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.

This show, performed at the Ruth Page Center for the Arts, was promoted in Buzz Center Stage (www.buzzcenterstage.com) last month as an upcoming event, and here’s the skinny on the actual performance. Spoiler alert! It was terrific – but let me share some details.

We were greeted at the door by the choreographer, Ginny Ching-Yin Lo – she was obviously thrilled about this premiere of her tenth and latest work, ENLIVEN. This friendly personal introduction was characteristic of the entire show – IDENTITY is committed to connecting with their audience. Filmmaker Spence Warren took time to speak with us both before and after the show. He sat near us and I loved watching as he bopped and wriggled through the performance, clearly very invested in the action.

IDENTITY PERFORMING ARTS is a very diverse company:  Josephine Castillo, Mark Gonzalez, Mackenzi Bolyard-Pizaῆa, Amelia Harris, Audrey Hartnett, Wilson Hicken, Hayley Midea, Hanley Simpson, and Tiana Thompson were all onstage variously through the evening. Their minimalist costumes brought uniformity to their diversity, rendering each individual genderless and monochromatic, it is characteristic of IDENTITY to showcase each dancer’s personal brilliance while melding them into a unified whole.

The choreography was totally unique: balletic, gymnastic, flexible, and asynchronous. My companion was reminded of Cirque du Soleil – though I’ve not seen Cirque myself, I find his comparison apt. Individually and corporately, the dancers were agile, buoyant, and ever graceful. Even their most ethereal and flowing passages were imbued with a singular vivacity, a brio and zeal that spoke eloquently of each artist’s love for what they do.

Spence’s fifteen-minute film KINDRED was sandwiched between performances. In it they danced through various rooms of a (perfectly gorgeous) modern home: Pliés and port-de-bras using the dishwasher as a barre, fold overs in the living room, and several maneuvers in the bathroom. Oh dear – I’m not making this sound very good, but it was absolutely magical! Seeing the dancers perform in a home rather than on a stage personalized the work, ‘bringing it home’ in a literal sense. Eit seemed even more magical when Spence admitted to us that the entire series had been filmed in a single 8-hour day!

Ginny Ching-Yin Lo is IDENTITY’s founder, choreographer, and Artistic Director. Her works have been performed in France, Germany, and China as well as the US. It is IDENTITY’s mission to ‘connect, create, and affirm’, using dance to express societal issues and heal the community.  Since its founding in 2016 IDENTITY has striven to carry dance to the underserved, to those who have limited access to its magnetic appeal.  

There is but one additional performance of ENLIVEN, Saturday 18 November at Studio5 Dance Center in Evanston. And keep watch for Spring and Fall performances in 2024!

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

It’s hard to find words to describe DEEPLY ROOTED DANCE THEATRE’s performance. Phenomenal …  wondrous … magnificent … incredible – all these and more apply but even all together they’re insufficient to the task.

DEEPLY ROOTED DANCE THEATRE, a Chicago-based dance company, has been expressing the transformative power of art through dance education and performance since 1996. In their own words, Deeply Rooted Dance ‘reimagines and diversifies the aesthetics of contemporary dance by uniting modern, classical, American, and African American traditions in dance and storytelling’. That last word, storytelling, is uniquely cogent. Friday night in the Auditorium Theatre every dance told its own story within a program that formed an artistic digest of Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s history.

The first chapter was Junto [translation “Together], choreographed in 1990 by Kevin Iega Jeff.  Junto was comprised of three episodes: a duet with Rebekah Kuczma and Mekeba Malik, a quartet of Emani Drake and Ahmad Hill, Nyemah Stuart and Sam Ogunde, and a second duet with Alyssa MacCullum and Louis Pearson.  Costume Designer Victoria Carot expressed Pat Metheny’s jubilant music in vivid primary colors: each pair of dancers wore leotards of radiant blue, red, yellow, or verdant green. Sarah Lackner was Lighting Designer for this and every piece, and was masterful, including in some numbers of various images projected against the back of the stage. Stage Manager Gwenne Godwin, with Assistant Razor Wintercastle, molded all components into an exultant whole.

The revival of 53 Inhale, choreographed by Gary Abbott in 2009, recounted Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s middle years, expressing Abbott’s ‘heartfelt tribute to the artists in my life’. Cherae Grimes, Joshua L. Ishmon, Mekeba Malik, Sam Ogunde, Taylor Ramos, and Nyemah Stuart performed in costumes designed by Victoria Carot.

NOTE: The Aud Theatre had a program kerfuffle, and I had no program to refer to and make notes on until Intermission; apologies in advance for any errors.

Vespers, a perennial favorite, was choreographed in 1986 by Ulysses Dove; he also designed the original costumes, redesigned by Lea Umberger. The dance began in a pas de deux with Emani Drake and a straightback chair; gradually she was joined by Taylor Ramos, Alyssa MacCullom, Heather Cagle, Rebekha Kuczma, and Nyemah Stuart. Mikel Rouse’s “Quorum” provided an electronic percussive score that displayed the dancers’ lithe and dynamic elegance. Gravity-defying leaps and the interrelationships and energies between the six women combined beautifully.

This was Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre’s company premiere of Mama Rose, a solo performance by Emani Drake to the music of Archi Shepp / Jasper Van’t Hof. Victoria Carot designed the beautifully austere black costume. Choreographer Keith Lee dedicated this work to New York dance icon Thelma Hill. Emani Drake’s brilliance is, naturally, most gloriously appreciated in solo performances, but I’m just as enthralled by her ability to integrate with other dancers without eclipsing them – like Cassie in A Chorus Line.

A pause followed Mama Rose, giving the stage crew time to carefully sweep the floor so the finale could safely be performed barefooted. Deeply Rooted often performs barefoot, a striking feature one doesn’t commonly see in professional dance, for the obvious reason that a dancer’s feet must be as cherished as a pianist’s hands and a singer’s throat. I experienced the absence of footwear as a powerful statement for the final chapter in this chronicle of Deeply Rooted Dance Theatre.

The finale was a World Premiere of the entire 30 minutes of Madonna Anno Domini, choreographed by the company’s Artistic Director Nicole Clarke-Springer. Costumes, an ‘inspiration from Men Ca Acnem’ were stylized street clothes, eloquently drab. The soundtrack was unique, as much spoken as musical, began with excerpts from President Barak Obama’s 2008 victory speech in Grant Park and Aretha Franklin singing The Long and Winding Road. Culoe de Son and Alev Lenz were followed by Sinead O’Connor, with a rich narration running throughout, one phrase of which stays with me: “take my ex-cannibal’s kiss and make a revolution”. Madonna Anno Domini was an anthem to 200 painful and triumphant years of struggle for racial equality, and specifically three generations of civil rights work in Clarke-Springer’s family history. Madonna Anno Domini was about persistence and about community, about tyranny and leadership, and the complex aftermath of all that empowerment.

The audience is a vital part of any performance, and never more so than with Deeply Rooted Dance. I’m not given many opportunities to be, as a white woman, in the minority. In a crowd. As always it was both compelling and effectual, but as a reviewer it was challenging. The Auditorium Theatre was packed, yet within the throng there was a powerful atmosphere of kinship; a kinship that did not include me: the stranger at a family reunion, writing a review from the outside looking in. I mention it to put my views in context.

It seemed that every dancer – certainly every one of the principals – had a squadron of family and friends in the audience. They applauded for every brief solo or pas de deux, never disruptive, just enough to herald their specific and loving support. And after the final curtain the dancers beckoned everyone – Artistic Director, Rehearsal Director, Executive Director, Choreographers and Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all – onstage for ovations, flowers, and hugs.

Family. Community.

Eloquent.

November 3^rd’s was a single-night performance, but I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you attend DEEPLY ROTTED DANCE THEATRE at the first opportunity.

"The Night of the Hunter" is not a feel-good play, but it is a very good one, exceedingly well performed and produced. Playing at City Lit Theatre through December 3 it was adapted for the stage by Shawna Tucker from the novel of the same name by Davis Grubb.

It is based on the true story of Harry Powers, a serial killer hanged in 1932 in Clarksburg, WV. 

John Harper (Alex Albrecht), driven to despair in the Great Depression, impulsively robs a bank, killing two people. He stumbles home and gives the $10,000 he stole (an exorbitant sum in 1932) to his nine year old son John and little Pearl, who’s not yet four. Before surrendering himself to the police he extracts from young John a pledge to always protect both his little sister and the money, cunningly hidden inside Pearl’s favorite dolly.

Harper’s cellmate in Moundsville Penitentiary is Powers (Bryan Breau), a con man who murders widows once he’s reaped their savings. Unable to winkle the secret from Harper before he’s hanged, Powers is eventually released, and promptly heads for Harper's tiny Appalachian hometown to try his luck with the widow.

Kendal Romero and Bryan Breau in "Night of the Hunter" at City Lit Theatre.

The struggling young widow Willa (Kendal Romero) is waiting tables at the cafe – the hub for town gossip – and speculation on “Where did he hide the money?” has become a town obsession. Willa swears her husband never told her, but most don’t believe her, especially Powers, and he proceeds to charm her, along with the rest of the town. Bryan Breau is indeed tantalizing as Preacher; one wonders, with café owners Icey (Sheila Willis) and Ben (Alex Albrecht) at Willa’s hesitation to accept his proposal.

Mary Margaret McCormack is full-grown and taller than Pearl’s ‘elder’ brother John (Jacqui Touchet), yet she plays the role of Pearl so credibly that one sees not the actor but the little girl. McCormack eloquently depicts the turmoil and distress of a little bitty girl burdened with far too big a secret, especially as, unlike John, Pearl is enchanted with her "new daddy." But she trusts her big brother, even when she’s sure John is wrong.

Jacqui Touchet’s John was just as persuasive: a youngster poised at the transition from childhood into manhood, forced too early into the role of "man of the house," only to be challenged by a man John neither likes nor trusts. Touchet gave an authentic picture of a boy trying to protect his mother and little sister from a man that everyone insists is a good man, a Man of God; a “Preacher.”

Sheila Willis was brilliant as Icey, a scold and a quidnunc with the classic heart of gold and generally good intuition … except about Preacher. Other townsfolk – Ruby, Miz Cunningham and Birdie – were variously played by Rich Cotovsky and Simmery Branch.

I was impressed by Kendal Romero’s interpretation of Willa as an ineffectual woman whose instinct to refuse Preacher capitulates under peer pressure, only to be verified on their wedding night, when Preacher declares their union will be platonic. Evidently he’s not quite ruthless enough to bed a woman he intends to defraud and then kill – what a guy, huh?

Willa is naturally disheartened by his rejection, but under his high-falutin’ pretexts and vindications (not neglecting to mention an Apple from a certain Tree), her disappointment and chagrin mutate into shame at her own depravity. She seeks to purge herself by active participation in the Preacher’s tent revivals where her testimonies, a savory amalgam of titillation and self-loathing, garner huge collections. But it's still not enough for Preacher; he’s haunted by the image of that $10,000.

Director Brian Pastor divided the action into multiple brief vignettes separated by commentary from the Narrator Shawna Tucker, who also wrote the stage adaptation. Set Designer Jeremiah Barr built a very simple set, ably lit by Lighting Designer Liz Cooper, whose raised platform created multiple levels and facilitated rapid transitions using only a couple of benches and a café table. The apparel chosen by Costume Designer Rachel S Parent effectively illustrated each character: ‘accidental’ glimpses of Pearl’s little-girl underpanties complemented McCormack’s portrayal of the child, and dropping Willa’s hemline below that of other townswomen clinched her irresolute persona.

I’ve seen the work of many violence choreographers and Paul Chakrin’s was top shelf, and Stage Manager Ayla Sweet choreographed the swift scene changes expertly. The Depression-era Appalachian accents were adroitly piloted by Dialects Coach Carrie Hardin.