Overall Citadel Theatre’s ‘Dames at Sea’ has a smashingly great cast of singers and dancers, perfect for a musical comedy satirizing the over-the-top 1930s movies and Broadway revues that were light on plot and heavy on costumes, dance routine, and ostrich-feathered pageantry. 

That’s exactly what ‘Dames at Sea’ pokes fun at, but lovingly. It originated in 1966 as an Off-Broadway show that ran for 575 performances, and became the launching vehicle for Bernadette Peters. Set in the early 1930s, its book and lyrics by George Haimsohn and Robin Miller, fittingly for a satire, embody every theater cliche imaginable: A Midwestern chorus girl steps off the bus in Manhattan, falls into a Broadway lead, and rockets to stardom. Plot points are near memes harvested from musical extravaganzas of that decade: The star is sick! What are we gonna do?! The show must go on! Well kid, think you can do it?! What choice does any trouper have?! 

Melody Rowland as Ruby and Beck Hockason as Dick in "Dames at Sea."

Six decades later, it’s still totally fun, the comedy broad, the exposition minimal, because we already know the story. Choreography is great, though heavy on the tap shoes, and lilting, lovely choral singing, to boot.

The melodious score by Jim Wise pairs beautifully with Haimsohn and Miller’s lyrics— every song is original, but they all sound like something you’ve heard before. Conjuring up Cole Porter’s 1935 “When They Begin the Beguine“ is Wise’s “The Beguine,” a deft reflection of the original, played with exaggerated passion in a singing-dancing duet by Mona (Ciara Jarvis) and Captain (Steve McDonagh). Or “That Mister Man of Mine,” which, though different and original, is reminiscent of “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man of Mine” from “Show Boat.”

Ciara Jarvis as Mona in "Dames at Sea."

There are some very good voices in this show: Beck Hockason in the role of sailor Dick; Melody Rowland as Ruby, that Midwestern chorus girl; and McDonagh as Captain. Very much in the Benadette Peters mold is Ciara Jarvis as Mona. Jarvis’s acting chops shows she gets it, and she plays the inside joke to the audience effectively. Jarvis also has a wonderful, rich stage soprano,liltingly beautiful and “she’as easy on the eyes,” as a gaffer might have remarked backstage.

All this is quite wonderful, and we could call the show a great success save for one horrible aspect: sound and music. The cast was well miked, and their voices were great—when we could hear them. Unfortunately the prerecorded orchestration was played at too loud a level, at least on opening night. Rarely could singers get above and beyond it. Even so, a couple numbers succeeded, “The Beguine,” and in Act II, “Raining in My Heart,” featuring restrained musical accompaniment that for the moment was closer to balance with the live singing. 

The recording of the accompanying music was also lacking—just simply unpleasant arrangements. Combined with being too loud, it was not good. Hopefully, sound adjustments are made for future performances. And as to stage and sets, perhaps Citadel will consider relocating to a more accommodating stage. One with a true backstage, or at least the possibility of actual sets. This is merely a high school auditorium, and a wall-sized LED screen is all they’ve got for background.

Were that sound tuned, this show could be somewhat recommended. It seems a shame, with such a professional cast and the investment in licensing of a strong property. “Dames at Sea” plays through December 15, 2024 at Citadel Theatre in Lake Forest, IL.

“Every Brilliant Thing,” places unusual demands on its lead character, Narrator. Jessie Fisher delivers a carefully calibrated performance from a comedic script that is deceivingly simple, but deeply emotional and upon reading it afterward, I saw that it is beautifully structured, as well. 

Fisher is the center of our attention in this 70 minute monologue that evokes the gamut of emotions—at times poignant and tearful, at others boisterously funny. She relates a sampling of thoughts of people, places and things intended to capture life’s happy and satisfying moments. This was Narrator's lifelong quest, begun in childhood, to stave off her mother’s suicidal tendencies by coaxing her to dwell on the brighter side of things.

In this demanding role, Fisher must be onstage 30 minutes before the “curtain” rises formally, welcoming each audience member with numbered slips of paper, each bearing a charming thought evoking joy: 1. Ice Cream. 2. Water fights. 3. Staying up past your bedtime and being allowed to watch TV. In the course of the performance, we are each called upon to read aloud the item we received. (My companion had #1654: "Christopher Walken's voice." mine was #1655: "Christopher Walken's hair.")

Fisher also eyes the incoming ticket holders as potential stagemates, and several will be called from their seats to play an array of characters from her life: a school counselor, a lecturer, a veterinarian, her father, her spouse, even herself, at one point. As the formal show begins, Fisher narrates the story of her life, and calls on these individuals and others, and all of us eventually, to voice items from the list, or to play the bigger roles. She becomes both actor, and director, and we are transformed from spectators to players, the fourth wall continuously dissolved in this unusual play.

So reliant on the audience is “Every Brilliant Thing,” that each performance varies significantly—yet reading the script afterward, things that I imagined must have been spontaneous or ad libbed, are in fact detailed by the British playwright Duncan Macmillan (with comedian Jonny Donahoe, who played Narrator in the original productions in London and New York). Director Kimberly Senior has guided Fisher to a remarkable performance that is deceivingly natural and immensely convincing. I had a chance to see “Every Brilliant Thing” a couple years ago at WIndy City Playhouse, and this production, in Writers Theatre's more intimate Gillian space is every bit as good as that one.

We see Narrator through stages of her life, in college, getting engaged, married, divorced—all the while growing and maintaining this list of “brilliant things” that make life worth living. In her earlier life, she shared it with her mother, but it made little impact on her. The audience members are cued to read their assigned thoughts by number. As she courses through life, Narrator’s list grows into the tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands, deepening in complexity. The pace of Narrator's recitation of brilliant things hastens, and she recites many of them herself.

We see that ultimately, this list is for the Narrator, a lifeline to which she clings as a vision of a happier life. 

 “Every Brilliant Thing” runs through January 5, 2025 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL, and comes highly recommended. 

“This Is Our Youth,” with mesmerizing performances by Kason Chesky as Warren, Grayson Kennedy as Dennis, and Annalie Ciolino as Jessica, is still vital and fresh nearly thirty years after its Off Broadway premiere. Playwright Kenneth Lonergan set it in 1982 during the Reagen era, but these 48 hours in the lives of three dissolute young adults read fresh and vital today as it did almost 30 years ago.

Much of that is attributable to the outstanding performances of all three actors in Gwydion Theatre’s production at Greenhouse Theatre. Under the direction of Andrew Shipman, this trio really gives voice to Lonergan’s deftly drawn characters - locked in their personal traumas and immersed in the travails of their emergence from their upper middle class homes to independence. It’s just a snapshot - two days - during which the characters have some of their best and worst moments.

The two-act play is simple and straightforward: 19-year-old Warren has been booted from his house by his abusive dad, a driven businessman, and secretly lifts $15,000 of dad’s cash as he heads out. Arriving at his friend Dennis’s apartment, suitcase in hand, Warren is a dweeb and awkward, totally aggravating, and we soon side with the more dynamic and charismatic Dennis, who doesn’t want the risk of harboring Warren and his cash.

But Dennis relents, and hatches a plan for the hapless Warren to replenish the missing funds that he has carelessly spent along the way. Here’s how Buzz editor Ken Payne described it in the 2014 Steppenwolf production: a hair-brained scheme where they would buy some coke, keep some for themselves, cut it and then resell it for a profit exceeding the amount needed to replace the full fifteen thousand dollars.

Though I saw the 2014 Steppenwolf version of “This Is Our Youth,” which starred Michael Cera and Kieran Caulkin, I liked this version much, much better. Cera, in the Warren role, was a one-note actor, and Caulkin had nothing to play against - I really didn’t notice how good the script was. In Gwydion Theatre’s sterling production, we quickly learn that these young men have a neurotically abusive relationship.

Dennis is an ill-tempered drug user and purveyor; and Warren weathers a constant barrage of his demeaning put-downs and mean-spirited physical jousting.
When Dennis departs to carry out the scheme, we have a chance to meet Jessica, and Ciolino’s performance is outstanding. Her character allows the other dimensions of Warren’s personality to unfold, and we gain empathy andrespect for the two as more fully emotionally developed individuals, especially compared to Dennis.

Throughout the play, the conversations deliver the exposition and backstories effortlessly, another tribute to Lonergan’s script, and why this play resurfaces so frequently, and remains fresh and meaningful. The two-act run time is over two hours plus intermission. But it grips our interest throughout, and never really falters. Chesky’s Warren is onstage nearly throughout, and he delivers a remarkable performance, but Kennedy and Ciolino are every bit his equals. The energy required of Kennedy in the role of the manic, drug-altered Dennis, may be a formula for stage burn-out, but he carried it off admirably on opening night.

“This Is Our Youth” comes highly recommended, and runs through September 28 at the Greenhouse Theatre Center on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

“Network” at Invictus Theatre Co. is one fun, funny, exciting show. In this full-throttle Chicago debut at the WIndy City Playhouse on Irving Park Road, we get a powerhouse rendering of Lee Hall’s script.

Adapted to the stage in 2017 for a London production from the Oscar-winning 1976 screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky, the passage of nearly 50 years since the film version has made the stage version even more powerful.

Chayefsky used his television insider experience skillfully to create a rollickingly funny portrait of the follies of big media business. Hall also laces the script with damning indictments of the intersection of capitalism and big media news reportage that has exchanged integrity for ratings-driven content, debasing news, and forsaking the public trust. This angle makes “Network” even more timely today, the era when TV’s commentating personalities (and online streamers for that matter), untethered from factual information, have been in the ascendance.

We’ve also watched as these personalities crashed and burned, costing the media owners billions of dollars as they flame out amid defamation and libel suits.
In the case of the 1976 “Network,” with its amazing performances by Peter Finch as Howard Beale and Faye Dunaway as his ambitious producer Diana Christensen, the movie played as satire (though said to be based on a true story).

Five decades later with Invictus Theatre’s “Network,” we see a vivid portrayal of life imitating art. With a large cast and many moving parts—directed superbly by Charles Askenaizer—we meet news anchor Howard Beale (James Turano is positively magnetic), a network television anchorman who is fired for his declining ratings. When in one of his last few broadcasts he promises to kill himself on air, no one among the producers and directors notices. But the audience does, and his ratings skyrocket.

 In the control booth at UBS (l-r): John Chambers, James Lewis, Joe Sergio, and Anne Trodden. 

Calculating there is gold to be had, producer Diana Christensen (Anne Trodden is pitch perfect) convinces station exec Frankl Hackett (a deft performance by Joe Sergio) to reverse his edict to fire Beale, and instead give him his own show.

The news slot is then transformed from a me-too recitation of the day's top news, to ranting commentator Beale before a live studio audience on “The Howard Beale Show.” Suddenly sponsors are willing to pay millions and producers let Beale do and say whatever he wants. That is, until a global mega corporation moves to acquire the parent of UBS, and Beale attacks the prospective merger. This triggers even more hilarious outcomes as the big corporate brass intervene directly, bringing down the hammer on Beale in a come to Jesus moment complete with organ music and stained glass windows.

It’s all this and more, in the fast-paced setting of a television studio. What Chayefsky only imagined has now become the reality all around us, where the “talent” (as these on-air stars are known) have power over their corporate bosses - news ethics be damned. It is only when the tab for subjorning falsities for ratings gets high—think voting machine maker Dominion’s $787 million settlement with Fox News, or sex harassment settlements—that management reigns in the likes of Tucker Carlson, Bill O’Reilly, etc.

“Network” is a fantastic production, with convincing lights-camera-action of a television station, and even the audience called into the action. The control booth serves as a droll commentary on the action as we see the producer Christensen, exec Schumacher, producer Harry Hunter (John Chambers) and the Director (James Lewis) delight in Beale’s antics on air. A special shout-out to Lewis, whose mostly wordless role centers on his body language and reactions within the control booth—real acting!

Highly recommended, “Network” runs through September 29 at the WIndy City Playhouse, 3014 W. Irving Park Road in Chicago.

Pegasus Theatre’s “Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea” is a family drama with plenty of comedic overtones. Director ILesa Duncan relies on very strong performances by Maya Abram as Mom, the whirling core of the family, along with David Goodloe as a deadpan Dad, to center the show in the Jones household dynamics. These have been thrown askew by Dontrell Jones III, a 18 year old dreamer who has always followed his own direction.

Written by Nathan Alan Davis, the play gives us a dramatic shift early in the opening scenes. In a vivid dream, beautifully staged with the company of players forming a chorus, Dontrell is visited by ancestral figures, and directed to seek out the remains of his great great great grandfather, who died in transit by jumping from a slave ship—the Middle Passage from Africa. Now Dontrell is to dive to the seabed where the Chesapeake River meets the Atlantic, to find his ancestor’s remains.

On awakening, this becomes Dontrell’s mission. Never mind that his parents have other plans for him. Or that he is to enter Johns Hopkins as a freshman in the fall. Or that he cannot swim. With an innocent single mindedness he embarks on this mission, Dontrell begins keeping a tape recorded log of his quest, dictating similarly to the Star Trek captain’s log, tracking his progress.

Immersed in this electrifying dream vision, Dontrell’s family senses he is estranged. His good buddy Robby (Zay Williams) reaches out to him, but while the old bond is there, Dontrell is not there with it.

Soon he heads to the public pool and diving into the deep end, and sinks, only to be. And then rescued by the lifeguard on duty, Erika (Emma Wineman). The two bond, and she becomes his confidant and comes home to meet the family, including younger sister Danielle (Aundria TraNay).

The play then follows the dynamics of the family conflict, filled with humor, angst, anger, and love. While working from the same script as a 2018 version of “Dontrell, Who Kissed the Sea,” it is remarkable to how differently this production interprets the author’s work. The earlier version was more dreamlike, centering on Dontrell’s vision and quest. Pegasus’ production centers on the conflict between a young Black man compelled to reckon with his heritage, and his family’s goals to keep him headed to college. Both are satisfying shows, but call me a dreamer, I lean toward the First Floor Theatre interpretation, which is why I returned five years later to see this play once more.
“Dontrell Who Kissed the Sea” plays through August 18 at Chcago Dramatists theater, 798 N. Aberdeen.

It’s not too early to mark out January 11 and 12 and reserve tickets for a “Too Hot to Handle,” a unique holiday event to be staged at the Auditorium Theatre. For 17 years, Chicagoans have reveled in the glory of this dramatic adaptation of Handel, what reviewers describe as an “exuberant, jazz-gospel makeover” of the baroque master’s classic “Messiah.”

That doesn’t begin to describe it, rooted in Handel’s surpassingly beautiful work, from which it launches into exuberant explorations of Handel’s intent conveyed in jazz, blues, scat, ragtime, and other musical modalities from Black American culture. Originated by Marin Alsop nearly hree decades ago, it is both freeform and grounded, and I have not heard its power captured in recordings or videos—you have to be there.

Ordinarily performed sometime close to Mr. Luther King Day, this moving performance features world-class musicians filling the Auditorium’s historic stage with a chamber orchestra, jazz combo, a huge choir, and two gifted operatic soloists—soprano Alfreda Burke, and tenor Rodrick Dixon (both with well-regarded classic repertoires); along with chanteuse Karen-Marie Richardson, a Chicago-based alto (currently appearing Off Broadway in “Sleep No More” through September 29 .

Late last month, members of the company gathered atAmazing Space for a celebratory launch event to position the next rendition, with Dixon and Burke accompanied by another essential to “Too Hot to Handel,” pianist Alvin Waddles. There the announcement of a new addition was made: the appointment of George Stelluto as musical director and conductor going forward. Stelluto conducted the “Too Hot to Handel” performance with the Peoria Symphony in December, and has made conducting appearances at the Ravinia Festival, and with the Atlanta, San Diego and Milwaukee Symphony Orchestras, among many other engagements in the U.S. and internationally.

“Too Hot to Handel” comes highly recommended, with a word of advice: book your tickets now so you don’t miss a one of a kind event January 11 and 12, 2025.

Steppenwolf’s Laurie Metcalf gives us a tour de force performance in playwright Samuel D. Hunter’s masterful “Little Bear Ridge Road.” But you might find this is a little different than the roles from Ibsen and Albee for which she won Tony’s on Broadway.

As Sarah, the 60ish cranky nurse living alone in backwater Idaho, she may remind you a bit of Roseanne Barr (whose sister Metcalf played on TV): brusque and sometimes mean, but her remarks are more reflective, less scattershot than the commedienne's.

Set in the outskirts of Troy, Idaho during COVID, the play opens with Sarah in rubber gloves cleaning around her three-seat, motorized recliner sofa - the only thing we’re given in the way of a set. But to what amazing use Metcalf and director Joe Mantello will put that recliner.

Soon Sarah’s nephew Ethan arrives, (Micah Stock is excellent), and after the briefest of pleasantries his aunt castigates him for arriving at eleven pm, three hours past her bedtime. “You should have started earlier,” she says. “I’m doing chores to keep myself awake.” Sarah finally offers condolences and we learn the reason he is visiting: to settle the affairs of his late father, a meth addict who died the week before.

Our sympathies go right to Ethan, but that will change. Hunter’s masterful and subtle script unfolds and unfolds these two, peeling back the layers of who they are and how they got that way.

Metcalf’s performance as Sarah is striking. Tony winning director Mantello, who partnered with the Steppenwolf actress to commission Hunter’s script, has Metcalf roaming the stage, exiting left and right but still shouting dialog back to Ethan. Stock is every bit as good, but his character is wounded, emotionally stunted, and ultimately less likable. His mother, we learn, ran away when he was young, probably because his father was an active addict throughout his upbringing.

Another wonderful thing about “Little Bear Ridge Road” is the freshness and immediacy of the dialog. The playwright, through Sarah, gives us the things we really talk about today: the grind of punishing jobs, details of medical conditions and attendant bills, and especially, picking apart streaming video series as we binge through meals ensconced in our recliners. The playwright (Hunter wrote the stage version of “The Whale” which won an Oscar in its film adaptation) indicates where actors’ lines overlap, the way we naturally talk over each other. And he gives the cast three volumes for delivery: explosive, normal speech, and implied lines in enduring silences. Oh does it work!

Metcalf’s Sarah, in particular, puts this guidance to amazing use, especially as we listen in on her side of phone conversations. When she dresses down a work scheduler, her voice is hellfire, like she flipped open the door of a blast furnace. As she abruptly ends the call, Sarah resumes a conversation with Ethan, all collected and nice as you please. At a few points she toggles back and forth between these voices quickly, and suggesting this is how she battles for survival with the outside world.

As the scenes advance, we advance in time, and to other locations, all portrayed with lighting (Heather Gilbert) and this simple set of a recliner sofa on a turntable. We’re at Ethan’s father’s house, where we watch as he flits through his late dad’s effects; a bar in Moscow, Idaho where men hook up with men and Ethan meets James, an astrophysicist grad student; a hillside where the two look up at the stars and James names and describes them.

A year after selling the house, Ethan somehow is still in that recliner with Sarah. In one remarkable scene Sarah and Ethan debate the merits of a streaming show— a particular preoccupation of our COVID sequestration that still endures. The two rise and fall in their individual seats, moving from supine to sitting, and back, leg rests rising and falling, one character ascending another descending, as they sallie and joust in the discussion. If barcaloungers have body language, this is surely it.

And James begins to appear on the sofa as well. Sarah and James forge their own relationship, and the gradual revelations—Ethan’s mother abandoned him to his father, who was addicted to methamphetamine (the drug in the streaming series “Breaking Bad”), Sarah had miscarriages, and daunting medical challenges.

The playwright’s smartphone voices in particular merit our consideration. They are Sarah’s lifelines to real relationships, two of them credited as Kenny and Vickie, whom we never see. But Sarah does, on Facetime. These voice characters recur, a kind of chorus of commentary that advances the action. Facetime Vickie (played by Meighan Gerachis) calls out Sarah’s co-dependency on her brother, and now with her clinging nephew Ethan. Gerachis is also onstage at the end in a spot-on performance as a nurse, Paulette.

A play that takes us along new paths into unexplored terrain, “Little Bear Ridge Road” comes highly recommended. Its run has been extended until August 4, 2024 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago.