Displaying items by tag: Stage 773

Veteran actress Tandy Cronyn, the daughter of legendary actors Hugh Cronyn and Jessica Tandy, helms ‘The Tall Boy’, in a solo performance. The award-winning play centered around the matron of an orphanage and three young boys, all convincingly played by Cronyn, is a meticulous look at what happens to child refugees in the aftermath of World War II.

Written by British playwright Simon Bent and directed by David Hammond, ‘The Tall Boy’ is based on "The Lost," a short story by Kay Boyle. The play premiered in Chicago, Thursday, December 5, at Stage 773 on Belmont Avenue.

The opening scene could easily be depicting the events of today as we see Cronyn, in army fatigues, sitting at a desk attempting to write a memo on how to treat unaccompanied minors or DPs (displaced persons). No force can be used, she notes, but pressure can be applied with carrots – more food rations or other inducements.

The matron is struggling with the situation and what she is required to do. We see her move from one distraction to the next across the simple stage filled with a cot, wooden crates, and makeshift table before finally taking pleasure from a bite of chocolate and settling back at her desk poring over the memo and letters.

The war, which ravaged much of Europe, set refugees – men, women, and small children – on the move in search of shelter, security, and hope. "It's like a puzzle people dropped and broke all over Europe," the matron laments. But as refugees surged across borders, a question that arose among those in power was, "What to do with them?"

That question is perfectly illustrated in the circumstances of the three young boys who have come under the matron's care. The boys, a 15-year-old Czech, a 14-year-old Pole, and a 12-year-old Italian, are vividly portrayed by Cronyn as she seamlessly shifts back-and-forth between each character.

The performance is even more stunning as we watch the ease with which she goes in and out of the varied accents: Not the accents of their native homes, however. The boys, fresh from the care of American GIs before reaching the orphanage, had picked up the accents of their caretakers. They had imprinted with the soldiers, picking up a Southern accent, a Brooklyn accent, and a Jimmy Cagney accent, the matron tells the audience.

And through this compelling point of view, we learn of the boys' powerful connections with those U.S. servicemen and of their desperate desire to join them in the U.S.

One boy, in particular, Tall Boy, the one with a Southern accent picked up from his army buddy, Charlie, a black man from the South, is convinced they will be reunited. Charlie promised him.

But it is up to the matron to gently explain the state of race relations in the U.S.

The young boy, faced with the harsh realities of war for most of his life, is again forced to face another harsh reality: All those who fight for freedom are not necessarily free themselves.

What makes ‘The Tall Boy’ resonate with such an eerie sense of Deja Vue is the feeling that this story could easily lead the evening news today. The anti-immigration sentiments rampant in the U.S. and across Europe in the 40s are just as prevalent in many countries now. And the term, unaccompanied minor, is just as much a part of our lexicon in 2019 as refugees from war-torn countries from all over the world whether in Latin America, Northern Africa, or the Middle East, desperately search for shelter, security and most of all hope.

History is a repetitive teacher, it seems, and the governments of countries worldwide are recalcitrant students when it comes to the state and status of refugees and the ultimate question, "What to do with them?"

In a Q&A session after the performance, Cronyn discussed how she acquired the rights to this story and commissioned a stage adaptation from Bent. She worked with Hammond over eight years developing and tightening up the script as well as working on her ability to assume multiple characters and accents without hesitating or missing a beat.

‘The Tall Boy’ first premiered in August 2012 at the University of North Texas, and in the following year, was presented by The Clarence Brown Theatre restaged for their Carousel Theatre by Bruch Reed.

In 2014 the play moved to New York playing three sold-out performances on Theatre Row on 42 Street as part of the United Solo Theatre Festival, where it won the Best Adaptation Award. In 2015, it played The John Drew Theater at Guild Hall in East Hampton as part of the 2015 JDT Lab new play series.

The award-winning play returned to New York in September at the 10th Anniversary Solo Festival as one of the shows invited to participate in its "The Best Of" category featuring critically acclaimed and audience favorites from previous Solo festivals.

‘The Tall Boy’ is now in a limited run at Stage 773 through December 15. For more information, visit www.stage773.com.

Invisible, a new play by Mary Bonnett, tells a provocative story about a little known slice of history – the emergence of the women’s arm of the Ku Klux Klan – the WKKK. Bonnett is also artistic director of Her Story Theater, and has produced eight such works with powerful social messages.

Directed by Cecelie Keenan, Invisible (the KKK was known as the "Invisible Nation") is set in 1920 in Mound, Mississippi (a site of a native burial grounds). It centers on a trio of ladies - Doris, Lucinda, and Mabel - who are marketing Women’s KKK memberships through the social media of the day – door to door solicitation, marches, and nasty gossip about those who won’t join.

The poisonous dynamics are reminiscent of the ominous thumb of group-think social pressure seen in The Crucible, or Tracy Letts' The Minutes, but with a Southern drawl. Starting from a baseline of racism against African-Americans, the WKKK ladies of the 1920s welcomed only Protestant Northern Europeans and Anglo Saxons to their group.

Those who were unreceptive were shunned socially. Pro-scripted categories of white people – Catholics, Jews, immigrants – weren’t even approached, and along with black people, were targets of venomous attacks by the women’s group.

Interested in reducing marital violence and advancing education, these women were liberated on some levels. They had won the vote in 1920, and voiced ambition for loosening male dominion over political power. But this was restricted to advancing the fortunes of nice, Christian, white ladies like themselves. (Historically the group got the Texas Schoolboard to prohibit hiring Catholics as teachers.) Like the KKK, the women were nativists, anti-Semitic and anti-Catholic, organizing “Poison Squads” to denigrate enemies, and boycott immigrant-owned businesses.

“I hate talking this way,” says Lucinda before launching into another specious character assassination. “I really am a good person.”

The Ku Klux Klan issued the ladies’ chapters an organizing handbook, and Lucinda Davis (Barbara Roeder Harris) reads its advisories to her daughter-in-law Doris Davis (Megan Kaminsky), and Mabel Carson (Morgan Laurel Cohen) in planning sessions. Memberships in the WKKK are $10, which covers the cost of the robe and hood.

Mabel, the protagonist in the play, is an aspiring officer in the Mound chapter of the ladies KKK, encouraged by her husband, Tom Carson (Brad Harbaugh) into joining to advance the fortunes of their general store. An outsider, Mabel comes from Missouri (a Union state in the Civil War). As she witnesses Lucretia and Doris abuse David Stein (Richard Cotovsky), a Jewish reporter from the Chicago Tribune, Mabel pushes back, but only so far.

“Since when did we become so inhospitable to strangers?” she asks.
“Since these Jews and immigrants started taking over our country,” Lucinda replies venomously, pressuring Mabel until she turns Stein out in the night.

The performances and production values are good, with sets by Kevin Rolfs and costumes by Shelbi Wilkin. Mabel and Tom are a convincing couple with good chemistry. Harbaugh registers Tom’s pain convincingly, though Cohen’s conflicted Mabel cries so often that even the script calls it out.

The play is burdened with a subplot that seems forced, to presumably to add a dramatic structure to Invisible. Likewise some questionable subplots are forced into the mix.

For example, Stein is driven into the swamp where he is rescued by the mysterious 11 year old Ghost Girl (Maddy Fleming is quite good in her role). She brings him to her foster home on a prehistoric Indian Mound where she lives with Jubal (Lisa McConnell offers a boisterous performance).

The one person of color in this show, exotic, exuberant multi-ethnic Jubal, a former Chicago artist and sideshow performer, is the lone complainant about Klan-led injustice to black people – drumming and shouting in protest as corpses from lynchings pile up on the mound near her home. When Tom Carson tells her she will go to hell for her behavior, she drawls, “I am in hell, Master Tom – I lives in Mississippi!”

Jubal later convinces the reporter Stein to pitch a story about lynchings, and the Tribune agrees to cover it. A worthy endeavor, but a distraction from Invisible’s main story.
Nevertheless the performances are good, and the fundamental storyline strong enough to overcome these diversions. Bonnett’s works for Her Story Theater are aimed at “shining a light on women and children in need of social justice and community support.”

Invisible is intriguing, with its anti-immigrant tones resonating strongly today. And it shows how easily a woman can pressured socially down a perfidious path. But in highlighting the struggle of the protagonist Mabel amidst the racial depradations of the Klan against black people, the script indirectly conjures up another contemporary struggle – toxic white feminism. It's recommended. Invisible runs through November 3, 2019 at Stage 773, 1225 W. Belmont in Chicago. 

Chicago is a blue-collar town that loves its blue-collar music. Blues, jazz, soul, punk, heavy metal, and hip hop. Each of these genres has been taken to new heights by legendary Chicagoans but were ultimately borrowed from their originators. That all changed in the early ’80s, from the underground came a sound we now know as House music. A bricolage of high diva vocals, Italo disco, turntables, and a 909-beat machine. The musical golden child of Chicago is an unorthodox sound that’s injected euphoria into the ears of listeners around the world. A sound that’s been studied, experimented and replicated by the most popular DJs of our time and can still be heard on the Billboard Hot 100 today. 'Revolution Chicago' is the play that steps up to the task of telling the story of House music’s creation and rise. It wants you to leave the building pumping your fist high in the air but instead leaves you wondering if that story was even told.

'Revolution Chicago' is the story of Chicago’s very own Mickey “Mixin” Oliver and his rise as a celebrated DJ. Beginning with Mickey Oliver getting ready to play the biggest show of his life in Las Vegas then goes into a long flashback of Mickey’s humble beginnings, his troubles at home and how it inspired his approach to music. The story then gives us the tale of Chicago’s WBMX radio and how it struggled to compete with the other popular, well-funded radio stations. WBMX radio program director Lee Michaels has an epiphany that tells him to recruit the hottest DJ’s in town and broadcast their talents to revitalize the program. The star DJ being, of course, Mickey Oliver.

From there, it’s hard to explain where the play takes you. You get moments of the actors dancing to house music to attempts of sketch-like comedy to attempts of a heartfelt musical number. Eventually, the play goes back to the main story and tops it off with the success of House music and Mickey Oliver and then the end.

Mickey Oliver’s 'Revolution Chicago'; written, directed and music by Mickey Oliver, calls itself a lighthearted musical with a comedy twist. The play achieves its light-heartedness by not taking itself too seriously except for that one scene where Mickey learns of House Music pioneer Freddie Knuckles death. That scene is then followed by a sad musical number that leaves you wondering if Freddie Knuckles was ever mentioned earlier in the play.

Unfortunately, Revolution falls flat on almost every aspect it tries to achieve. As a comedy, the jokes the characters tell one another are cheesy and forced. The comedic characters come off as awkward and out of place. It wants to be a musical, but the numbers are not there to move the story along nor do they enhance the story in any way. Their musical pieces inserted in between scenes to showcase Mickey Oliver’s earlier work.

However, Revolution’s young cast does well in showcasing their talents on a very intimate stage. They carry the task to sing, dance, and move props on and off the stage. They do it all with ample energy, but their performances suffer because the material they have to work with is very, very dry. The play wants you to feel for Mickey Oliver’s character. They want you to laugh at, laugh with, and care for him (and only him). Instead, the play will have you scratching your head from beginning to end.

The beginnings of House music, those who started the movement, and its impact is a story that needs to be told. 'Revolution Chicago' wants to provide that story but loses its way in wanting to be multiple things at the same time and loses its audience by being unsuccessful in all of them.

Through September 29 at Stage 773.

As the Chicago premiere of Dave Malloy’s Ghost Quartet was set to start, a cast member walked across the stage, stopping to thank us for attending before adding, “See you on the other side,” in the spookiest voice and with the spookiest face, setting the stage for more than an hour of spooky musical and musicality to come.

I was not too familiar with the content of Malloy’s “song cycle” before the show, only aware that he’d also penned the renowned Tony winner, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812. I’d also given a preliminary listen to some of Ghost Quartet’s soundtrack during morning train rides, finding a favorite here or there among the play’s songs, but leaving myself in the dark as to its story.

Having seen the show now, I’m still not sure the story is any clearer, but I’m pretty sure that’s purposeful (and why it’s referred to as a “song cycle”). And I’m pretty sure that titling it a “Quartet” is a perfect label. Because over the course of an hour-and-a-half (with no intermission), the story (or stories, as Poe and Scheherazade and Thelonious Monk and a telescope and a bear and a subway and, I think, Little Red Riding Hood, are all mashed up together) became secondary to everything else the audience was offered. And because over the course of said production (directed by Ed Rutherford), the four-piece cast acts much as a classical or vocal quartet does — playing with and off one another to deliver a delightful and disparate musical program.

The feel of a musical program (as opposed to a musical musical) is highlighted with the introduction of each of the 20 tunes — each “track” presented as part of an album or a mixtape. Some of the songs are part of a greater whole (perhaps this could be described as a “concept album”?), but many stand alone on their own musical merits. The ethereal “Starchild” is equal parts Bowie and ballade. “Any Kind of Dead Person” rollicks and frolics into Klezmer territory. “Fathers and Sons” is a duet, both vocally and via cooperative percussion. And “Four Friends” is one of the better drinking songs I’ve heard in quite some time (seriously, I wish I’d known that chorus back in my whiskey-drinking days!).

But each of those songs, and the other 16 that make up the show, are only as powerful or playful or seductive or stunning as the four extraordinary talents who give them life. And what extraordinary talents each of the four cast members possesses.

Possessed of extraordinary talent both vocally and physically, Amanda Raquel Martinez (the one whose spooky salutation greeted us) brings the chills throughout. At times displaying an operatic soprano, at others displaying the ability to contort her face into a possession that’d make Linda Blair’s head spin, Martinez had my focus through the show, and my musician’s admiration, as well, as she played ukulele, guitar, accordion, and percussion throughout.

Martinez’s counterpart Rachel Guth earned my equal admiration, come to think of it. Going from vixenish to virtuous, from gangly and girlish to sultry and seductive, Guth displayed an acting range only bolstered by her timeless look and her ability to sing anything from heartbreaking ballad to boozy barroom belter.

But if it seemed I couldn’t peel my gaze from Martinez or Guth, I think the cast member I watched with the most awe was Alex Ellsworth. Ellsworth played the cello for the entire show, grounding the quartet in its stringed roots. And while he played various roles (and some percussion), it was Ellsworth’s ability to make the cello just about anything but a cello that kept drawing my eyes and ears to his corner of the stage (decorated eerily and beautifully by Jeremy Hollis, I should add). At times it was a violin, at others a fiddle. When needed it provided ethereal sound effect. And at one point it was held on Ellsworth’s lap like a giant banjo and strummed with a pick. About the only thing Ellsworth’s cello didn’t do was harmonize with the other three actors — thankfully its owner’s got an enviable knack for vocal harmonies that turned a trio into a foursome.

And the fourth of the foursome, T.J. Anderson, I’d liken to that oft-forgotten stepchild of the string quartet, the viola, if you don’t mind me keeping on with that analogy. While his castmates might have gotten the juiciest parts to play (remember, this story’s made up of many stories, so each actor fills quite a few roles) and the choicest songs to sing, Anderson holds the whole thing together. He does so on the piano, which he plays for most of the show (accompanied here and there by man-behind-the-curtain musical director Nick Sula). He does so while pounding a tom-tom or while donning a black leather jacket. He does so by making each of the other three better and the sum of their parts greater.

So, if you’re looking to see four of our city’s talented actor/singer/musician types who I hope we all come to know better tackle a “song cycle” that you’ll leave knowing better, catch Black Button Eyes’ Ghost Quartet at Stage 773 from now until August 17.

The Physical Theater Festival, running through June 9 at Stage 773, is an exciting opportunity to really enjoy theater from around the world.

It overcomes the biggest barrier to shows from abroad – language – by reducing or eliminating the spoken script, subordinating it to broad movement, pantomime, facial expressions - that convey as much or more than words do. It also shows off a performance style that seems to spring from improvisational roots, while drawing the better aspects of mime.

Now in its sixth year, the Physical Theater Festival runs in tandem with workshops by these accomplished global artists,for actors interested in learning the techniques. held in the same Stage 773 location at 1225 W. Belmont. It includes performers from Brazil, India, UK, Canada, Belgium and other countries, with acts that run from 60 to 90 minutes.

We had a chance to catch two of them – Next Door, performed by Out of Balanz, a duo from Finland and Denmark; and Helga: Life of a Diva Extraordinaire, a one-woman show by the Kallo Collective of Finland, performed by Henni Kervinen, a circus artist. It is nearly wordless, and both highly entertaining, and quite distinctive. Helga is performed as a caricature, and exaggerated protrait of an apparently crabby and lonely old woman spending her days reading the paper and drinking bitter expresso. But wait - she ahd a past, a glamorous and exciting past. She dispells our prejudices about her condition by moving onto a trapeze in a spoof of a high wire act. 

Next Door was a poignant telling of the story of a man in Copenhagen, Ivan Hansen, who becomes aware, belatedly, of the death of an elderly man in a neighboring apartment. The two were in close proximity – they were separated by the wall about 18 inches thick between their domiciles – but weren’t close at all.

Ivan learns, about a month after the fact, that his elderly neighbor had collapsed and died just the other side of his bedroom wall, probably while Ivan was standing by inches away. This realization triggers an hour-long depiction of his upbringing in Copenhagen, with reenactments of his best friends enclouters, the apartment in which he was raised with his brother, times with his parents, and his youthful adventures with his buddies.

The digressions are tremendously entertaining, with brief narrative transitions (in English), as the two characters move us to insights into our individual human conditions. It was very powerful. Here's a traler to give you a sense of what a performance is like:

The Festival begain in 2014, when Alice da Cunha and Marc Frost originally launched the Chicago Physical Theater Festival through the Artistic Associate program at Links Hall. The inspiration for the Festival drew upon their combined experience in London as physical theater students at the London International School for the Performing Arts (LISPA). Moving from London to Chicago, they were inspired to start a new festival to promote a more progressive, fresh and physical approach to theater-making in Chicago. Do try to catch one or more of these shows for an exceptional experience. And mark your calendar for the next series in 2020, so you don’t miss it. www.physicalfestival.com 

Has anyone ever knocked on your door trying to sell you something? Magazines? Cookies? What about religion? No? Me neither. A new Chicago musical-comedy utilizes a familiar character-driven plot line of two Mormon missionaries knocking on doors, only to discover a new friendship, and themselves along the way. It’s not The Book Of Mormon, this is The Book of Merman, the off-Broadway show showing in select cities across the country.

Two missionaries spreading the word about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they find themselves at the door of Ethel Merman, hilarity ensues in a diva-driven journey featuring original songs by Leo Schwartz. The Book of Merman did not have much substance. There was a familiar story line of a closeted gay Mormon man who secretly loves musical theater who meets one of his idols (and he just happens to have her biography in his backpack next to his bible!). Then there’s something about Ethel Merman (the undisputed first lady of musical theater who died in 1984) is- spoiler - not who she says she is! She’s only pretending to be Ethel Merman. The characters find themselves in each other, complete strangers, and they shimmy and box step their way into no ones hearts while using jazz hands. To top it off, the vocals could hardly make it past the second row of of the 50-person music box theater at Stage 773.

With the The Book of Mormon’s monumental success, it’s easy to see how utilizing a similar character-driven plot could work. But switching out character development for stereotypes and bad vocals does not make a great production. And I have to wonder if religious soliciting is still a thing or if it’s a dying fad. Unfortunately for The Book of Merman, I think it too is a dying fad.

Presented by Flying Elephant Productions, The Book of Merman is playing at Stage 773 through January 6, 2019. Run time: 90 minutes, no intermission. For showtimes and tickets visit https://www.stage773.com/show/merman.

Just in time for Halloween comes Hell in a Handbag’s The Golden Girls: Bea Afraid! The play’s name itself probably tips most off that audiences will be in for one helluva ride. Handbag found much success in the past couple of years creating their own hysterical episodes of The Golden Girls, Vol 1 was extended twice and moved to a larger theater while Vol 2 also made waves. So, a Halloween special featuring our four favorite seniors – why not?

Artistic Director David Cerda and company are working double time right now performing in Artificial Jungle at 7:30 p.m. (through October 28th) followed by Bea Afraid! at 10:30 p.m. To say this theatre company works hard is an understatement. And one thing is for sure – there’s a whole lot of funny in each production.

Bea Afraid! gives us two Halloweeny episodes, the first a clever whodunit that gets sillier by the second (that’s a good thing) followed by a demon possession that you will never forget. As laughter-filled as the second episode was, my friend walked away saying, “That actually kind of scared me.” So, laughs and scares – the best of both worlds – the treat followed by the trick. Between scenes Golden Girls trivia is held and tongue-and-cheek prizes are handed over to the lucky winners, such as the lady who sat in front of me that was handed a tube of anti-itch crème. How well do you know the gals?

Cerda returns as Dorothy displaying the same dominance over the role that helped make Vol 1 such a smash hit while Ed Jones reprises his role as Rose and commands a laugh just about every time a line is delivered. Adrian Hadlock also rejoins the cast and again nails the role of Dorothy’s razor-sharp witted mother, Sophia. Grant Drager is ever so saucy as our beloved, loose-legged, Blanche, a role that AJ Wright played so well in the first of the hilarious franchise. The cast is rounded out by such brilliantly humorous talents as Chazie Bly, Michael S. Miller, Michael Rashad, Duane W. Taylor, Robert Williams and Maureen SanDiego, who stars as the evening’s hostess.

Created by David Cerda and directed by Becca Holloway, this is a Halloween show not to be missed. Handbag gets another feather in their cap for yet another hysterical production, leaving us to eagerly await the next Golden Girls adventures - please say there will be more!

The Golden Girls: Bea Afraid! Is being performed at Stage 773 through November 2nd. For tickets and/or more show information visit www.handbagproductions.org.

Plays like Flying Elephant Productions’ ‘Defacing Michael Jackson’ are exactly what the Chicago theatre scene is for. This innovative new play by Aurin Squire won the Lincoln Center Theatre one act contest in 2014 and makes its area debut at Stage 773. Before putting on your sequined glove, keep in mind that this play about Michael Jackson isn’t a biography of his troubled life, but rather an allegory about the parallels between the King of Pop and gentrification. Something about this work feels raw and maybe even slightly unfinished, but the sharp and unpredictable dialogue put words to ideas or feelings most of us would rather ignore.

Alexis J Roston directs this sparse production. Much like the children in the play, Flying Elephant Productions seems to be operating on a shoe-string budget. That’s just fine, because you can’t buy enthusiasm and this cast has plenty of that. Roston has made her career about creating more African American visibility in the Chicago theatre community, tapping her for this project seems like a no-brainer.

‘Defacing Michael Jackson’ is about a group of black kids in a poor suburb of Miami in 1984 who worship Michael Jackson. For Jackson fans, you’ll know this is right around the time ‘Thriller’ became the album of the century, making Jackson the biggest celebrity in the world. This was of course before all the extreme face work, skin tinting and misconduct allegations. By all accounts, Jackson was the most successful black person in the world and his fans admired him for being ‘self-made.’ Fan club organizers Frenchy (Jory Pender) and Obadiah (Christopher Taylor) attempt to create a mural for their idol until a new, white kid moves to town and wants to join their club. New kid Jack (Sam Martin) is also a huge Michael Jackson fan and with his father’s money is able to sweep in and help get the mural painted, meanwhile taking all the credit. As tensions run high between the kids, their socioeconomic circumstances, and the sordid life of the world’s greatest pop star, Squire makes his point that we as a society let this happen and at times even relished in the breakdown. Jackson’s image and music are an incredibly smart metaphor for the cultural misappropriation and subjugation that has gone on for centuries.

The action of the play stays mostly around 1984, but you’d have to live under a rock to not be familiar with the slow-moving car crash that was Michael Jackson’s life through the 90's and 00's. You’d also have to be clueless to be unaware of how bad inner-city life was in America during the early 90's. As the kids discuss how the mural faded over the years while they grew up, it churns up many well-composed observations about how we dispose of celebrities after taking everything we can from them. Much the way that society has discarded entire demographics once they are no longer useful.

‘Defacing Michael Jackson’ isn’t exactly an apology for Michael Jackson, but it is written for anyone who was ever a fan. It’s a story of impoverished children coming to terms with the near impossibility of breaking the cycle of poverty.

Through August 12 at Stage 773. 1225 W Belmont Ave. 773-327-5252.

Margaret and I have had to wait nearly thirty years to enjoy another production of Emerich Kalman’s “Die Csardasfurstin”, often translated as “The Csardas Princess” or “The Gypsy Princess”, and Folks Operetta’s production running at Stage 773 through July 22 was well worth the wait. The Csardas, or Czardas, is a Romani gypsy dance which starts out slowly and builds to a wild, exciting finish. The plot is by no means original – it’s the classic story of the rich young industrialist, Edwin Weylersheim, falling for the low-born and “cheap” cabaret singer, Sylva Varescu, who is socially unacceptable to Edwin’s upper class family. Generally accepted as the finest of Kalman’s compositions and the most popular operetta in European houses, “The Csardas Princess” inexplicably has been overlooked in the United States in favor of the vastly overdone, yet not in the least superior “Fledermaus” and “Merry Widow”. Not to disparage two lovely operettas, but after having seen or performed in dozens of Fledermice and done an equal number of Widows, we have no need to ever see either again. Many thanks to Folks Operetta for bringing this delightful gem to Chicago in an enthusiastic performance.

Written in 1915 at the inception of The Great War, “The Csardas Princess” presages the racial and class distinctions, political upheaval, and economic disaster which would wrack Europe for the next half century. The subtle reference to the strife that was soon to envelope the world gives it an edge completely lacking in other popular operettas. After all, Varescu is a Romani gypsy name and the Csardas is a Magyar song form. This would have been blatantly obvious to a Viennesse audience in 1915, and both ethnic groups soon would become victims of Hitler’s racial cleansing. With a thoroughly competent new translation by Artistic Director Gerald Frantzen, some of the original period references were diminished, but were replaced by subtle references to our current social and political state of affairs which made “The Csardas Princess” unusually relevant to the 21st Century audience.

“Csardas Princess” was charmingly and crisply staged by Gerald Frantzen, in a way that made complete sense of a typically convoluted plot. The only rather odd staging devices were an opening unaccompanied “prequel” featuring the three principal characters as children. Although well performed by the silvery voiced Clara Frantzen as Sylva, Kaden Krumrei as Edwin, and Emily Churchouse as Edwin’s cousin Stasi, the implication that Edwin and Sylva knew each other from childhood blurred racial and class distinctions, diminishing the essential dramatic conflict later on.  The other device introduced Sylva Varescu, the Csardas Princess and star of the Orpheum Theater in Budapest, along with her supporting glamorous chorus girls, as mere working girls in a factory. That would work, if one was intentionally trying to make a socialist statement about downtrodden workers vs. aristocratic factory owners. In that case there needs to be some kind of conflict between the workers and management. There wasn’t. Instead, there was a chorus of very attractive women dressed in shapeless industrial smocks making the scene seem like a rather staid and Puritanical cross between the urchins from “Annie” and the cigarette girls from “Carmen”.  Most importantly, it prevented the audience from understanding the star power of the glamorous diva Sylva and the source of Edwin’s extreme infatuation with her. Once the smocks came off however, they revealed pleasingly attractive and flattering period costumes by Patti Roeder.

The Thrust space in Stage 773 is by no means an ideal venue for a fully staged opera with orchestra, but Folks Operetta dealt with the limitations with aplomb. Stage 773 is essentially a black box space with no orchestra pit to provide balance between orchestra and singers, and without blocking sight lines for the audience. Folks Operetta solved the problem by positioning the orchestra upstage of the scenery with a video monitor in the house for the singers to see Conductor Mark A. Taylor. This was a daring and risky decision, but Mr. Taylor is an extremely talented and stylistically sensitive conductor who never once allowed the excellent 19 piece orchestra to overwhelm the singers, while maintaining an exquisitely tight ensemble without any direct contact with the stage. We don’t know if credit is due to Mr. Taylor for the impeccable diction of every single singer, but they understood that good diction is a product of good vowel production and not the over-pronunciation of consonants. Not a single word was missed. Kudos to Folks Operetta, as well, for allowing us the luxury of Harp player Lillian Reasnor. The “harp” stop on a synthesizer could never have replaced her.

Katherine Petersen provided a lovely presence and well produced lyric soprano to the role of Sylva Varescu, usually sung by a fuller spinto soprano. Her self-assured honesty and directness, her sympathetic vulnerability won our hearts. However, as the famous diva, she seemed a bit reserved and lacked the effusively glamorous “star power” which the Csardas Princess of the Orpheum would require.

Jonathan Zeng was an elegant and dashing Edwin Weylersheim. Handsome and slim, he was the perfect picture of a young lover. His reliable tenor voice handled the role with ease. Kalman was not always kind to his singers, and the first duet for Sylva and Edwin lies in a particularly difficult tessitura, which Mr. Zeng and Ms. Petersen negotiated successfully. We have followed Mr. Zeng since he was a student at Western Illinois State University. He has talent, but seemed to hold something back, both vocally and personally.  We think that he may have projected more personal and vocal warmth, tenderness, and passion if he had been allowed to play Edwin as real nobility, instead of as just the son of a wealthy industrialist.

Emma Sorenson, as Edwin’s cousin Stasi, was a revelation. If you can imagine Gina Davis with the voice of Kiri Te Kanawa, you would have an approximation of the impact of Ms. Sorenson. Her tall, slim beauty and warm open presence fills the stage. Her portrayal of Stasi, which often comes across as somewhat bitter and bitchy, was full of wittily impish fun and empathy. We plan to keep an eye on Ms. Sorenson.

Every operetta depends upon an indispensable ensemble of comprimario, or character roles to provide plot twists and conflict, as well as providing expository information to move things along. This “Csardas Princess” benefited tremendously from their contributions. William Roberts brought a luxuriously ample, warm voice and expansive charm to the role of Boni, the bon vivant who acts as Sylva’s manager and accomplice in the Act II ruse to crash Edwin’s engagement party to Stasi. His portrayal was reminiscent of P.D. Wodehouse’s Wooster, albeit on a big-house operatic scale. It was a blessing to hear Bill Chamberlain as Boni’s partner in crime, Feri. His seasoned professional voice, touching humanity, and wry humor were the perfect foil for Mr. Roberts’ bloviating and provided a centering influence for the production. And as Edwin’s mother, Anni Weylersheim, Rosalind Hurwitz’ sparkling wit and energy demonstrated that it is not only the young who enjoy romance. They were joined by a youthful but talented chorus of eight very talented young performers who constantly projected enthusiasm for both the production and the music. We haven’t seen a group of singers collectively have so much fun in years.

“Csardas Princess” continues its run at Stage 773 on West Belmont St. through July 22. Future plans for Folks Operetta include a “Reclaimed Voices” series featuring the works of composers who have been long overlooked, primarily because of the political and racial climate which enveloped Europe in the 20th Century. We look forward to this ambitious series.  

The OperaSwains, Bill and Margaret

“Broadway & The Bard”, Len Cariou’s idea of combining his two great loves – Shakespeare and the American Musical, is a heartwarming and tender paean to the art forms which made him an icon of the American stage. Conceived following his Broadway appearances as Shakespeare’s Henry V in 1968 and opposite Lauren Bacall in 1969, it consists of ingenious pairings of Shakespearian monologues, and both well-known and obscure musical selections from The Great White Way, in which Mr. Cariou gives full voice to his passion.

Mr. Cariou is 79 years old, so we really didn’t know what to expect. It has been awhile since his Tony Award winning triumph as Sweeney Todd. He did get off to a somewhat shaky start, most obviously with pitch problems in his upper range. Perhaps he was trying to conserve energy and had not properly warmed up. Perhaps there was lack of support because he was seduced by the false promise of amplification. The venue was a very small space – why bother with amplification? As a result, it took a while for the audience to immerse itself in the performance.

However, this was Len Cariou. A few flat notes are not a problem. The epitome of honesty, Cariou’s brilliance is rooted in total dedication to his art and his immersion in the meaning of the text, his compelling selfless confidence in the mastery of his craft, and massive stage presence. His irresistible charm, humor, and laser-like smile blasts across the footlights and envelopes his audience. Never maudlin, self-indulgent, or boasting, he shows a complete absence of self-consciousness, traits usually absent from other one-man-shows or cabaret acts.

The accompanist for a venture of this kind is often overlooked or given secondary status, but Cariou is blessed to have found Mark Janas, whose virtuosic, pianistic brilliance and bedrock support for the singer never strayed beyond the boundaries of collaborative ensemble. This was one of the finest examples of accompanying that we have ever heard. It wasn’t clear what Barry Kleinbort contributed; it seemed that most of the explanatory banter before each grouping could have just as easily been improvised by Cariou. Scenic design by Josh Acovelli looked as if whoever occupied the space last didn’t quite finish with their strike. We might have thought we were in the wrong theater, but for the obligatory bust of Will just upstage of the Steinway grand piano.

Performed at Chicago's Stage 773, “Broadway & The Bard” is often clever, such as when Benedick’s Act II, scene 1 speech lamenting his vow to never fall in love segued into Gershwin’s “Nice Work If You Can Get It” and “How Long Has This Been Going On?”, or Petrucchio’s misogynistic speeches from “The Taming of the Shrew” morphed into “How to Handle a Woman” from “Camelot” - when we were expecting “Kiss Me Kate”. However, there were occasionally abrupt or jarring segues, such as when the viciously ambitious Act III, scene 2 speech of Richard II goofily became “If I Ruled the World”, by Ornadel and Bricusse. Nevertheless Matt Berman’s atmospheric lighting seemed to help soften these moments by gently taking the audience out of one theatrical reality into another.

Mr. Cariou’s concept of monologue and melody peaked with Marc Antony’s Act III “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech from “Julius Caesar”, in which Cariou gave full reign to the vestiges of former power and range of the great singing actor who dominated the Broadway Theater for nearly four decades, and was followed by a wonderfully insightful “Forget Medley” of songs by Rogers and Hammerstein, Kander and Ebb, Alan Jay Lerner, and a setting of Shakespeare’s “Fear no more” by Stephen Sondheim which left the audience all but breathless.

Inevitably, as though in recognition that his days are numbered, Cariou entered Lear’s Act II, scene 4 monologue in which Lear acknowledges the fragility of life and rails against his daughters’ faithlessness. Segueing into Kurt Weill’s “September Song” provided the most moving and tender moment, as if Mr. Cariou was using this vehicle to say goodbye to his audience and career.
“Brush Up Your Shakespeare”, for sooth!

Bill & Margaret Swain