I would absolutely bomb out of jury selection cos I have a very definite bias: I’ve been a fan(atic) of Babes with Blades Theatre Company (BWBTC) forever – since their very first show in 1997. Favoritism notwithstanding, I try to always be scrupulously fair in my reviews, and it’s certainly fair to say THE S PARADOX blew my socks off! My companion was particularly impressed by the fighting, but that’s only to be expected from the Babes – BWBTC is all about women in arms telling the truth with precision and grace.

Playwright Jillian Leff ^she/her  has outdone herself; the script moves at a lightning pace yet leaves one thinking long afterward. THE S PARADOX won the 2019-2020 Joining Sword and Pen Playwriting Competition, and this production is the world premiere of the work. The script is very clever and often hilarious; all the characters are intriguing and believably portrayed.  But what the bloody hell is an S Paradox? It’s a real thing in statistics and, though I wander gormless through the world of statistics, I’ll take a stab at defining it. Simpson’s (S) Paradox is a phenomenon in which associations between two variables can change or even reverse direction when there’s an unrecognized factor that interacts strongly with both variables.

For example, take a study done in 1974 of the relationship between smoking and heart disease, which found just what you’d expect. However, recently the data were re-analyzed and found that, after 30 years more smokers (76%) were still alive than non-smokers (68%).

WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot? Does smoking prolong survival?? 

What confounded the data and produced the paradoxical finding is Simpson's Paradox – they failed to consider a third variable: age at the beginning of the study. Far more nonsmokers were over 64 – logical, because there simply aren't as many smokers who get that old – and naturally these older subjects died off sooner.  

Enough with the statistics already! let’s get back to the Babes. But the statistics are important cos THE S PARADOX is about time travel, where paradoxes abound and may have horrific unintended consequences.

Kayla Marie Klammer (she/her) and Elisabeth Del Toro (she/her) in THE S PARADOX

THE S PARADOX opens in a distant and (seemingly) utopian future: tax reforms have virtually eliminated poverty, healthcare is free, and guns are totally banned – the police are armed with (you guessed it) swords. Sounds good, yeah? Our hero is a young woman named Sloane, gorgeously played by Kayla Marie Klammer^she/her.  Through various machinations and interventions by Dez, the armorer, Sloane acquires a sword and is offered a sensational job with a shadowy government organization.

Dez is brought to exuberant life by Elisabeth Del Toro^she/her. I adored her! Funny and frolicsome, DelToro’s Dez sparkles with such droll enthusiasm that Sloane can’t resist her… and nor could I!

Sloane is pretty pumped about all this, but she gets a sharply unfavorable reaction from her partner Ava, who’s suspicious that the job looks too good to be true. More importantly, Ava is older than Sloane and remembers the times before the reforms; she wants no chance of returning to a world of guns! Cat Evans^they/she/him gives us an Ava who mounts these logical arguments but is primarily motivated by her love and concern for Sloane. This honey works better than the vinegar of logic, and Sloane agrees to return the sword.

All well and good, but she’s thwarted on numerous fronts: first, Dez is weirdly reluctant to accept the sword back. Weirder still, this woman who claims to be from the future appears and warns Sloane that she’s about to make a dreadful mistake … but disappears before she can explain herself. And who are these anonymous cloaked strangers following Sloane? Could something be happening in the future that is paradoxically non-utopian?

I can’t say more without grievous spoilers, but I do need to make a couple more introductions, as their characters will appear (and disappear and re-appear and disappear and re-re-appear and disappear again). William, the businessman who recruited Sloane, is brilliantly played by Steve Peebles ^he/him, who portrays him behaving ever more peculiar, fast approaching frankly creepy.

Sonja Lynn Mata^she/her/ella is a delightful Dez-of-the-future, a perfect sequel to her irrepressible younger self.  Mata portrays Dez as earnest and indefatigably persistent (mulish would not be far off the mark), particularly about this project she’s trying to conscript Sloane into. Thankfully, gravitas has not quelled the vivacity and ebullience of her youth, and Sloane finds her fully as engaging as before [me too!].

And for Sloane the elder, future Sloane – now simply called S – who else to cast but Maureen Yasko^she/her, Artistic Affiliate with BWBTC and stage combat maestro extraordinaire?  Yasko masterfully portrays S as a complex character, scored by grief and regret but preserving the passionate, indomitable woman of yesteryear deep within. She’s courageous, accepting without complaint the emotional pain of truth as well as the physical battering of the time leaps. And S never loses hope. Yasko manages to convey all this; admittedly with assistance from the stellar script, but these intangibles can’t be depicted by words alone.

Also brilliant were the four Nameless, the anonymous cloaked figures who inflict Sloane’s reality, and are still around to daunt the world of S: Tina-Kim Nguyen^she/her, Deanna Palmer^she/her, Jessica Pennachio^she/her, and Thomas Russell^he/they. All four of them were superb, but Russell’s performance was remarkable. Overall, the Nameless ensemble was suitably portentous and creepy.

The cast was uniformly splendid and, happily, their excellence was matched by the production team. Director Morgan Manasa ^she/her devised some amazing conceptual strategems; with Technical Director Line Bower ^they/them and Lighting Designer Laura J Wiley ^she/her, the time jumps were brilliantly accomplished; Wiley’s Light design was crucial during the many scenic transitions in time and space. Fight and Intimacy Director Samantha Kaufman ^she/her (and how fabulous is it that one woman directs both these seemingly antithetical functions?) had the finest material to work with in BWBTC, and she honed them to flawless precision. Scenic (Rose Johnson ^they/them) and Props (Evy Burch^they/she) Designers created a stage set that transformed seamlessly and believably. I loved how Costume Designer Rachel M Sypniewski ^she/her arranged Sloane’s and S’s hair! And LJ Luthringer’s^he/him Sound thrilled me: 1960’s bands Rolling Stones, Jefferson Airplane, The Shondells … be still my heart! Stage Manager Taylor Stageberg ^she/they brought it all together superbly (and I love that they credited their cat!).

That’s the lot, and a stellar lot they are. I expect no less from the Babes of course, but it’s always a happy surprise to see how brilliantly they deliver. Their mission is to speak for marginalized voices, with stage combat a consistent storytelling tool. Rare, and fabulous!  as is THE S PARADOX!

THE S PARADOX plays Thursdays – Sundays at Factory Theatre through May 18.

Highly recommended!

Those were my first words when I left the performance of COCK to David Zak, producer and resident wizard of Open Space Arts, and he dared me to say it in my review so—here you go, DZ!

But COCK truly is. F***king amazing, I mean. Really.

I’ll introduce the venue first: Open Space Arts (OSA) is ‘dedicated to combating homophobia and antisemitism through the transformative power of creativity and cultural expression’. Nothing to argue with there! OSA Theatre is the quintessential Chicago ‘black box theatre’, and one of the smallest I’ve attended: only about 20 seats, with a stage about the size of my living room (which is pretty bloody small!) … plus, right smack in the center of the stage is this big ol’ vertical drainpipe. I always love seeing how companies work with and around the oddities and idiosyncrasies of their space, and Director Wren Wesner did a singularly splendid job with COCK.

The script: written (or premiered, anyway) in 2008 by British playwright Mike Bartlett, this is the Chicago debut. There are four characters: John (Eliot Hall), his long-time lover M (Kevin Woodrow), M’s father F (Michael Lomenick), and a woman John connects with, W (Sonya Robinson) [Obviously Man, Woman, and Father].  

And the story: John comes home to M after two weeks silent absence. The first act is John and M’s discussion of his absence and the past, present, and future of their relationship, where we establish that John has spent those two weeks with W, a woman he met passing on the street (albeit not a streetwalker) and very rapidly grew very attached to. John and M’s tête-à-tête culminates with John promising M he’ll break it off with W.

But the minute he’s away from M John starts vacillating … who is he anyway? What is he? Is he gay? he’s only ever had sex with men, but this woman is so attractive, and her ‘gap’ (we hear many appellations for this female characteristic, most of them from M and most of them unattractive) … did you get lost there? Sorry. I’m talking about John’s impression of W’s gap (she says that while John gets a hard on, she gets a gap-on) which, much to his surprise—and to ours, particularly having heard M’s singularly negative view — (not to mention our pre-conceived assumption of gay mens’ associations thereof) is a singularly positive impression.  [thank Someone for periods—the punctuation kind, not the gap kind—else that sentence might still be driveling on].

I’m not doing a very coherent job of this, am I? but that’s OK, cos this somewhat chaotic narrative is not inconsistent with the flavor of COCK – not that COCK is incoherent, and it’s certainly not drivel! but it did follow a circuitous course, with Bartlett leaving to us the responsibility of making sense of it all. Because that is just what John finds himself unable to do. Like a fundamentalist Christian, he’s desperately seeking a synopsis, a definitive sobriquet, a Revelation that will define What’s What—and thereby What’s Right and What’s Wrong. What a terrific query for election year 2024! How did Mike Bartlett know we’d need this right now? Luckily David Zak and co-producer Elayne LeTraunik did know, and they brought it to life at OSA to assist us in figuring out WTF is What with American democracy!

But I digress (no surprise there). Back to COCK.

The title is provocative; shouldn’t it be COCK & GAP? But no, the title refers to John’s confusion as to where said cock feels most at home. Some Brit producers called it COCKFIGHT—not inappropriate.

John certainly seems to be gay:  he’s had none but male sex partners all his life, his relationship with M is long-term and committed, he’s never felt any attraction to womankind … until W. So just what is John? Bi? [Though for him it’s more like Gay+1.] Naturally John has thought about What He’s Missing: having kids, belonging to the mainstream community, living a “normal” life … and so on and so forth, you know the drill.

Solution: Invite W to a dinner party where, over roast beef and red wine John will… will what? By the time it actually happens he’s promised both M and W that he will give the others their marching orders. Then the situation is further snarled by M announcing he’s invited his dad for moral support. F brings a surfeit of additional issues as well as additional attitudes to the issues already under review.

So, the story boils down to John making a Decision … does he stick with the gay relationship he knows, the man he loves, and a place that’s at least familiar, or will he choose a ‘normal’, mainstream life with this woman he can’t stop craving? Choose, John! Make a decision!

But wait! This decision is about an issue that they—we!—fervently believe is not a decision but an inborn trait! Decades of blood sweat and tears by LGBTQ activists, mental health professionals, religious leaders, and politicians has finally brought us to the widespread understanding that homosexuality (like heterosexuality) is not a choice, it’s a predilection that everyone is born with and that nobody can just change. So, in asking John to Decide, what happens to that issue? Do we bring back the conversion therapies, restore homosexuality to the DSM, return Anita Bryant to her pulpit, fire all the gay teachers and court-martial the gay soldiers? All just so John can decide where to put his cock?

The acting is extraordinary, beginning with Eliot Hall, who brings authenticity to and elicits sympathy for John’s emotional turmoil. Hall makes us see that John is not just a wishy-washy waffler; he’s genuinely torn, flummoxed by a question he never imagined he’d be obliged to answer … after all, no one should!  He projects intense chemistry with both M and W, spotlighting the degree of his conundrum.

Hall’s admirable performance is more than matched by Kevin Woodrow. M’s bewilderment is fully as unsettling as John’s, with the additional distress of total helplessness. There’s nothing M can do to resolve the situation, or even to influence it; he can only wait until John acts. And bake cheesecake. Woodrow illuminates this ferment, while never letting us (or John!) forget that John is the love of his life.  Woodrow also has terrific comedic sense. The entire script is full of wonderful metaphors, which Woodrow delivers flawlessly, bringing down the house with: “There’s so much emotional crap that orbits you, like you’re collecting space junk.” 

Sonya Robinson is a worthy foil – her performance illustrates the unenviable position W is in: unintentionally, reluctantly, involuntarily, she has fallen in love with this stranger, only to find she must fight for him in a battle she is personally disinclined for. W offers John both passion and compassion. My initial, natural proclivity was to root for M (anyone surprised by this hasn’t been reading my reviews), but Robinson made me understand her better and, if not favor her cause, at least appreciate what John saw in her. And, just BTW, she is NOT mannish!

F is in the action for only a fraction of the 90-minute run, but Michael Lomenick makes the most of that time. Lomenick reads through the script to his unwavering love for his son, both his sons. F brings us an historical aspect; he remembers the times of persecution and prison and as a father is relieved that his sons need not face this oppression.

My companion is new to Chicago theatre, especially the storefront sites; afterwards he told me he had assumed that such a small theatre would mount a “small” production. I laughed and told him, “This is Chicago, cher. There’s fully as much talent in the storefronts as at Goodman or Nederlander”, and he couldn’t but agree, particularly regarding the acting. I expect high-quality acting in the black boxes, but Lomenick, Robinson, Woodrow, and Hall [sounds like the name of a law firm innit?] sailed over even that high-placed bar.

Justin Walker managed the lighting, collaborating with Sound director Angela Joy Baldasare to signal scene changes with light and sound. Director Wren Wesner, with Teri Talo as Assistant, did a totally brilliant job with blocking; the physical space afforded them no other manner of defining scenes, and their magic let us clearly see the apartment: from the foyer, through the living room and back to the outdoor deck, as well as illustrating fluctuating moods and relationships. Talo was also Assistant to Stage Manager Desiree Stypinski; together they maintained the scaffolding for a magnificent production.

I must give a shoutout to Intimacy Coordinator Greta Zandstra: the sex was hot as hell, without a stitch of clothing shed or a single physical touch. Bravo! Masterfully done!

COCK is totally hilarious, and none of the humor is too British for us colonials. But the story is ultimately a tragedy, for John is facing the impossible; deciding whose heart he will break—including his own. No spoilers! but it’s a devilishly difficult situation, innit? and a theme with emotional, societal, political, and personal ramifications. I’ll be thinking about COCK for a long time.

And today I’m HIGHLY RECOMMENDING it!

COCK plays through May 11th at Open Space Arts

I love all things Shakespeare, particularly modern iterations and adaptations of his works, and I’ve had good experiences with Idle Muse Theatre Company. So naturally when I learned that Idle Muse was mounting a new version of "What the Weird Sisters Saw," I was pretty excited.

Fifteen years ago, when Idle Muse was in its infancy, the company’s Artistic Director Evan M Jackson conceived/created an adaptation of the tragedy "Macbeth" from the perspective of the three witches: "What the Weird Sisters Saw". And now, in 2024, with Tristan Brandon’s assistance and with several of the original actors and crew, Jackson (still Artistic Director at Idle Muse!) has revisited the witches for a complete rework of his haunting fantasy.

Jackson’s Weird Sisters aren’t ‘weird’ in the modern sense of the term, nor are they subject to the Judeo-Christian concept of evil women in league with Satan [we don’t have much truck with lots of Judeo-Christian concepts, particularly those involving women!]. No, Jackson’s Sisters are magical women, druidesses whose connections to the land, to their beloved Scotland and to the forces of Nature allows them to commune with spirits both living and dead; spirits from the present, the past, and the future. Between their provenance with their teacher Hecate and with the powerful forces of open spaces, the Sisters are able to conjure visions of events destined to unfold in the future.

Murron (Caty Gordon), the lead (eldest? strongest? she’s definitely the leader here) is having premonitions; by the pricking of her thumbs, she’s convinced that something wicked this way comes … but what – or who – is it? Her Sisters Dana (Jennifer Mohr) and Alastriona (Jamie Redwood) share her disquiet and together they concoct a potion to explore the mystery. They find riddles surrounding Macbeth, Thane of Glanis and brave Scots general under King Duncan; they prophesy Macbeth (stunningly played by Joel Thompson) will wear Duncan’s crown, but that future kings will be descended from his friend and fellow general Banquo (Troy Schaeflein) … and we all know how Macbeth feels about this notion.

Dissatisfied with mere augury, Murron becomes obsessed with not simply divining the future, but altering the actions she’s foretold. Sisters Dana and Alastriona are less sanguine, but they respect Murron and, despite their reservations, they follow her lead as she repeatedly conjures the shades of Macbeth, Banquo, and others. As Macbeth’s avarice becomes undeniable, Murron seeks to refashion his machinations and thus to redeem him. Joel Thompson rocks the role of the dark Thane, portraying an aspect of innate royalty – the gleam of nobility divined by the Sisters– that is curiously not at odds with the audience’s foreknowledge of his wickedness. Of course, despite Murron’s interventions, that wickedness gradually escalates, and the noble Macbeth forges his own doom.

Brendan Hutt is superb as The Porter, whose sporadic appearances both entertain and enlighten … though, actually, not so much with the latter, as his inebriated proclamations are not only veiled by his jocularity but are often, frankly, evasive. Frustration amplifies Murron’s unease; yet the greater the perplexity, the stronger the fascination – we all know how that works! Thus, she is lured ever deeper into the mind and motives of Macbeth, her increasingly reluctant Sisters trailing in her wake. Both Dana (Jennifer Mohr) and Alastriona (Jamie Redwood) become more distinctive in their caution of Murron’s inquest, allowing each actor to further display her skill – did I already say the cast is overall superb?

Case in point: Mara Kovacevic’s sterling portrayal of Macbeth’s not-so-sterling wife. Initially Lady Macbeth, recognizing that the witches are at cross purposes with her vaulting ambition, appears to be deliberately misleading the Sisters. No less baffling is the Lady’s descent into madness, and she further mystifies the Sisters with her macabre hand-washing and eerie mutterings. It’s so interesting to watch this play where we know the storyline of its progenitor, yet are totally absorbed with the Sisters’ nescience!

Hecate (Elizabeth MacDougald) is often onstage, covertly overseeing her acolytes, but unlike Murron she doesn’t intervene. Rather, Hecate allows Murron’s – all the Sisters’ – cabal to evolve, likewise its grisly human consequences. Only at the bloody finale does Hecate reveal herself to her subordinates and upbraid their presumption. I’m sorry we didn’t hear more from Hecate, as MacDougald was a compelling Goddess of Magic, one I’d like to have known better. Likewise, Troy Schaeflein (Banquo) also left me hungry for more of his brilliant stage presence. The story provided more opportunity for us to enjoy Watson Swift’s performance as Macduff, and Erik Schnitger as Duncan and Orion Lay-Sleeper’s Malcolm also used their limited stage time well. I’ll say it again: overall, the cast was exemplary, and each gave fine performances.

The cast was displayed by an equally amazing production crew; they were marvelous as a whole, but I must give a shoutout to a few remarkable aspects. Jennifer Mohr’s costumes were striking and accurate. Most productions I’ve seen of "Macbeth" dress the Scotsmen in kilts, but the ‘kilt’ as we know it today did not actually appear until the late 18th century, having evolved from the feileadh mor (‘big wrap’) that was characteristic in the 15th to 16th centuries; and Mohr outfitted her Scots in feileadh. I also noted that the doctor wore a plague mask, as the Black Death was a consistent threat across Europe at the time. Thank you, Jennifer Mohr, for your due diligence! And I loved The Porter’s criss-crossed belts of dangling fetishes and charms. I could have sworn I spied the head of a Barbie doll in there – if so, I forgive the anachronism in deference to Ryan Gosling’s Oscars gig. I must also offer lavish kudos to Laura Wiley and L.J. Luthringer for lighting & projection and music & sound (respectively). The collaboration of these two artists contrived both light and sound into actual cast members, so effectively did they ‘speak their lines’ of atmosphere, ambience, and tonality. Bravo!

The excellence of the fighting was no surprise to me – after all, violence designer (and assistant director) Libby Beyreis is a member of Babes with Blades Theatre Company, Chicago’s very own troupe of Weird Sisters. And I thought it appropriate for Tristan Brandon to oversee the properties; the co-adaptor of the play would have an intuitive ken [still got Gosling on the brain!] for the objects required. Stina Taylor and Breezy Snyder wisely composed a minimalist set, allowing the story to unfurl via the performances rather than through static objects. As a fervent aficionado of Chicago’s Black Box theatres, I appreciate the challenges these spaces pose for set design and was pleased to see Birnam Wood plausibly wrought without hindering the (considerable!) action.

My sole concern is one common to many – most? – Shakespearean productions: the complexity of the language often made it difficult for me to hear the lines. Granted, that difficulty is partially mine – gotta love getting older! – but some may, I hope, be remediable. For example, further rehearsals and performances will give Luthringer time to fine-tune sound levels to ensure the voices are not eclipsed – but please! without effacing any of the incredible music and … well, noises.

Elizabethan England, William Shakespeare, and the play "Macbeth" are all imperatively and inescapably masculine. With "What the Weird Sisters Saw" Jackson has toppled this patriarchy at its base: sorry fellas, that was then, this is now and it’s a women’s show! The gender imparity created thereby is vital and I wouldn’t want it attenuated in any way.

The script was extremely dense and might benefit from judicious editing. At times I felt the actors were almost tripping over their own tongues in their effort to deliver every word at a brisk (not to say breakneck) pace.
Perhaps Jackson, with text & dialect coach Carrie Hardin, could address all these matters by slowing everything down just a wee bit. The occasional judicious 1-2 second pause would give my poor old brain a chance to travel between then and now, between male and female.

Such a complex production needed all the work of stage manager Becky Warner and her assistant Lindsey Chidester, technical director Line Bower, production manager Shellie DiSalvo, dramaturg Cori Lang, and all the dozens of other people required to bring a vision before the footlights. It takes a village!

Highly recommended, "What the Weird Sisters Saw" will play at The Edge Off-Broadway Theatre through April 14, 2024.

Shakespeare’s R & J is another demonstration of just how brilliant William Shakespeare truly was, is, and ever will be. Romeo & Juliet has captivated audiences since the 16^th century. The story of the star-crossed lovers is universal, appealing to audiences from all walks of life, and stanzas from the work (e.g. ‘star-crossed lovers’) have become recognizable as allegories. Chicago’s abundant theatrical venues have given us myriad reworkings of Romeo & Juliet, proving over and over that the Bard’s works are endlessly adaptable.

But you’re not here to be sold on Shakespeare as a playwright, right? You already had that. What I’m here to say is that, though we’ve all seen many variations of Romeo & Juliet, Joe Calarco’s Shakespeare’s R & J presented the old chestnut with a twist I personally hadn’t seen before; a twist that director Amber Mandley further bent into a singular new production.

All Shakespeare’s work was, of course, originally played by all-male casts: male actors playing both male and female roles. Adaptations of his works have been stage with extensive diversity of gender-bending (it’s a wonder MAGA’s not yet banned his work!); I’ve seen many variations that were truly brilliant. Romeo & Juliet provides abundant material for presentation as an exegesis of gender, race, ethnicity, religion, politics … a wealth of lenses through which to view this enduring, universal and endlessly adaptable story.

Calarco’s Shakespeare’s R & J was originally envisioned with an all-male cast, set in an exclusive boys’ prep school, and PrideArts’ Artistic Director Jay Españo initially planned to produce it thus. However, various adjustments and scheduling conflicts resulted in PrideArts’ Managing Director Amber Mandley taking the director’s chair, and she was eager to bring more female roles to PrideArts’ stage, and she situated Shakespeare’s R & J in a Catholic girls’ school, with adolescent girl characters. Co-Assistant Directors Elissa Wolf and Magdiel Carmona brought further depths of cultural diversity and familiarity into the directorial discernment.

The four girls are designated only as Student 1 (Madelyn Strasma), Student 2 (Luz Espinoza), Student 3 (Hannah Eisendrath) and Student 4 (Isabel Lee Roden).  Their individuality was further obscured by Costume Designer Shawn Quinlan dressing them in matching school uniforms: skimpy pink pleated skirts, spit-shined black patent oxfords, pink vests and jumpers under pink cardigans and blazers, though each differentiated herself (as they do) with a slightly different vest etc. It wasn’t necessary though – the 4 actresses each created their own unique and indelible impression!

Nga Sze Chan had a helluva lot of props to keep track of, all of them oft-used: a blanket is transformed from a bed to a bridal veil; a length of red silk represents a honeymoon suite or an exsanguination, and a cane is deployed to run Mercutio through – said skewering nicely choreographed by James Napoleon Stone. Shakespeare’s R & J relied heavily on Lighting Designer August Tiemeyer to set the mood and spotlight particular events; both he and Sound Designer Valerio Torretta Gardner were well-supported by Lead Electrician Aidan Lynn Smith. And Stage Manager Elijah McTiernan managed to keep everyone and everything coherent and harmonious.

Luz Espinoza was a cuddlesome, ardent little Juliet – maybe a bit of a slapper, but delightfully so. Romeo as played by Madelyn Strasma was far less convincing a lover – or maybe there simply wasn’t sufficiently torrid chemistry between them. It didn’t seem to be an actual shortcoming for either the actors or Intimacy Director Grace Goodyear, they simply didn’t ignite one another. All the actors had to be agile and sprightly as they cavorted and wrestled, gamboled and dueled, but Isabel Lee Roden’s vivacity and marvelous comedic bearing were exceptional – this was their debut with PrideArts and they’re definitely a keeper! Hannah Eisendrath came across as a ringleader, the mastermind and instigator of the group’s revelry, and she carried this sense of dominance across all the roles she played, from Lady Capulet to Mercutio.

Shakespeare’s R & J is about breaking rules – after all, that’s what teenagers do, right? Forbidding anything at all – a book; a curfew; a lover – guarantees that adolescents will flock to it. In Shakespeare’s R & J we watch these four girls become caught up in the Montague – Capulet antipathy to enact their rebellion against the austerity of a convent school.

I do wish that theme had been fleshed out more. Romeo & Juliet was presented beautifully, the acting by all four of the cast excellent. It ain’t easy to deliver iambic pentameter fluently, and Madelyn Strasma, Luz Espinoza, Hannah Eisendrath and Isabel Lee Roden all performed superbly.  I just wish Mandley, Carmona and Wolf had contrived to show us a deeper look at Students 1, 2, 3, and 4:  four girls navigating the perils of adolescence within the suffocating strictures of a private Catholic girls’ school; four Students with enough acumen and moxie to defy the rules through the medium of a fifteenth-century Harlequin romance. Four girls who, through embodying people dead for four millennia, begin to perceive and explore their own developing bodies and greedy, voracious little minds; four girls becoming women vicariously through women who never lived, yet who live within every woman and man … such a rich vein to mine there!

Yet I walked out without a full understanding of why these four Students chose to flout the rules by reading a banned book, or why they chose Romeo & Juliet, of all the banned books (un)available. I’m not clear on just why Students 1, 2, 3, and 4 decided to enact the play rather than simply read it, and what impact this reenactment had on their developing minds, emotions, and sexuality … though certainly none of them appeared to be squicked by kissing their classmate(s)!

So, though PrideArts’ production of Shakespeare’s R&J was excellent, it was also basically unsatisfying. But I’m an optimist … I look forward to seeing what Jay Españo and Amber Mandley will bring to PrideArts’ next season!

Shakespeare’s R&J plays at PrideArts’ Theatre through March 24

I’ve loved the Joffrey Ballet for almost its entire lifetime (it was begotten just two years after I was). My first memories of seeing the Joffrey Ballet in performance date back to … the Eighties? Seventies? Any road, I’m not a joanie-come-lately fan of the Joffrey Ballet.

The Joffrey never disappoints. I’ve reviewed Joffrey Ballet several times here at Buzz Center Stage and my reviews reflect this: Joffrey Ballet never disappoints. But saying the Joffrey Ballet never disappoints is inadequate to the task of launching a review of STUDIES IN BLUE. I was transported; I was captivated; I was ensorcelled and entranced. In short, STUDIES IN BLUE is the finest program I’ve ever seen Joffrey Ballet perform. 

But I can’t just say that and go on about my day, yeah?  Right then: STUDIES IN BLUE, how do I love thee?

Hungry Ghosts - The Joffrey Ballet Ensemble

The program is three acts, Yonder Blue, Hungry Ghosts, and Hummingbird. I’ve seldom seen three ballets more dissimilar, yet each in its own unique way uplifted and harmonized with the other two to compose a perfectly unified program. Wowie.  

I’m going to snatch this opportunity to thank Artistic Director Ashley Wheater, CEO Greg Cameron, and anyone else who played a part in re-homing Joffrey Ballet at the Civic Opera House. I’ve been seeing and loving shows at the Auditorium Theatre since the early 1970’s, and it’s still a magnificent venue. I, however, have gone a bit to seed over the years, and find the Aud just a leeetle bit challenging to navigate. COH is far more user-friendly now I’m no longer quite so spry. Thank you!  

Yonder Blue was choreographed by Andrew McNicol, premiering in 2019. Yonder Blue’s music was composed by Peter Gregson, performed by the Lyric Opera Orchestra, directed and conducted by Scott Speck. It was delightful, joyful and vivacious but without straying into cloying or syrupy. McNichol reminds us that ‘yonder’ is a word that wobbles, tangible yet hard to grasp.  Yonder implies distance – from here to there – yet it remains imaginary, as once you reach ‘there’ it becomes ‘here’, and ‘yonder’ again withdraws. Jack Mehler (Scenic and Lighting Designer), captures this from the opening curtain – the dancers are silhouetted against a misty sky of blues which is slowly covered by a solid backdrop, creating the illusion of the horizon receding into the distance 'over yonder' as we are drawn deeper into the piece. 

We feel that shifting sense of space and place through both McNicol's choreography and the exquisite execution of the dancers. At one moment their movements are creaky, fractured, straining, and the next they float weightlessly through impossible lifts. If you know me, you’ll know I’m very partial to boy-on-boy dance; McNicol did one better for me with a perfectly splendid pas de trois featuring Jonathan Dole, Alberto Velazquez and José Pablo Castro Cuevas.  

‘Blue’ is another mercurial word, referring now to nature, now to human qualities and even emotions, from ‘feeling blue’ to bawdy ‘blue humor’. Yonder Blue encapsulates these many and disparate associations. The piece ebbs and flows, including an extended full-ensemble unison section which builds from a simple start of stationary forms to a full-stage cascade of whirling exuberance. 

An aside here: reading the program, I was marveling at the company’s diversity:  from Cincinnati to Jacksonville, Indiana to Utah, from Cuba, Japan, China, Estonia, Brazil, Russia, Australia. This diversity was visually evident during Yonder Blue, exposing all that winter-white skin!   

I was excitedly anticipating Hungry Ghosts, choreographed by Stina Quagebeur, as this is the first performance art I’ve attended that is inspired by ‘one of the most seismic human tragedies of modern times’: America’s opioid epidemic. See, opioid addiction is my thing – for 35 years I’ve been an addiction psychiatrist working on the streets with needle exchange programs and other outreach to the human beings ravaged by this unspeakable disease. Unspeakable indeed – there is no advocacy for addicts, and a death toll exceeding 100,000 annually elicits much editorial handwringing but virtually no direct action: jail is still, by several orders of magnitude, the standard (affordable/available/accessible) treatment for addiction.

Sorry, I just couldn’t hold that in. I’ll step down from my soapbox and return to Quagebeur’s far more eloquent litany. Her fittingly titled Hungry Ghosts has it all:  hope and longing, failure and despair, ambivalence and impotent rage and resignation. The disease is embodied by Anais Bueno and Hyuma Kiyosawa in a running pas de deux while the company animates the course of the disease: the swoop to dizzying heights and the inevitable plummet into the Slough of Despond. Jack Mehler’s brilliant Scenic and Lighting Design made ingenious use of vertical scrim panels to portray the addict’s isolation, the urgent necessity but lack of community; hunger and destitution and craving and loathing … all so poignantly expressed by Quagebeur’s choreography and the dancers’ mastery. 

Jeremy Birchall’s music was absolute perfection: alternately discordant and mellifluous; simultaneously strident and harmonic. I trust I’m not trespassing when I say that clearly neither Quagebeur nor Birchall learned about addiction by reading about it in a book – their intimate sophistication can only be gained the hard way. Thus, Quagebeur doesn’t succumb to the banal platitude of wrapping it all up with a pretty bow; rather, the ending reflects the ambivalence and uncertainty of the disease itself; death is the sole unequivocal outcome.  I was leaking tears by the end and was so glad for the standing ovation Quagebeur received for this world premiere performance – may her work advance to stages worldwide!

I was grateful for the intermission as I definitely needed time to recover after Hungry Ghosts, and my ballet buddy and I agreed to be underwhelmed by the final ballet, Hummingbird. I guess Hungry Ghosts rattled us enough to forget the cardinal rule: the Joffrey Ballet never disappoints.

Hummingbird - The Joffrey Ballet Ensemble

Liam Scarlett choreographed Hummingbird, and Lauren Strongin staged it a bit differently to the first two offerings. While Jack Mehler was Scenic and Lighting Designer for both Yonder Blue and Hungry Ghosts, David Finn’s lighting and John MacFarlane’s Scenic and Costume Design imparted a very different tableau for Hummingbird. Check out the photo – your eyes are not deceiving you; the stage truly is tilted up sharply at the rear, creating unique entrances and exits against the abstract backdrop.

Philip Glass’ music animates nine couples, in pas de deux and in company, into choreographed movement that comes from deep within: “Like an earthquake epicenter it ripples out… It has a human quality because it’s using everything you have.” Scarlett plays with our expectations – like an actor breaking the fourth wall with an aside to camera, he 'breaks' the dancers into unexpected movement. The ensemble entering with gracefully pointed limbs, only to crouch into a quick, flat-footed run-in-place garnered quite a few chuckles. Ending a fraught and emotional pas de deux with the dancers bent over and gasping for breath rather than perfectly poised added an emotional punch of realism.

I mentioned at the outset how these three pieces harmonized with each other - the treatment of the pas de deux by each piece offers a prime example. In Yonder Blue it was thematic, in Hungry Ghosts, narrative. In Hummingbird, the pas de duex sits somewhere in between - evocative, intertwining, and emotional as they thread their way in and out and around and through the ripples of movement around them.

Joffrey Ballet will perform STUDIES IN BLUE until February 25 on Thursday, Friday, Saturday evenings, and matinee shows on Saturday and Sunday, so you have no excuse to miss it! 

JOFFREY BALLET STUDIES IN BLUE at the Civic Opera House through February 25

VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!

Review by Sarz Maxwell with thanks for assistance from Eva Hare

The ballet BUTTERFLY: HOPE IN THE TEREZIN GHETTO was inspired by the diary of Holocaust surviver Helga Weiss. The concept, choreography, and Lighting Design of BUTTERFLY are the work of Julianna Rubio Slager, Artistic Director and Resident Choreographer at BALLET 5-8. Two shorter ballets formed the first portion of the program: WIND, choreographed by Steve Rooks, and COUNTERPART, another creation of Julianna Rubio Slager, who was also Lighting Designer for all productions.

WIND is aptly named; dancers in flowing skirts partner with Alfonso Peduto’s music, and we see – even feel – the movement of spring leaves dancing delicately in the gentle breeze, and the furious barrage of a stormy gale. Dancers in the first and third movements included Miranda Rubio Opsal, Lorianne Robertson, Kayla Kowach, Libby Dennen, Natalie Chinn, Jenni Richards, Katrina Clarke, Ford Tackett, Christian English and Samuel Opsal. The second movement was a pas de trois with Jonathan Bostelman, Ford Tackett, and Christian English.

COUNTERPOINT explored partnership and the thrill of equality, a pas de deux performed by Samuel Opsal and Elizabeth Marlin to the music of genre-bending string trio Time for Three. I particularly liked Wardrobe Head Lorianne Robertson’s costumes: stark black lines forming geometrical shapes on pale peach leotards. As one might expect in a dance that celebrates equality, the male and female costumes were like but not identical.

To  return to BUTTERFLY:

The ballet takes place in various locations at Terezin, differentiated using props and, most of all, projections. The projections were created by Juliana Rubio Slager with the assistance of Annika Graham and Jeremy Slager, and each projection depicted the paintings and drawings Weiss created while imprisoned at Terezin. The fourteen cast members represent actual persons whom Helga Weiss knew in Terezin. Of these fourteen, nine perished, chiefly in the gas chambers of Auschwitz.

A little historical background may be helpful here. Terezin was originally a holiday resort near Prague, reserved for Czech nobility. In 1940 the Gestapo turned the resort into a Jewish concentration camp and ghetto. Terezin was unique in that many of the detainees were scholars, artists, scientists, philosophers, and musicians. This  made Terezin a cultural camp unlike any others, earning it the sobriquet ‘Paradise Ghetto’.

More than 150,000 Jews were detained at Terezin for months or years before being sent “East”, to Treblinka, Majdanak, and Auschwitz extermination camps. 90,000 Terezin detainees were deported; 33,000 died in Terezin itself and, of 15,000 children, less than 150 survived.

Terezin was heavily propagandized by the Nazis. BUTTERFLY depicts the most notorious disinformation campaign, the “Great Beautification” of 1944, in response to Danish King Christian’s demand for a Red Cross inspection of Terezin.

The Nazis transformed Terezin for the inspection, planting gardens and renovating barracks, building shops, cafes, and playgrounds. Social and cultural events were staged for the visiting dignitaries, and the delegation was led along a painstakingly groomed route through the camp. The Red Cross reported to King Christian that Terezin was indeed quite pleasant, its inmates happy and healthy.

King Christian actively resisted Nazi deportation of Danish Jews; stating “one Dane is like another”, and wearing the yellow star symbol himself. However, Good King Christian also volunteered his own army to assist the Gestapo in rounding up gay Danes; their badge was a pink triangle and they received the same treatment at concentration camps as did Jews.

Just sayin’.

At the risk of sounding repetitious, back to BUTTERFLY.

The props were minimal but eloquent and the projections were magnificent – depicting scenes painted by Helga in Terezin, showing stone walls and concertina wire, horribly crowded bunks, piles of suitcases. Each scene of the ballet corresponded to a date in Helga’s diary, with quotations from the diary in our programs. Helga was twelve (young Helga danced by Ellington Nichols) when she arrived at Terezin in October 1941 and met her mentor Friedl Dicker-Brandeisˢ (Valerie Linsner). Again, each dancer depicted an actual historical person: teacher Irma Lauscherˢ (Lorianna Robertson), musician/conductor Rafael Schachter (Samuel Opsal), Jewish leader Heinrich Veit Simmons (Melanie Rodriguez), Pavel and Malvina Brandeisova (Christian English and Lezlie Gray); Mr. Kˢ, survivor of Nazi medical experimentation (Jonathan Bostelman), Helga’s father Otto Weisˢ (Ford Tackett) and mother Irena Fuschsovaˢ (Caedence Sajdowitz), while Miranda Rubio Opsal danced the part of Helga as an adult. The cast included four children: Zuzana Winterova (Libby Dennen), Eva Bulova (Sarah Clarke), Honza Trechlinger (John Szwast), Petr Ginz (Kayla Kowach), and Hannah Messingerˢ (Sophia Snider), the sole surviving child.

[NOTE: the symbol ˢ depicts those who survived Terezin.]

It must have been difficult dancing the parts of the so-easily duped Red Cross Delegates: Maurice Rossel (Analiese Hunter), Agnes Detlefsen (Rachel Walker) and Cecilie Kaas (Marissa Woo). Even more difficult but brilliantly performed were the four Nazi soldiers: Oberaufseherin Hildegard Neumann (Elizabeth Marlin), Oberaufseherin Elisabeth Schmidt (Katrina Clarke), Frau Gretel (Natalie Chinn) and Frau Marie [inspired by Caecilia Rojko] (Jenni Richards).

Helga was sustained by the heroic work of Friedl-Dicker Brandeis and Irma Lauscher; her story and artwork bear witness to the horror of the Nazi regime.  Even more so, BUTTERFLY celebrates Helga’s work as metaphor, a symbol of how the Jews of Terezin endured unimaginable brutality and atrocious privation through ART.

The music of BUTTERFLY includes sections composed by Terezin residents Gideon Klein and Hans Krasa, (both perished at Auschwitz); also works by Lorne Balfe, Thomas Oboe Lee, Clare Reitz, Alexander Shonert, Bedrich Smetana and Giuseppe Verde. The ballet’s name, BUTTERFLY, memorializes a poem by that name written in 1942 by Pavel Friedmann, who perished at Auschwitz September 29 1944.

One is aghast at the art that was irretrievably lost in the Holocaust. Rafael Schachter composed Defiant Requiem; its haunting performance for the Red Cross representatives was of course unrecorded and now will never be heard; Schachter perished in the 1945 Death March.

And what of all the genius extinguished before it could even be manifest? How many unrealized Rafael Schachters, Rosalind Franklins, Ignaz Semmelweis’, Howard Shores, Alexander Flemings, Emma Lazarus’, Marc Chagals, Marcel Prousts, Fritz Habers, Albert Einsteins, Leonard Bernsteins, Herman Wouks, Camille Pissarros, Gertrude Steins, Gustav Mahlers…

[I could go on for many pages before running out of Jewish geniuses, even if I only list those that are household names.]

BUTTERFLY is testament to the strength and resilience people in dire straits can derive from Art.

Similar strength and resilience were demonstrated after the performance in “The TALKBACK”, a special Ballet 5:8 tradition occurring directly after the performance, wherein Artistic Director Juliana Rubio Slager and Artists of the Company hold an open panel discussion. Each panel member described a particular scene or event that spoke to them personally. Most of the artists were in tears, as were many in the audience. Audiences were invited to ask questions; most revealed themselves as descendants of Holocaust. The panel was fully as moving as the performance.

There was but a single performance and it was poorly attended.

I don’t want to know the sort of people who missed BUTTERFLY in favor of the Superbowl.

SUNSETS: TWO ACTS ON A BEACH is a long-lost diamond by unsung genius Cal Yeomans. Yeomans, despite his myriad talents (playwright, poet, actor, artist, educator, lecturer, photographer, real estate investor, land developer, and philanthropist) was an unfortunate example of the prophet in his own land: only posthumously are his masterful contributions recognized as vital to the post-Stonewall / pre-AIDS gay theatre genre. Maybe he was a visionary; before his work as well as his life were extinguished in 2001 by AIDS he is quoted as saying: "Perhaps in years to come some young queen will find [my writings] in an old trunk bought at an auction, will read [them] and say, 'My God! Was that the way it was? Times sure have changed.' Let us pray for that anyway".

Happily, for us, Director David Zak is not an unsung genius; over three decades of work in Chicago theatre he’s amassed a mantel-full of Jeff Awards, including a special Jeff for “Fostering Diversity in Chicago Theatre”. If you’ve read my reviews, you’ll know that counts for a lot with me!  He served as Artistic Director at Bailiwick Repertory for yonks and, with co-Director Elayne LeTraunik, has taken Open Space Arts under his creative wing. OSA’s mission is to ‘foster inclusivity, promote understanding, and empower marginalized communities’ through various artistic mediums [media? – whatever].

Open Space Arts Theatre is an exemplar of the tiny storefront theatres I adore: on Wilson just east of Clark in, yes, a storefront, OSAT can seat maybe 40, if some people sit on the stairs. Director Zak was at the door to greet patrons, Lighting Designer Justin Walker offered his arm to make sure I didn’t come to grief on the stairs; and there I was, where I love best to watch theatre: immersed in the cast’s pheromone cloud.

Rick Paul gave us a perfect set, keeping it minimalist with creative multi-tasking – the table did service as a couch, a beach, a bed – and even a table!  And I loved Zach Stinnet’s playlists, recalling Donna Summers’ era dance tunes.

Costume Designer Zahrah Agha did a superb job with drag queen persona Henrietta’s gowns & etcetera, but I’m afraid I have a bone to pick with both Agha and Intimacy Designer Greta Zandstra: the press release promised nudity, but they kept their damned dance belts on – drat! and similar ejaculations!

The play is exactly what its title betokens:  two acts, on a beach, at sunset. Act One has a cast of one – John Cardone as Henry. His monologue was superb, with reminiscences ranging from droll to somber, sultry to sassy, superficial to analytical. Henry spoke several times of Him, trying to make light of but unable to conceal his anguish as he describes His defection for a younger, cuter model.

Henry was once Henrietta, a high-end drag act; now he’s “living with my mom … and that’s alright, really!” but we can’t help fearing the lady doth protest just a smidgen too much. Any road, it’s here at the beach that Henry has discovered his calling, a very special ministry. I won’t describe his precise methods, but he plies them here on the beach … or, more precisely, in the beach men’s room. As he follows the latest supplicant through the door marked MEN he delivers his final line, the title of the Act One: “The Line Forms to the Rear”.

There’s no intermission – both acts together are just over an hour – and we move right on to John (Chris Sylvie). Like Henry, John comes pretty regularly to this beach, usually at about sunset. We assume that John, like Henry, has undergone something of a reversal of fortune; from The Big City (“No, not Miami!” he tells Dan) to this small Florida town … but here he has the beach, and it’s here he meets Dan (Aaron Cappello).

Dan is Everyman and is doing pretty well for himself – nice construction job, nice wife, two nice kids – but apparently there’s something missing, cos it sure doesn’t take long for John and Dan to progress from badinage to BJ … after which Dan abruptly leaves and John’s sitting alone again on the beach months later; he’s almost given up on Dan when suddenly there he is again!

Their accidental meetings cum trysts become increasingly intimate but continue to end with Dan’s precipitous withdrawal (no, through the door … yeah). As their encounters become more and more visceral our concern grows: what will happen to John if Dan totally freaks out …?  But [spoiler!] Act Two also has a happy ending, with Dan and John serenaded by chanteuse Henrietta (John Cardone again, in full kit) singing The Man I Love.

It’s very difficult to describe this brief but compelling production without spoilers – I’m starting them already! – so you’re just going to have to trust me: see SUNSET: TWO ACTS ON A BEACH. Really. See it. You will so not be sorry.

*Extended through Sunday, March 3rd

"The Broads' Way," written and directed the one and only Ginger Minj herself, is a frolicsome foray through well-known Broadway musicals, from “Hamilton” to “The Sound of Music” (yes, you read that right: what does a drag queen do about Maria?!). In fact, the first piece was Gidget Galore singing the title song before segueing into a side-splitting lampoon of "The Lonely Goatherd." 

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me introduce the show and the showgirlz first. Ginger Minj is perhaps best known (first known, any road) as a finalist on Season 7 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, leading to appearances and engagements on both the little and the big screens. Gidget Galore got his start backstage, costuming shows and events in Central Florida. He’s been on the wardrobe team for Donna Summer, Diana DeGarmo, The Jacksons and, of course, Ginger Minj. In "The Broads' Way," Gidget abandoned his Singer to bedeck the stage with his own singin’ self. He was, naturally, responsible for the costumes in "The Broads' Way," and they were splendiferous! not to mention marvelously adapted to rapid – oftimes onstage – changes.

In the crew, Michael Burlow was Maestro Michael and Stage Manager, which must keep him mightily busy. Bob Silton was Production Manager; he has numerous Chicago theatre credits and has designed several restaurants along Chicago’s North Shore. Cee-Jay Russell, Producer and Tour Manager, keeps the company on course with his signature phrase “we will figure it out, we always do”. David Charpentier and Jacob Slane were also Producers.

Ginger and Gidget began the show with a rollicking introduction, laden with waggish double entendre, insinuation, amphiboly and equivoque. Ginger lamented, “One musician I auditioned said he couldn’t fit his organ into this tiny box”. Ginger then schooled us in “How to Be a Good Audience”, then frequently soliciting our participation all through the show. The audience was very much an auxiliary cast member in "The Broads' Way," and the gaiety [sic] of Saturday’s frolicsome fans made the show trebly enjoyable. Now don’t get me wrong – Ginger and Gidget are professionals and could have put on a good show for a house full of evangelical Republicans. But having a hundred people crooning along (obviously a showtune-savvy set) and roaring their approval at every turn – well, that’ll wring the best performance out of anyone.

Their sole musician abandoned his piano early in the show: (“It’s time for my Union break”), and none of Ginger & Gidget’s abject solicitations (the non-criminal type, mind) could restore their penis … oops, pianist. But Gidget’s Glamazon order arrived just in time: a Smart Speaker named Dyslexa. Once they learned how to properly operate the contrivance (Dyslexa does the opposite of whatever you command), the music was perfect – as should be, having been mixed by Ginger herself.

I’m not going to list all the songs they parodied (senior confession: I don’t remember them all!) but a couple stuck with me. Ginger’s performance of “As If We Never Said Goodbye” was brilliant, with the delicious final lagniappe, “I’m ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille.” At the other end of the spectrum Gidget was hilarious in her droll burlesque of “The Lonely Goatherd”. Both are multi-talented, with rich, flexible voices, lavish acting talent, and the aptitude to appear daffy that’s so crucial to successful improv. They worked wonderfully together, performing the whimsical duet “Anything You Can Do”, with ribald absurdity.

Venus Cabaret was the perfect venue for "The Broads' Way". True, it was small, but its informal seating (it’s a cabaret, hello) and bar provided the relaxed, convivial atmosphere that’s picture-perfect for camp.

I have but one criticism: I was really hoping that Ginger’s brand new cookbook cum [ha!] memoir, Southern-Fried Sass, would be available to purchase – at the bar, say? I’d so much rather give the profit directly to Ginger than to Glamazon! [Though if you are, like me, an online shopper, they have it in stock at Semicolon, Chicago’s first black-woman-owned bookstore.]
But for unlettered entertainment you can’t beat "The Broads' Way," with Ginger Minj and Gidget Galore! Highly recommended.

"The Broads' Way" is playing in extended engagement through February 4 at Mercury Theatre’s Venus Cabaret.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, not being an aficionado of animated / cartoon shows, but I figured hey, what the heck – it’s Christmas! And as it happens I have lots of good things to say about Music Theatre Works’ “Shrek: The Musical.”

It fits the bill for a holiday spectacle; it’s definitely spectacular. The performances were uniformly fabulous – from Jordan DeBose as Shrek to every last member of the ensemble there were no weak links. The orchestra, conducted by Linda Madonia, provided flawless accompaniment without ever overshadowing the voices. Laura Savage’s choreography, led by Dance Captain (and White Rabbit) Liora Lahav, showcased the cast’s talents individually and collectively.

The costumes, designed by Rachel M. Sypniewskr, were absolutely lush. It’s no mean feat to deck out dozens of fairytale creatures: ogres and princesses, a donkey and Three Blind Mice, Pinocchio, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, Alice with White Rabbit and Mad Hatter … every cast member was onstage for the finale, “This is Our Story”, and they were a sight to behold!

“Shrek: The Musical” was a major production – there were 40 people in the production team and nearly 30 in the cast, so I obviously can’t praise everyone individually. You can find all the names at Music Theatre Works’ website but I’ll just discuss those who particularly stood out for me.

Jordan DeBose was wonderful as Shrek, their voice an appealing foil to Dani Pike as Fiona. Their best number was unquestionably “I Think I Got You Beat,” and their farting competition brought down the house. The message about the ubiquity of bad experiences and the pointlessness of competitive pain was made clear via the bathroom humor that appeals so strongly to kids. As I said, the entire ensemble was marvelous, but I particularly loved Michaela Shapiro as Pinocchio, and Brian Acker gave a special flair to Captain of the Guard.

The audience is always an integral part of the theater experience, and the kids, dressed up in their special holiday outfits, were great fun to watch. There weren’t many kids in the cast, but Omi Lichtenstein (young Fiona), Shaya Harris (teen Fiona), Teah Kiang Mirabelli as Young Shrek and Ugly Duckling, and Baby Bear Lea Biwer were terrific. The Tower princess trio of Pike, Lichtenstein, and Harris singing “I Know it’s Today” was marvelous, cleverly staged and perfectly performed. Michael Metcalf played a wonderfully tantrummy Lord Farquaad [more about Farquaad later but Metcalf’s performance was spot on!]. Maddison Denault captured my heart as Dragon, and the Dragon puppet, both its manufacture and its manipulation, was masterful.

If you’ve read other reviews by me you’ll know I unabashedly play favorites – there’s always one in every cast that takes my reason away (as Shirley DeVore would say), and in “Shrek”that one was Eustace J. Williams as Donkey. His character is the most unequivocally likable, but Williams went beyond Donkey’s innate charm with flawless comedic timing and potent use of space; his entire body – particularly his ears – perfectly expressed a full range of emotions.
“Shrek: The Musical” was a wonderful production with stunning performances. I do, however, have some procedural and production concerns. I’ll start at the top with Kyle Dougan, Music Theatre Works’ Producing Artistic Director, as I assume it was he who chose this play for MTW’s 2023 Holiday special.
“Shrek: The Musical” was Much.   Too.   Long.

Two acts plus intermission ran to nearly three hours – far too lengthy for a kids show! The actors came out to the lobby afterwards for photo ops, a lagniappe that lots of kids would probably have loved but relatively few took advantage of – by the time the aisles cleared it was pushing dinnertime and most parents just wanted to get their hungry cranky kids home, fed, and put to bed. What a shame! I’m sure lots of kids would have loved to show their friends a picture of themselves with Shrek and Fiona!

Going over the program afterwards my companion and I found at least an hour of material that the show would have been improved by cutting, bringing it down to 90 minutes running time with no intermission. Property rights may have restricted making cuts in the script; in that case the producer should have simply chosen another show, especially as length was by no means the only serious problem with “Shrek.”

For these problems responsibility lies with Director Johanna McKenzie Miller. In her Director’s Note she criticized the “strict casting” of the stories, citing the outdated gender message that a princess must sit in her tower and wait for a (male) prince to rescue her. I agree, that’s problematic, but then Miller went on to make casting decisions that actually raise far graver concerns.

Since Chicago theater’s recovery from the pandemic I’ve noticed an encouraging trend to focus on relevant social issues. In September 2022 I was blown away by Babes With Blades Theatre Company’s RICHARD III, produced as a collaborative project called Making Inclusive Theatre: Richard III as Disability Art. BWBTC is renowned for their gender-bending casting and exploration of previously unexplored voices, and in Richard III they focused on Ableism, featuring a blind actress in the title role, working with a deaf director.

“Shrek: The Musical” is – or should have been – a wonderful vehicle for bringing this issue before children. After all, the song “Freak Flag” in Act II is about everyone having a bit of freakiness in them. Unfortunately, not only did Miller fail to take advantage of the opportunity, she managed to portray an exactly opposite Moral of the Story.

I had been troubled from the start that Lord Farquaad, in the movie a very short man, was played by a full-size man acting on his knees; it was cleverly engineered but it just didn’t feel right to me. Then “The Ballad of Farquaad” informed us that Lord Farquaad was not simply a short man, he was a dwarf – and therefore a “freak.”

At that point this casting became not just troubling but actively offensive. Peter Dinklage showed us that a Little Person with acting talent need not – should not – limit his career to playing elves and fairies. I imagine Dinklage was already engaged when Miller was casting “Shrek: The Musical,” but Chicago’s actors certainly include multi-talented Little People, and Farquaad should absolutely have been played by one of them. The Broadway premier of “Shrek: The Musical” in 2008 cast a full-height actor as Farquaad. One might have hoped that 15 years later they would do better.

Miller’s ableism didn’t stop with Farquaad – incredibly, it got worse. Donkey’s song “Make a Move” featured backup by the Three Blind Mice, who at one point swing their white canes up to mimic microphones. The performance was truly funny – until Donkey snatched the cane away from the lead Mouse to use as a microphone himself.

NO.

Under no circumstances whatsoever is it OK to show kids that it’s funny to snatch away a disabled person’s mobility aid. Would people have laughed if Donkey had knocked a character out of a wheelchair and then done wheelies with it?

There is a really ugly history in this country of stage shows where majority demographic actors would dress and perform as caricatures of minority people with the intent of mocking or villainizing them. These shows, like SHREK, were seen at the time as good, wholesome family entertainment. But I never expected that in 2023 I'd be attending an ableist minstrel show.

"Shrek"could – should! – have sent a powerful inclusion message to kids: we all have our quirks and foibles and even a King may be a little freaky. This makes “freaks” normal. Instead, “Shrek: The Musical” showed kids that disabled peoples’ mobility devices are mere comic props, and Little People are true freaks who must be disguised behind Normal people in dwarfism blackface.

“Shrek: The Musical” is a well-performed show, but I advise you to think twice before letting your kids see it … and if you do decide to take them, make sure they’ve had an after-lunch nap! “Shrek: The Musical” plays at Northshore Center for Performing Arts in Skokie through December 31.

Charles Dickens wrote A CHRISTMAS CAROL in December 1843, and by February 1844 London stages were mounting productions of the work. A CHRISTMAS CAROL is a classic, encompassing all those things we say about ‘classics’: it is iconic and traditional; it’s popular and precious (I’m flashing on Gollum as Jacob Marley’s ghost) as well as familiar, universal, standard…. In other words, I doubt there’s anyone reading this review who needs the plot described or its message debated.

And surely nobody in this ol’ town need ask: “Where is A CHRISTMAS CAROL playing?” The Goodman Theatre has staged this show annually for forty-five years, and Larry Yando has played Ebenezer Scrooge for the past 15 of those. Traditional and familiar indeed! I’ll warrant Goodman’s new Artistic Director Susan Booth had a few opening-night jitters about how Chicago would respond to her management of this solemn custom; she could get sympathy from Jessica Thebus – this is only the third holiday season she’s been its Director. But I’d say both can rest in heavenly peace – A CHRISTMAS CAROL totally works.

I’m an habitue of the tiny street front theatres in Lakeview and Edgewater, so for me it was an adventure simply perusing the program – in Playbill! rather than skulking behind a QR code icon. I often see a Fight Director in the production staff, but Andrea Gentry’s role as Flight Director is a new one on me. She did it brilliantly with the airborne Ghost of Christmas Past (Lucky Stiff), who flew covered in spangles and wearing a glowing crescent moon crown. Goodman Theatre has made prolific use of modern technology and staging techniques to bring us a truly awe-inspiring production. The sets (Todd Rosenthal) were ingenious, from the homely Cratchit family kitchen to fantastical trips through the sky, all accentuated by Keith Parham’s masterful lighting. And the sound! Choralists frequently appeared singing carols in assorted languages, often accompanied by ensembles including French horn, flute, concertina, accordion, guitar and fiddle. The sound design as a whole was wrought by Richard Woodbury and Pornchanok Kanchanabanca and directed by Malcolm Ruhl. Composer Andrew Hansen provided lovely originals for the occasion. The highest compliment I can pay them is to say I often didn’t hear the soundtrack, but I felt it throughout.

The show opened with Rika Nishikawa singing a Ukrainian carol, “Siva Zozulenka”, whose lyrics speak of a bird offering blessings and peace—a felicitous prayer for the holiday season in beleaguered Ukraine. This acknowledgement of the chaos devastating our world was as appropriate as it was appreciated.

So … alright, already. I could go on devising ways to make lists of names and titles reasonably coherent and interesting, utilizing gigabytes of characters and multitudinous synonyms for ‘fantastic’, but why? You can find all that information in the reviews from the major newspapers. I concur with their judgments of the show’s quality: it was truly spectacular. But why should I reiterate all that? Suffice it to say the production was marvelous, from the steadfast brilliance of the crew to the superb performance by every single member of the cast. Truly a magnificent work … do see it! But for now, I have some other thoughts I’d like to discuss.

Let’s start with appearances. Goodman Theatre is apparently taking the idea of inclusion seriously; the diversity in race, color, nationality, gender, and body type was remarkable. It was not, however, always congruent with the story. For example: I heartily celebrate casting an African American Tiny Tim, and Christian Lucas was terrific, up to and including “God bless us, everyone!”. But I found it jarring to see him surrounded by the totally white bread Cratchit family. Nobody knows just what affliction caused his lameness (polio? rickets?) – are we to believe this arcane ailment also produces cutaneous hyper-melanation?

And as one who’s spent a lifetime battling love of food and sedentary habits, I applaud the inclusion of cast members who don’t conform to the Barbie ideal of feminine habitus… but weren’t some of those characters supposed to be tubercular? These dissonances tend to make the casting appear motivated more by diplomacy than thematic consonance. There’s a fine line between celebrating diversity and being PC.  We each define that line’s position individually, and we all feel a twitch when venturing too close to that line. I twitched a bit during A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

(L-R) Daniel José Molinaand Amira Danan in Goodman Theatre's 'A Christmas Carol'

Dickens wrote A CHRISTMAS CAROL occurring in the present – the 1844 present. I don’t wish to cast aspersions on the aptitude of the average theatregoer for deciphering a metaphor, but you’ll notice Dickens hadn’t that sort of faith in his audience – he kept it simple, setting the action in the present as a social commentary on the present—1844.

I’d like to see Bob Cratchit’s role taken by LaToya Jones, a single mom of three who’s working at Walmart til closing on Christmas Eve and doesn’t dare ask for the day off for fear she’ll lose her job. Her meagre salary isn’t so much the issue as the benefits. Without health insurance what would become of her youngest son with cerebral palsy?  Defining the role of Ebenezer Scrooge is the real puzzle—the casting call would be humongous. Do we use her boss? Walmart’s CEO? Senator? Too many possibilities!

With these traditional productions it’s a challenge to inject something new. Larry Yando contrives to offer new (and effective!) comedic twists to his Scrooge. We saw delightful innovations from costume designer Heidi Sue McMath and mask designer Sarah Bendix. But I’m talking about a much bigger variation: how about a modern interpretation? Joffrey Ballet gave us a Chicago-based Nutcracker (and it’s brilliant!). I’m suggesting a more complex alteration, relocating the story in time as well as locale. Hundreds of playwrights have applied that sort of exegesis in adaptations of The Bard – how about Boz?

Highly Recommended.