,” they don’t even have the lines. To press it even further Frayn shows us how ineptly the actors contend with the rising chaos on stage, adlibbing pathetically – at one point following a missed entrance by her Frederick Fellows (Scott Duff), his wife finds Belinda Blair (Amy Rubenstein is very funny) using a mop as his stand-in.

There is so much excellence in this show, including a pretty successful adoption of British accents (Kathy Logelin is dialect coach), but I particularly enjoyed Ryan McBride as matinee idol Garry Lejeune (and Roger Tramplemaine in Nothing On) – a character who emotes, but doesn’t seem to have any nouns at his disposal. Also charming was his floozy paramour, Brooke Ashton (Rochelle Therrien) playing an impossibly bad actress who is unable to deviate from her memorized positioning and blocking – even if it means she faces away from Lejeune when speaking to him.

Noise Off comes highly recommended. It runs through March 31 at the Windy City Playhouse on Irving Park Road in Chicago. #noisesoffchi

*Extended through ay 12th

An alluring play with a less familiar name - Fuente Ovejuna – is delivering a startlingly great moment of theater. Written in 1619 by Lope de Vega – the prolific writer who is considered the foremost playwright of Spain’s golden age - it is based on a true story that had become legendary even in its own day.

Set in 1476, it tells the story of a village in Spain, Fuente Ovejuna, captured by loyalists to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in a battle for the crown of Castile. As the story unfolds, Commander Fernán Gómez returns victorious from battle and is feted by the villagers, who shower him with gifts – though not gold and luxuries, but simple fare from their farm town - food, livestock, and crockery.

But Gomez (Varris Holmes) is a tyrant, and he also claims as spoils of victory the young women of the town for himself and his solders. His henchmen Ortuno (Jimmy Mann) and Flores (Ty Carter) represent what is coming to be called toxic masculinity, though when the play was written in the 16th century (and onward if we are being honest), it was common male behavior.

Gradually intimidating the townsfolk until they are afraid to resist, Gomez finally crosses the line when he accosts Laurencia – a self-possessed and what we would call today “empowered” woman - and played with compelling vigor by Carolyn Plurad. Through the build-up to that moment, Laurencia and her companion Pasquala (Kristen Alesia), assert themselves against the increasingly forcible entreaties of Gomez and his soldiers. Thwarted, Gomez beats her fiancé and carries Laurencia away - on the very day of their wedding.

Though subjected to attempted rape (medieval Droit du seigneur allowed overlords to have their way with young women under their dominion), Laurencia makes a daring escape, then shames the leading men of Fuente Ovejuna, and in a dramatic exhortation, rallies the men and significantly, the women, to overthrow the tyrant Commander. 

We have City Lit Theatre to thank for helping familiarize us with Lope de Vega, who is revered just a notch below Cervantes in classic Spanish literature. The work is like a highly evolved morality play as it tracks the arc of the historic event, a blow by blow direct narrative. But de Vega invests what are presumably vaguely known historical characters with fully developed, colorful and likeable personalities. 

Standout performances by Rob Garbowski as Esteban, the town magistrate; Jimmy Mann as the Inquisitor and soldier Ortuno; Val Gerard Garcia, Jr. as townsman Mengo; and Dan McGeehan as jurist Manrique. But without question the most powerful performance is Carolyn Plurad as Laurencia – who brings to the role a rousing power. Her delivery will remind you of one of Shakespeare’s heroines.

Terry McCabe, who adapted and directed the work, provides an amazing evocation of the village center, with a continuous cavalcade of performers – 16 actors in 20 roles, including a musical band, with the requisite pool and working fountain in the town square. All this takes place in the tiny quarters of City Lit Theater’s space on Bryn Mawr. De Vega's play has a living heritage: In its home town, it is performed regularly as part of a theater festival, with 150 of the townsfolk in the cast.

Much more than a historic artifact or literary novelty, Fuente Ovejuna is a something quite special, like a fine art house movie – and for that reason comes recommended. See it at City Lit Theater through February 17. www.citylit.org

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.

Theo Ubique Cabaret Theater has kicked-off the opening of its tailor-built home, with a very good production of The Full Monty – a Broadway musical adapted by Terrence McNally and David Yazbeck from a well-regarded 1997 British film.  The troupe was crammed into the heartland Café and No Exit bar for years before landing at this wonderful space.

Smaller Chicago venues have developed something new in artfully scaling back big Broadway musicals scaled to storefront proportions (for example, this year’s Grand Hotel at Theater Wit). The Full Monty at Theo Ubique is exceptionally fun, partly because of the immersive nature of the new theater.

True to classic cabaret, the performers at Theo Ubique double as servers, waiting on tables and then delivering drinks, even dinner (if per-ordered). The bar is within the theater, and one may watch the show from barstools, around cocktail tables on the floor, or from theater seating on risers up to the back wall. I sat at the bar, a great vantage point for both the band and the stage, and for the bartender (though drinks are served only before after and during intermission.)

That strategy is not only  practical, but it eliminates the fourth wall. The serving aisles double as entryways for actors, who may even deliver lines while sitting next to ticket holders. So, we are in the show, while watching it. So, Five Stars for the theater and its concept. I will definitely do the dinner package when I return.

This version of The Full Monty loses the nuance of the movie, about Yorkshire steelworkers who put on a Chippendales-style strip show to earn bucks to start a new life – aiming to outdo the strippers by taking it all off (“the full Monty”). McNally’s version, set in Buffalo, carries a bit of New York theater world lens which creates characters like the brassy, foul-mouthed piano player Jeanette (though perfectly brought to life by Kate Harris).

The women in these men’s lives are largely supporting characters to their spouses/exes, but when the spotlight hits them, we hear and see real talent: including Molly LeCaptain as Georgie, Dave’s supportive wife; and Anna Dvorchak as Isabel, Jerry’s ex. A standout is young Sean Zielinski as Nathan, Dave’s son, who loans his dad $1,000 to secure the stripping gig.

But the songs by David Yazbek and portraits of these ordinary, gentle American males (they are not Alphas but Betas) - rings largely true especially in the hands of this talented troupe. Matt Frye as Jerry Lukowski is very strong as the mastermind of the scheme for the show. Nick Druzbanski as his best buddy and co-conspirator is great. The men are taught something about stripping by a seriously defined gay professional stripper, Keno (John Cardone).

Another McNally touch is that two of the six males – Malcom (Joe Giovannetti) and Ethan (Neil Stratman) --  come out as a gay couple, but their co-strippers are unfazed. Marc Prince as Horse is without question the best dancer, and brings a vulnerability in his performance as a “big black male” saddled with expectations. As to skin, Horse is the only 10 when it gets down to it, with Malcom and Ethan roughly 7, and the others convincingly ordinary, hairy, married American males.

As for the music, from the first note the seven-piece band led by Jeremy Ramey is polished and pitch perfect – a wonderful footing for the show. And the acting and singing is very good, but it was not so evident opening night due to technical unevenness in the overhead microphone pickups. This resulted in performers being overshadowed by the amplified and mixed instrumentalists. Nevertheless, the acting and singing was really pretty good, and the sound has doubtless been addressed.  

Also noteworthy, the choreography by Sawyer Smith, especially evident in the scene where the men learn to dance by adapting moves by Michael Jordan. That was a truly convincing performance.

Theo Unique Cabaret Theatre is highly recommended. See The Full Monty there through January 27, 2019. www.theo-u.com

Set in Chicago’s mythical 51st Ward, Rightlynd is an absolute lark – but with serious underpinnings. It’s a cautionary rendition of that age-old political maxim: power corrupts.

Rightlynd also doubles as a romantic comedy with a healthy dose of musical (ala Hamilton). Set in Chicago’s mythical 51st Ward, a section of the city whose governing alderman has been reelected for years on autopilot, quietly collecting his paycheck and not making waves.

The Rightlynd area has drifted into that political vacuum where city services are scarce, the L stops were closed, and businesses struggle. While the incumbent alderman appears to be asleep at the wheel, in reality he is negotiating to surrender Rightlynd to a developer group ) that wants to make it the “next neighborhood,” represented by Applewood (Jerome Beck in a breakthrough performance – he is great). That’s a familiar story to Chicagoans who are watching high-profile developments – The 78, Lincoln Yards, and the Presidential Library – part of the continuum of projects over the decades.

Regardless of the merits of these current initiatives, community activists will often be found to characterize such efforts as draining potential investment resources away from improvements for more needy areas – the Chicago’s numerous Rightlynd neighborhoods that never get a dime.

By taking an entertaining approach, playwright Ike Holter has figured out how to tell this story without being ponderous. Instead Rightlynd the play is sprightly and effervescent.

The plot follows the political awakening of Nina (Monica Orozco is a powerhouse, perfectly cast!) who begins with a modest effort to slow cars at an intersection on her street. Acting as our Everyman, we watch her journey from this simple zoning request, to passing petitions to get herself on the ballot and then elected as Alderman.

Nina finds running for office is different than running the office, and we watch as she gradually makes concessions to the reality of the streets – including negotiating with gangs and with developers. The election stopped Applewood from its development plans, for a time, but they come back and win influence over the office. "All be need is an open hand and a turned eye," Applewood says. 

Along the way, Nina meets up with a down-on-his-luck ex-con Pac, and the two go from politics to love item. Pac even refused a bus ticket when he was released from jail, preferring to stay in his old neighborhood, Rightlynd. Eddie Martinez plays Pac with sensitivity and panache, and the Martinez-Orozco pairing forms a delightful dynamic duo to energize and add dimension to the show – though at times this subplot threatens to overwhelm the main storyline.

The delightful supporting cast includes Sasha Smith as a Gal Friday for the alderman; Robert Cornelius as Robinson, who operates a garage (where Pac works); and LaKecia Harris as Amena, who lives on the streets.

Along with Anish Jethmalani as Benny, these cast members double in the roles of Denizen – forming the crowds, voters, and other singing and dancing performers that act as the Chorus – both in terms of Greek dramatic traditions, and as a singing-dancing chorus line. A shout-out to Cornelius for his wonderful baritone and to Sasha Smith, whose beautiful energy could easily power a stage all by herself.

Rightlynd is highly recommended. It runs through December 23 at the Victory Gardens Theater at the Biograph.

The Woman in Black, a retelling of a 19th century gothic ghost story, has already begun electrifying audiences on Halsted Street. This finely-honed, two-man production features strong performances by Adam Wesley Brown as The Actor, and Bradley Armacost as a retired lawyer, Arthur Kipps.

We'll try to minimize any hint of a spoiler in reviewing this suspenseful entertainment, but we can reveal that it is a highly entertaining production with a worthy script. 

Running about 90 minutes with one intermission, the story opens with Kipps standing on stage and reading aloud from a hefty tome. He has hired The Actor to help him retell on stage a horrifying story from his past – hoping both to exorcise powerful, haunting memories, and to warn others to beware and avoid his fate. Kipps needs to gain acting skills to tell the story effectively to audiences – one that happens to be true, and which he knows well, because it happened to him 40 years ago.

But within the first 20 minutes devoted to this scene setting, the The Actor determines that Kipps, plodding woodenly through the script, is no actor.

"I must implore you to have sympathy for your audience," he advises Kipps impatiently. "Performing is an art acquired with tears and time." The Actor thinks the script needs some work, too, as he estimates it would take five hours to deliver.  "If your tale is to be heard, it must become palatable," he says. Kipps reluctantly agrees. 

And so The Actor takes on the role of playing him, and Kipps takes to playing several supporting roles. This transformation is both a study in the art of the theater, and a presentation of the manifest stage skills of Brown, an accomplished Shakespearean performer, and Armacost, who has very completely convinced us that Kipps cannot act at all.

Once they trade roles, and Brown begins playing Kipps (he looks a bit like a young Kenneth Branaugh), Armacost seamlessly sheds his inability to act, transforming into multiple supporting characters right before our eyes. Along with The Woman in Black's other merits, these performances are a delight to behold – and doubtless worth trying to see more than once.

Finely honed after nearly three decades on London’s West End - where it continues to delight crowds – The Woman in Black was originally commissioned as an adaptation from Susan Hill’s 1983 novel. For the Chicago run (through February) the show's London director, Robin Herford, has recreated his original staging for the first time in the U.S. It’s star credentials are further secured by another adaptation made from the book for the 2012 film, starring Daniel Radcliffe of Harry Potter fame.

The Woman in Black also serves as a darker alternative to the traditional Christmas shows. Posed as a scary tale told around the hearth late one Christmas Eve, there are ghostly figures in this story but the surprising outcome is decidedly different than other holiday shows. 

The Royal George subtly proffers The Woman in Black as a candidate for holiday-entertainment, the kind of scary story shared by Edwardian families. The tradition of sharing ghost stories around Christmas can be traced to pagan times, as the longer nights approaching the Winter Solstice conjured such tales while villagers huddled for warmth. This show also wards off the ennui some find in repeated efforts to extract seasonal cheer from Charles Dickens' Victorian-era ghost tale. 

Along with the spine-tingling excitement, this highly polished production restores to life to another sleeping specter, the main stage of the Royal George Theatre, one of the city’s most congenial performance venues. Dark for months (and just across the street from the heavily trafficked Steppenwolf Theatre) it’s now bound to be packed for this excellent show.

The play is a thriller, with many of the chills delivered the old fashioned way, through lighting, sound and props. It falls within the bounds of comfort for more sensitive viewers (like my companion) who will find it just below that threshold of covering-the-eyes scary). It's also hip enough to appeal to young adult audiences, who filled a third of the seats on opening night. 

The Woman in Black is highly recommended. Booked through February 19, 2019 at the Royal George Theatre, it plays Wednesdays through Saturdays at 7:30 p.m.; with matinees at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday; and Sunday night performances at 7:00 p.m. 

An unusually busy run for me - four plays in four days - ended last night with the opening of Arcadia, Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s production of what is said to be one of British author Tom Stoppard’s finest plays.

Running at the Greenhouse Theatre, it is certainly the best I have seen this season. 

Stoppard is immensely funny, but can also be intensely challenging, as his fast-paced play of humor and ideas teases the brain while tickling the funny bone. Kudo’s to director Ted Hoerl for taking on this dauntingly complicated show, and mastering it. As with Oscar Wilde, Stoppard uses laughter to disarm our defenses, so that the ideas can move in - exactly what happens at the Greenhouse.  

In this play, Stoppard is said to be making a heady investigation of determinism, science, and the relationship between the laws of nature, and love. The Royal Institution of Great Britain named Arcadia one of the best science-related works ever written, a kind of Big Bang Theory but more serious. One of the main characters in Arcadia, Thomasina (very well played by Meghann Tabor) is based on a real-life 19th Century math prodigy, Ada Lovelace (she was also poet Lord Byron’s daughter) who conceptualized applications for Charles Babbage’s binary computer prototype. Byron also figures in this play, though as an offstage character. 

Stoppard is so very good with language, the show sparkles, especially in the hands of Megan DeLay who is absolutely outstanding as Lady Croom. Kudos also to Chris Woolsey in the role of Septimus Hodge.

Stoppard tests form, pushing the bounds of the stage, using your mind as an extension of the set. Overall, Arcadia is a cross between high comedy, a comedy of manners and a farce. And while its seven scenes all take place in the estate, Sidley Park, in Derbyshire, England, three are set between 1809-1812, alternating with three others set in the present.

Separate casts play each period, and by the seventh, and closing, scene, which takes place both in past and present (with everyone on stage), the audience is fully conditioned to Stoppard’s world and able to follow along. If all that sounds complicated, it’s actually easy to track, especially with the wonderful performances by this amazingly accomplished cast.

The play opens in 1809. Lady Croom’s 13-year-old daughter Thomasina, a mathematical genius, is pestering her tutor, Septimus Hodge, to explain the term “carnal embrace.” She overheard those words from the landscaper Noakes (Nicole Hand) who had seen a tryst in the garden house between the wife of resident poet, Ezra Chater, and another gentleman. We learn soon enough it was Hodge, and he takes inordinate interest in coaxing details from Thomasina while simultaneously try to distract her into finding solutions to Fermat’s Last Theorem.

While the play is much to involved to describe in full, suffice it to say that present day scenes track academic researchers studying Ezra Chater, Lord Byron, and the history of the estate grounds – serving us a send-up of contemporary academia.

A host of colorful characters are delightfully played - Michael Reyes shines as Chater, Heather Kae Smith is wonderful as Chloe, Brian Hurst is a glowering hoot as the Croom's gossipy butler Jellaby - casts from both time periods keep the laughs coming. Arcadia affirms once again “the play’s the thing,” but so is an excellent company. Arcadia is highly recommended, and runs through December 16 at the Green House Theater Center in Chicago.

Plainclothes has all the hallmarks of a dynamic show – a parade of interesting and believable characters, fast-paced and witty dialog, even a socially meaningful storyline, and great performances by the cast.

Premiering at The Den Theatre and written by Spenser Davis, who also co-directs (with Kanomé Jones) Plainclothes tells the story of the security guards who are charged with stopping shoplifting at a Michigan Avenue store that sounds very much like Macy’s. While the retail areas of the store are elegant and packed with luxury goods, the security detail is squeezed into less-than-savory quarters hidden away from public view.

A retinue of shoplifting types parades across the stage as we gaze on in curiosity. Some truly need or  want the goods, others are habitual offenders, and then there are the dilettantes, more in it for the game than the ill-gotten gains. One recurring offender is the effeminate Jomal (Ben F. Locke), in short shorts and bare midriff, who has been banned from the store. Another is Pete (David Weiss) who is also famous as a YouTube personality.

But the biggest focus is on this plain clothes loss-prevention crew, who prowl the aisles on the lookout for theft by customers, or even by the store staff  - individuals tracked down by “Internal” store detectives.

Cashiers such as Mary (RjW Mays) and other staffers who turn in shoplifters are also given bonuses. We learn that race, gender and age of perpetrators is recorded in statistical reports, a matter that is material to the retailer's consumer relations, and to the plot.

The crew is multi-culturally diverse, which also figures in the plot: Llermo (Alejandro Tey), is a warm, funny young Latino, with an eye for ladies; T (Stephanie Shum), a hot-blooded lesbian Asian also with an eye for the ladies; Alma (Teresa Kuruvilea), a South Asian security officer; Stevie (Kim Boler), an aspiring white police cadet; Bobby (Adam Soule) a young white bro who is on the rise; and Karina (Carmen Molina), a mixed-race guard who keeps watch on the video camera feeds from around the store.

The dialog of the team is fast-paced and laced with the shorthand that those immersed in loss prevention security would know – though occasionally it goes over the head of the audience. It’s also loaded with contemporary dish ("Unfriended, deleted, blocked!") and goofy rankings (Michael Buble versus Brittney Spears). 

We are also faced with unique aspect of a contemporary social issue: this diverse “loss prevention” team is accused of catching too few mature white shoplifters and too many young black teens. The crew objects to the charge, grumbling that their varied ethnicities should protect them from charges of prejudice. “I’m getting profiled; I don’t do the profiling,” objects Llermo. “We get fired; white guys get transferred,” laments Karina.  

Nevertheless, they determine to try for those harder to nab but more prized thieves. Things go awry when rookie Stevie gets knifed by a thief, and the plot becomes complicated – and frankly, it gets somewhat lost in its own details.

Davis has based the play on his own experiences working in the very job the play describes, and it tells. The lingo and setting are convincing, with perpetrators handcuffed to a bench while they either pay fines or await the police. The situations conjured up are spot on, as well. And the tribulations of the workplace resonate with everyone who has been paid for productivity – which in this case means catching more thieves before they get out the door.

Davis says he wants Plainclothes to follow the pattern of Broken Nose Theatre’s production of At The Table last year, which was developed, workshopped, and then produced in New York before moving on to Chicago.

Plainclothes offers plenty of potential but the for such development, but will need some more refinement. There are dozens of memorable lines but some, while entertaining, distract from the advance of the action. There are probably a couple characters too many in the show. And the byzantine array of details and events makes it a little difficult to distinguish the high points in the turns of the plot.

The performances are very good, with Alejandro Tey, Ben F. Locke, and Carmen Molina real standouts. Even stronger are Rob Frankel as Jim, the older white guy from management. Frankel is a seasoned performer, and it shows. And RjW Mays is kind of a scene stealer, amping up her smaller role to something delightful. Shum is full throttle in her delivery, and maybe should vary the volume a bit. 

Plainclothes definitely has legs as a theatrical work, and hopefully it will get some refinements if the producers choose a next iteration. Regardless, this is still a fun show, and with tickets at Broken Nose’s “pay-what-you-can” scale, Plainclothes is well worth a look at The Den Theatre, running through December 15.

It’s an intriguing proposition for a play: two actors meet for the first time on stage. One, the First Actor,  has rehearsed the play, while the Second Actor has never even read it.

In An Oak Tree, this dynamic repeats for each day’s performance – 22 in all by the time it ends its run on December 9 - with a freshly cast Second Actor encountering anew the script, the audience, and the actor he plays against.

Written by Tim Crouch, An Oak Tree is also a daring exercise in dramatic abstraction, and a multi-layered exploration of meta-theatrical performance.

The storyline gives a suggestion of how An Oak Tree plays out. The First Actor is a stage hypnotist (played by Gage Wallace with tremendous precision and verve), putting on shows that incorporate audience participation - giving us the first of those meta layers, a “show within the show.”

The dramatic tension rises as we learn that First Actor’s little girl has been killed in a car accident, and that Second Actor is the responsible party. Calling for volunteers from the audience (but it’s another layer, an imaginary audience - we live patrons were warned at the outset not to volunteer), the First Actor sees among the audience volunteers the very driver (the Second Actor) who killed the little girl.

First Actor’s grief and anger rise. He hypnotizes Second Actor and puts him through a series of demeaning exercises, including an admission of guilt for the act. The eight other volunteers (none are visible, of course) are dismissed, so that only Second Actor and First Actor remain.

The dynamics become ugly between First Actor and the hypnotized Second Actor, who slips in and out of awareness in this scene, and there is increasing discomfit between the two characters. We feel the discomfort as well, and witness a shift in power between the characters as the scene progresses.

So how does a non-scripted character perform his or her role (both men and women are cast as Second Actor, including Alejandro Tey the night I saw the show). Actors are freewheeling spirits, generally – but they do like to rehearse the script, and to be prepared before they enter the stage. An Oak Tree has elements of improvisational performance and sight-reading of lines. These 22 venturesome Second Actors – Alejandro Tey showed his quick wit and deft dramatic skills - have willingly subjected themselves to the trial devised by Crouch's play.

As to practicalities of producing the show, Crouch and director Jeremy Aluma allow First Actor to brief the real live audience on some background, and their role, as the show commences. When Second Actor is introduced, he or she is given two or three pages of dialog to read from directly, at various points. And Second Actor also wears an audio device to receive whispered verbal cues from First Actor, who at other times offers those cues and prompts aloud, or whispers them into the ear of Second Actor.

This one-hour show by Red Theater is provocative and intriguing, even mind-bending for avid theater goers. It will have you thinking about it for days afterward. An Oak Tree is at Chicago's Athenaeum Theatre through December 9. 

Blue Man Group premiered the newest version of its show Thursday night at Briar Street Theater, where it has been ensconced since 1997 – making it the longest running act in Chicago. 

Wearing shiny blue face paint, skull masks covering hair and ears, and blue rubber gloves, the Blue Men are clad in non-descript black sweat suits and soft leather boots, giving the individual performers a generic look - though the program gives bios of seven Blue Men whose background trends toward percussionists. The Blue Men move with reptilian precision, navigating the stage, and inspecting each other and audience members in an inherently hilarious manner.

The updated 90-minute program, which is described as "new moments" in this latest iteration (developed by director Michael Dahlen and creative director Jeff Turlik) is a series of sketches that includes some now legendary vignettes, a bit of it inspired by that adolescent humor in which bored frat boys might engage on Saturday morning.

But Blue Man Group is also transgressive, breaking the  bounds of propriety and expectations – a steady series of small shocks that is provocative and creative. The vibrant additions to the show give audiences a whole new reason to attend the Blue Man Group - even if they have seen it before. 

In a reprise of greatest hits the Blue Men chomp and spit out Cap’n Crunch (ewwww!); unerringly catch by mouth marshmallows (and paint balls) hurled 30 feet across the stage; and pound paint-laden drums, splashing the audience – the first five rows of which wears protective ponchos.

One fixture of the shows is a large screen projection of a video cam that follows embarrassed latecomers to their seats. Another pins an audience member against a large canvass and Blue Men shoot paint at them from super soakers. Volunteers for this and several other scenes are selected silently by the blue performers, and frankly no one resists. The troupe marches across the top of the audience's seats, picks through shopping bags and incorporates the ticket holders into the act. 

Another  recurring feature is the selection of quirky hand-built musical instruments whose components could have been sourced from Home Depot’s plumbing aisle and a bike mechanic’s benchtop. From PVC pipe and other elements, the group has long created such devices, one of which is a cross between a drum and a trombone – sounding like a digiroo. Newly constructed and remastered instruments include the Light Horns and the Trigger Vibes. Original music compositions in this updated Chicago production include the theatrical debut of “Vortex,” a piece from Blue Man Group’s latest studio album “THREE.”

For its latest show, the Trigger Vibes percussion instrument has grown to the size of a pipe organ, and is beaten with paddles, generating loud xylophonic sounds. Another addition is a stringed instrument, the Spinulum, that looks like a tall vertical slide guitar crossed with a bicycle drive train. Though the Blue Men are always silent, the instruments are not, and a back-up band behind a screen in a loft above the stage is even louder – unfortunately at times overshadowing the Blue Men’s acoustical efforts.

Awareness of this trio of blue-masked men is high, with more than one million tickets sold to their shows in Chicago, which combine drumming, mime, music, original digital video, and in the latest version an even higher degree of audience participation. The performers were historically largely anonymous, and are likely interchangeable among the major cities in which Blue Man Group claims residence: Berlin, New York, Orlando, Boston, Las Vegas. I’ve seen them in three cities for a total of seven shows over the years.  

That’s more than I’ve seen of a similar stage syndication, Cirque de Soleil, which acquired Blue Man Group from its founders in July 2017.  Like Cirque, Blue Man Group is also a marketing phenomenon, performing private shows and at conventions, and releasing albums. YouTube videos of their NPR Tiny Desk appearance will give you a feel for the music. A clip of Blue Man Group’s Meditation for Winners (not performed in this show, unfortunately) is both hilarious and a trenchant social commentary.

Though the Blue Men are genericized in dress, Scott Bishop, Tom Galassi, Eric Gebow, Callum Grant, Gareth Hinsley, Michael Angelo Smith and Brian Tavener are credited in the program (three perform in each show). 

In fact, Blue Man Group is not just silly, but through the years has maintained implicit social commentary in its shows about the perils of surrendering our humanity to technology. The audience must swear a pledge to disconnect from its phones during the show, and one very powerful sketch finds three individuals wearing a digital Find Friends apparatus, which leads them on a wild goose chase (complete with a Wayze- or Google-like GMS misdirection) to find friends – who were actually standing right next to them to begin with. The strength of this single vignette is enough to merit a ticket to the new show.

Bringing out a new show is certainly a bit unnerving for the creative team behind Blue Man Group, given its origins as a just-for-fun street performance art team in New York City. It was formalized in 1991 by founders Chris Wink, Phil Stanton, and Matt Goldman. And like successful rock starts, the Blue Men must balance the demands of a growing roster of greatest hits, with a need to refresh the show, stay current, and be true to their own creative leadings. Packing the hits up front gave them just a whiff of being obligatory, while the new stuff seemed a bit squeezed in the remainder of the program. Nevertheless, having seen Blue Man Group multiple times, I still laughed spontaneously throughout. This show is highly recommended – catch it at at the Briar Street Theater.