Displaying items by tag: Marti Lyons

When a play’s opening moment is mystifying and its closing moment is satisfying, the stuff in between must be doing its job. John Kolvenbach’s Love Song presents us with a young man in a spartan room, silently observing a lamp that seems to have a mind of its own. Love? Song? We have our doubts.

The back wall of the room slides open and reveals a high-rise apartment, sleekly decorated and offering a panoramic view of an unspecified city through a vast window. Enter a couple as sleek as their home, bickering with such intensity – not to mention hilarious verbal agility – that we continue to wonder if love and song will have anything to do with what’s happening onstage.

Indeed, it does. Remy Bumppo’s production, directed by the company’s Artistic Director Marti Lyons, revives a play that premiered at Steppenwolf 18 years ago. Though full of unanswered questions, Love Song proves worthy of another viewing. With equal parts sensitivity and tartness, Lyons and her cast tell the story of Beane (Terry Bell), who suffers from an autism-like condition and spends the play’s 85-minute length defying the expectations of his loved ones.

Actually, it’s just two loved ones: his sister Joan (Sarah Coakley Price), a demanding professional who is lost in a tirade about an incompetent intern; and her husband Harry (Ryan Hallahan), a fellow professional who challenges his wife’s firing of said intern for misdeeds such as crying “at noon!” and temporarily misplacing an important file.  

Witty as their banter may be, they are hard to like. When Beane visits his sister and brother-in-law, Harry subjects him to a questionnaire designed to provide psychological insight that mostly makes fun of his literal responses. Joan doesn’t do much to ease the situation.

Beane returns to his empty apartment, where he encounters an intruder by the name of Molly (Isa Arciniegas). She too launches into a tirade, though hers has a very different feel from Beane’s sister. Molly attacks architects and their curated minimalism, meanwhile deriding Beane for his lack of possessions for her to steal. A cup but no plate, a spoon but no fork. “What kind of criminal did you say you were?” he asks with the same literalness that aggravated Harry in the previous scene.

Molly’s brand of burglar remains unknown, but it sure excites Beane’s hormones. Off they go on a passionate adventure that leads Beane to talk so much that Harry now describes him as verbose. Beane’s liberation from his sister and brother-in-law’s (and probably society’s) expectations turns him into a different person altogether. And that jolts Joan and Harry from their calcified marriage into rediscovered sensuality.

Without really addressing the issues at hand, Love Song morphs from rapid fire wordplay into a lyrical romance. As staged by Lyons on a set designed by Joe Schermoly, the transitions from Beane’s lonely planet and Joan and Harry’s fraught high rise seem organic.

The cast, too, seems organic. Each of the actors onstage could have fallen into some sort of cliché – Joan as a career-driven ice princess; Harry as a wisecracking sidekick; Molly as a voracious loony; and most notably, Beane as a victim of the other three. But Coakley Price, Hallahan, Arciniegas and Bell all take charge of their characters and allow us to enjoy their transformations.

Love Song, produced by Remy Bumppo Theatre Company, is playing now through April 21 at Theater Wit. Tickets can be purchased through Theatre Wit’s website.

Before seeing the co-world premiere (with Actors Theatre of Louisville) of Liliana Padilla’s How to Defend Yourself, read their program note. In it, they reflect on their fear that the play might be “harmful and re-traumatizing” (it might). They also state their aspiration “to be in the truthful chaos—to hold a space of pain and grief and complexity.” This it certainly does. With forays into montage and speculation, clearly delineated by shifts in light and sound, the truth is not in the reality, but in the emotional journeys of the characters. Padilla has an ear for realistic dialogue that cuts to the quick, despite a good dose of situational humor. Directed by Marti Lyons with a cast that physically and emotionally throw themselves into the highs and lows of the fraught relationships they navigate, How to Defend Yourself is a taut and powerful, if ultimately frustrating examination of sex, sexuality and consent in a world where #MeToo and Tinder hookups coexist. As one of the characters points out, it’s hard to express one’s desires if one isn’t sure what they are (and whether they are acceptable).

The play begins when a young college student, Susana, is hospitalized after a brutal sexual assault. Her sorority sister and mentor Brandi, a black belt, decides to act and host a self defense class. She recruits her sorority sister Kara to help. However, despite the emotion that the crime elicits, only three students show up—Diana and Mojdeh, who seem as eager gain access to the sorority they hope to pledge, and painfully shy Nikki. Diana is disappointed in the lack of firearms. Mojdeh is distracted by her upcoming date. Nikki struggles to speak audibly. After an empowering session of punching, Brandi introduces the fraternity men who have agreed to assist with the workshops, the overbearing Andy and the well-intentioned Eggo. It soon becomes clear that all the participants are bringing their own baggage and attitudes to the workshop, and a fair amount of guilt. The characters are well-drawn and well-spoken; all articulate their views with clarity, though emotions soon run high as they prove to have some irreconcilable differences. Despite the reason for their meetings, most of the conversation revolves around sex: communication, consent, and sexual desire. There are no villains, but sides are chosen and there is no way to avoid the feeling that complicity in the rape culture that led to Susana’s victimization takes many forms.

Reinforcing Padilla’s script, director Marti Lyons has assembled a cast that is diverse racially, ethnically, and in body type. The contrast between the leggy, confident sorority sisters and the shorter, less secure would-be pledges and the mousy Nikki serves as a constant reminder of the power dynamic they inhabit, as does the difference between the powerfully built Andy and the less physically imposing Eggo. In addition to the physical types, which serve as a reminder of the typical dynamic between victim and attacker, the characters cannot escape their skin or their backgrounds. For example, it is clear that part of what has shaped Eggo’s considerate attitude toward sexual partners—besides the fact that he’s a nice guy—in contrast to Andy’s gladiatorial attitude, is the fact that, as an African-American male, he needs to be more concerned about mis-read cues than Ken-doll Andy. Lyons keeps the rapid-fire dialogue tight and pulls no punches with the heavy themes that underscore the play. Yu Shibagaki’s scenic design transforms the Victory Gardens space into a photo-realistic gym. Christine Pascual’s costumes show the evolution of the characters in athletic wear, as well as giving insights into their transformations outside of the safe space, and, in an extended sequence of evolving parties, traveling through time and developmental stages. Paul Toben’s lighting design and Thomas Dixon’s sound design shape the focus on the play between intimate exchanges, amped up training sequences and resonant emotional asides. Movement director Steph Paul, fight director Matt Hawkins and intimacy director Rachel Flesher work seamlessly to show the relationship between fighting, friendship and sex. Training violence spills over into real violence, which gives way to an easy physical camaraderie, a simulated attack leads to the recognition of a spark of attraction. The balance between violence and sexuality that is explored in the script is well represented by this movement design team and the actors who realize their work.

The cast not only looks perfect, they fearlessly commit to Padilla’s vision, which is not always comfortable. Though on the surface, the characters are the sort of enviable success stories of college, the assault on their sorority sister reveals doubts and fears that are impossible to shake. As Brandi, the woman who tries to teach her peers how to defend themselves, Anna Crivelli is poised and self-possessed until the questions from her trainees start chipping away at her surprisingly brittle veneer. Crivelli portrays Brandi’s downward spiral initially with gritty resolve, then with frightening vulnerability. Isa Arciniegas’ Diana struggles to fit in, but her role as outsider makes her a sounding board for the other characters’ fears; Arciniegas finds the insecurity behind her character’s survivor mentality. Ariana Mahallati’s Mojdeh is awkward and desperate, trying to achieve the comfort in her own skin that the other characters seem to have by adopting the script that she thinks she is supposed to learn, whether or not it is her own. Andrea San Miguel’s Nikki goes from barely visible and audible, hiding behind a baggy sweatshirt, to embracing her physical and verbal power, with heartbreaking results. San Miguel navigates this journey in an often hilarious portrayal as her character surprises herself moment to moment. In a powerful and complex performance, Netta Walker as Kara defends her desires while recognizing that they might give license to men who extend them to other women. It is arguments like the one between Kara and the solicitous Eggo that most powerful convey the difficulty of effective communication. Invited into the space by Brandi, the men in the story struggle with their role there, as they find themselves cast alternately as attackers, objects of desire and representatives of masculinity. Jayson Lee’s Eggo brilliantly encapsulates the dilemma faced by men who want to care for women the way they want, while Ryan McBride’s Andy articulates the need for positive consent but disparages Eggo’s version of this as less masculine, calling him an Incel at one point. McBride somehow balances his character’s entitled self-confidence with a desire to do the right thing. All the characters do their best to communicate and ensure a sense of safety, but even with the best of intentions safety proves elusive.

Liliana Padilla’s How to Defend Yourself does not give any insight into how to do this. In fact, it clearly shows the difficulty in doing so when attackers are often people one knows, when even shifting attitudes and the ability to clearly and openly talk about desires and sex do not necessarily get to the point, and when one is smaller or less well-armed than potential aggressors. Padilla’s play articulates that, with all the progress that appears to have been made, there are still entrenched attitudes about gender, sexuality and communication that make this world no less dangerous than the one that fostered Harvey Weinstein. Under the incisive direction of Marti Lyons, supported by a crack team of designers and an ensemble that mines the script’s humor while committing fully to the underlying themes. Often raucously entertaining, How to Defend Yourself finally arrives at the conclusion that learning self-defense may not be as effective as one would like, and, more importantly, it should not be what we learn.

How to Defend Yourself runs through February 23 at Victory Gardens Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue. Performances take place Tuesdays – Fridays at 7:30 pm, Saturdays at 3 pm and 7:30 pm, and Sundays at 3 pm. Regular performances are $31 - $65. Tickets can be purchased at www.victorygardens.org or at the box office. 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue. 773-871-3000.

The Niceties is a play that engages the intellect. But in so doing, sets up a tug-of-war with our gut, addressing a visceral issue for today: race.

Like the puzzler plays Proof or Seminar (both also set at a university campus) The Niceties leads us to think through ideas, in this case the customs and intellectual practices of the erudite precincts of academia. Instead of a puzzle, though, we are faced with a compelling case, made by college student Zoe, that some of the pedagogical and research practices of university professors are mired in the past. And because of this, academia misses out on on the cultural train departing the station. The plain of this discussion takes place on how racially grounded cultural orientations shape how we see and describe the world - and record its history. 

Zoe (Ayanna Bria Bakari) is a college student working on a senior paper in Political Science, and thinking through plans for graduate school. During office hours with her professor Janine (Mary Beth Fisher), they review Zoe’s history paper on The American Revolution. After offering a broadly positive comment on the paper’s worthiness, Janine provides cursory advice on grammar and a missing comma (“You can’t proof on the screen,” Janine admonishes Zoe).

That little aside provides the first whiff of a divide between the two – digital, political, and cultural – that playwright Eleanor Burgess lays out for us in this engaging 2017 work. Zoe is African-American, a political activist, and like her peers in the millennial generation, schooled in online research.

Boomers like Janine (and me) keep stacks of volumes around and can remember where those passages are, if they can just find that book. Zoe, meanwhile, digs up the same citations on her smart phone pronto. 

After Janine mentions her son Zachary is a student, Zoe lets her know that he is in her poetry class. This sparks a self-ironic discourse in which Janine makes an unflattering revelation about herself. Having Zachary on campus, Janine says, has “forced me to see my students as something other than walking theses statements…which is very disorienting.”This bit of self-deprecation does not take away from the truth behind that statement. 

Janine recognizes that Zoe is quite a brilliant student, but is dismissive of her paper's primary contention – “A successful American Revolution was only possible because of slavery” – because it isn't backed by formal citations that support some of her assertions. Zoe instead cites websites and Wikipedia entries. 

But we suspect Janine's criticisms are based on something more. We learn that the action takes place prior to the 2017 election, as Janine confidently predicts Clinton will be the first woman President. In this detail Burgess reveals an arrogance about Janine, one borne of certainty about her world view. How much her confidence would be shaken by Clinton's loss we can only imagine. But the playwright has a preciipitous fall in store for Janine - which we will not spoil.

Suffice it to say the debate between the two builds in intensity, with Zoe challenging her professor’s demands for published, footnoted revidence of reference material.

“If you need evidence, you are excluding the people who couldn’t leave history behind,” Zoe asserts. (Current thought in academia now accepts “imagined history” from those without records - indigenous peoples and slaves.)

Janine is less used to receiving such impassioned pushback. “I like that you stick by your opinions,” Janine tells Zoe. But she doesn’t really. The scene becomes heated, and the argument builds to a crescendo.

“Your thesis is fundamentally unsound,” charges Janine, telling Zoe to rewrite the work, or take a lower grade. Once the gloves are off, Janine invites Zoe to illuminate her supposed shortcomings as a professor. When Zoe reads verbatim from Janine's lectures, she notes her unmitigating praise of Washington and Jefferson may not work so well for the five students in class who are descendants of slaves. 

The language of the dialog is razor sharp, and very much reflects the characters.  The matter ends in a crisis as Act 1 closes, and you will be anxious to find out what happens in Act II, though I confess to being a disappointed in the lack of a dramatic resolution at the final curtain.

Director Marti Lyons has coaxed out great performances in a production that is smart and fast paced. The Niceties runs through December 8 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band begins and ends with music, not what Americans think of when they think of Cambodia, as the glib narrator points out, shifting from slides of musicians whose songs are nearly lost to history to more familiar images of the genocide that resulted in their loss. Yee’s play, now in its Chicago premier at Victory Gardens, is a celebration of the lives that were lost under the brutal Khmer Rouge regime, first to violence (nearly two million people were killed within four years), then to guilt, time and a desire to forget. Underscored and interspersed by classic Khmer pop songs, 60’s and 70’s Cambodian surfer punk, and original songs by Dengue Fever that pay tribute to their Cambodian roots, Cambodian Rock Band is about a band, a genocide and a Cambodian father and his American daughter trying to connect. There is a lot going on, not all of it works, and it can get messy at times, but ultimately, Cambodian Rock Band is a fast-paced, entertaining, timely and moving call to art and action with a rocking score.

Welcome to Cambodia! It’s 1974 and Cambodian band Cyclos is rocking out. Until they are ushered off the stage by an as-yet unnamed emcee who segues from the Cambodian musical scene into the atrocities that most Americans think of when we think of Cambodia in the 1970’s. Enter Chum, who settled in America in in the late 1970’s and who is back in Phnom Penh to pay a surprise visit to his 26-year-old daughter, Neary, who is helping prepare the case against a Khmer Rouge war criminal, Comrade Duch, the warden of the S21, a notorious prison that only seven inmates survived. Chum not only seems unimpressed by his daughter’s efforts (she could have gone to Cornell Law School), but also questions their exigency. In fact, Chum seems more taken aback by his daughter’s pursuit of the case than by the fact that her towel-clad boyfriend appears in the hotel room that she calls home (though the fact that his heritage is Thai is problematic). Chum, with his embarrassing dad jokes and inadvertent double-entendres tries to steer Neary to enjoying the pleasures of Phnom Penh, its fish spa and karaoke. Neary is focused on the upcoming press conference about the case against Duch. As Neary plumbs the depths of the case, searching out survivors of S21, Duch introduces himself, and Neary slowly gets to know her father and his past. 

Marti Lyons has assembled a hard-rocking ensemble, which handles both the classic pop and surfer punk with assurance. She smoothly directs the transitions between times and places, utilizing a spare set comprised of neon, road cases, a few wheeled set pieces and a few pieces of furniture by Yu Shibagaki, visually reinforcing both the ephemerality of the 1970’s music scene and the glowing modern city that arose from the remains of the Khmer Rouge reign. Lighting designer Keith Parham and sound designer Mikhail Fiksel deftly shift the scene between the bootleg recording session, cramped hotel room, upscale hotel lounge, and claustrophobic prison cell. Izumi Inaba offers period-perfect costumes for the band and the Khmer Rouge guards, crushed velvet for our emcee and conservative suits for the employees of the Center for Transitional Justice. Times and places fade into each other, both the physical space and the musical and aural landscape, as it becomes clear that the present is inextricably bound to the past. Lyons directs with an unsentimental, clear-eyed view, not editorializing, throwing into relief the overwhelming, heart-wrenching choices faced by the characters.

The cast is uniformly excellent, delivering both moving, grounded performances and propulsive music. Leading the ensemble is Greg Watanabe as Chum, in a time-traveling portrayal that shows him going from eager, embarrassing and judgmental dad to the youthful version of character, whose coming of age was interrupted by the Khmer Rouge, and finally the father who is forced to reconcile the two. Watanabe brings the right mix of energy, humor and gravitas to the role. The catalyst for the story is Neary, whose fight for justice in Cambodia also serves to teach her about her heritage, played with humor and exasperation by Aja Wiltshire, who also plays the lead singer of Cyclos, Sothea, with brash vibrance. As her co-worker and fellow-Westerner, Ted, Matthew C. Lee provides charm and clueless bonhomie. However, it is as the self-confident, preening lead guitarist Leng, whose survival instincts lead him into the darkness of the new regime, that Lee delivers a note-perfect portrait of hopeful youth. Peter Sipla and Eileen Doan round out the band, as drummer Rom and keyboardist Pou—both are remarkable musicians and actors who capture the different responses to the encroaching threat of the Khmer Rouge, as well as filling other roles in the narrative. As the Comrade Duch, Rammel Chan is disconcertingly ingratiating, deploying brassy, reptilian charm alternating with quiet reflection that calls into question what we know we should feel. Yee’s play requires whiplash-inducing tonal shifts, and the cast navigates the transitions between past and present effectively, bringing to life the people and music of Cambodia, and effectively showing what was lost with each well-documented death in the genocide.

Cambodian Rock Band is an occasionally uneasy hybrid between rock concert, sit-com and documentary record of the Cambodian genocide under Pol Pot, but somehow the format ends up being the right mix. Though laced with humor, maybe because it is laced with humor, the play is a vivid tribute to the art and individuals who were lost in the years when the Khmer Rouge were in power. The music by band Dengue Fever revives the sounds of Cambodia in the 1970’s—both the traditional pop songs and the more Western rock sounds, that nevertheless were delivered with a Khmer accent. In telling one story and offering a glimpse into the atrocities committed by one man, Lauren Yee powerfully reminds us that those rows of black and white photos and the piles of skulls that are often Americans’ first impressions of Cambodia are just the end of many lives and stories. The energetic, talented cast unsentimentally and unsparingly bring to life the rock band of the title. An entertaining tribute to human resilience, it also does not shrink from showing the choices that allow evil to flourish. 

Cambodian Rock Band runs through May 5 at Victory Gardens Theatre, 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue. Performances are Tuesday – Friday at 7:30 pm, Saturday at 3 pm and 7:30 pm, and Sunday at 3 pm. Tickets are $32-$65. For tickets and information, visit www.victorygardens.org, or call or email the Victory Gardens Box Office at 773-871-3000 or This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..

Ask yourself, do you have hope that things can get better? The word itself certainly echoes back to a different political climate in America. Now it seems the very word has been replaced with fear. Jen Silverman’s new play ‘Witch’ is holding its world premiere at Writers Theatre in Glencoe. It’s an update on a seventeenth century tragicomedy but don’t let that fool you, this play has a lot to say about our modern world.

Directed by Marti Lyons, ‘Witch’ tells the tale of the devil coming to a small village. Like all plays concerning Satan, the devil is after souls in exchange for worldly goods or successes of some kind. Ryan Hallahan plays Scratch, one of the devil’s henchman. His wile body language and delivery make him a slick salesman for the master of dark desires. For the villagers already lacking good morals, his pitch is an easy sell. He quickly pits the son of the richest man in town, Cuddy Banks (Steve Haggard) against an ambitious interloper Frank Thorney (Jon Hudson Odom) in a battle for inheritance and land.

This arc serves as the main driver of plot in this 90-minute play but the real meat lies in the battle between Scratch and the town outcast, or witch, Elizabeth Sawyer (Audrey Francis). Elizabeth begins the play with a monologue that asks about hope and explains the mundane cruelties we commit against one another. Francis is captivating. The character is sarcastic and dry. Silverman’s dialogue flows perfectly through Francis’ performance and her emotional reckoning brings about one of the play’s most powerful moments.

Finally, a play about witches that isn’t ‘The Crucible’. Silverman’s script is a lot of fun. It gets to mingle in the 1600s but enjoy the freedom and accessibility of modern dialogue. The contrast is purposeful, asking the audience, has anything really changed? Whether the play is optimistic or pessimistic is really up to the viewers’ interpretation. Either way, there are a lot of laughs here that in the end build to a greater philosophical question. Is change possible or do we have to just start over again from scratch?

If it’s something spooky you’re after, ‘Witch’ will scratch your itch. Though not really a horror story, the intricate production design by Yu Shibagaki gets into the Halloween spirit. Even with the devil, and a supposed witch, this play isn’t really about the supernatural. Rather, it relies on human meanness as the haunting theme, and honestly what’s scarier than that?

Through December 16 at Writers Theatre 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe. 847-242-6000

In Native Gardens, an ambitious young couple moves into a fixer-upper in an affluent DC neighborhood. Husband Pablo (Gabriel Ruiz) is a lawyer, his pregnant wife Tania (Paloma Nozicka) is working on her doctorate dissertation. Their nice and lively, albeit politically incorrect, neighbors are a defense contractor Virginia (Janet Ulrich Brooks) and her retired gardening-loving husband Frank (Patrick Clear). Shortly after moving in, Pablo has a bright idea to invite his entire law firm (all sixty people) to a barbeque in their embarrassingly unfinished yard, so the young couple gets to work. The old wire fence separating the neighbors’ properties (very nice design set by William Boles) has to go, but it soon becomes evident that Frank has been gardening on extra 23 inches of land that actually belongs to the new couple, according to the property plans.

Upon further calculations Pablo realizes that those 23 inches along the old fence translate into extra 80 sq feet of land which goes for “about $15,000 at a current market price”. Well, it’s a war then! Frank refuses to let go of his lovingly raised flowers right up against the ill-placed fence, while the young couple is on a mission to re-claim what’s rightfully theirs.

Who knew that an incorrectly placed fence would cause so much commotion? We all did, we saw it coming before the play even started. But despite its predictability, this comedy is still entertaining and somewhat thought provoking. Written by Karen Zacarias and directed by Marti Lyons, Native Gardens is more about generation clash, stereotypes, ageism and racism rather than the property lines. The older couple is from the pre-self-censorship era, and in their ignorance, they don’t always choose words carefully; they say what’s on their minds rather than hide behind politically correct words and ideas. But those words are often offensive to the delicate ears of Tania, whose proper opinions, frankly, make for sterile conversation, enough to put one to sleep. All in all, the two couples can’t effectively communicate, so they threaten each other instead. Will their peace be restored?

Native Gardens runs through July 2nd at Victory Gardens Theater. To find out more about this show visit www.VictoryGardens.org.

Following the lives of Charlotte and Jonny, The Mystery of Love and Sex cleverly explores a variety of subjects including sexual identity, race, political correctness and family undercurrents. Charlotte and Jonny have grown up together and have become the very best of friends. Charlotte is a white girl who had lived with her parents, her father Jewish and her mother converted, while Jonny, an African American had lived with his mother just next door. 

The story starts off with Charlotte and Jonny living together while attending college. They wonder if their longtime friendship can develop into something more. The two are stressed when Charlotte’s parents, Howard and Lucinda, come by for dinner unsure of what they might think of their living relationship and their possible future together. Howard, a  successful crime novelist accused of writing with racist and sexist overtones by Jonny ("Why are all black men able to dance? Why are most found victims women with no clothes on?"), is direct, concerned and, at times, a bit skeptical. “What is this? Like Bohemian?” He says referring to the couple’s table setting. It doesn’t help matters that Charlotte and Jonny are serving just salad and bread. But we quickly see how much Howard cares for both his daughter Charlotte and Jonny, who he considers his son, despite his oft coarse exterior. 

As the story progresses, Charlotte and Jonny show trepidation in pursuing a future together even questioning their own sexuality. Howard and Lucinda, who consider themselves liberal parents, just want their daughter to be happy. We are then taken on several plot twists and turns in both Howard and Lucinda’s marriage and the lives of Jonny and Charlotte that keep the story highly engaging.

Keenly directed by Marti Lyons and smartly written by Bathsheba Doran, The Mystery of Love and Sex provides four main characters that are each appealing in their own ways. The interactions between the four is fulfilling, as it is humorous, touching and true to life. Doran’s story is that of love, whether it be unconditional or the lengths taken to find it. It is a journey into life’s most sought after desire and a tribute to accepting those for who they are.  

"I have had the pleasure of following the impressive rising careers of playwright Bash Doran and Director Marti Lyons for the past few years and I am delighted to find a project that suited both their considerable talents so perfectly," says Artistic Director Michael Halberstam.

Hayley Burgess leads the way as Charlotte with a bold performance in her Writers Theatre debut. Charlotte has many layers that are revealed throughout the play and Burgess gently takes the audience by the hand into her character’s depth one step at a time. Best friend and confidant Jonny is well-played by Travis Turner who is also able to play up to the complexities in his role with much aplomb. Lia Mortensen is just fantastic as Lucinda, delivering her witty lines to perfection and getting several laughs in the way her character struggles to quit smoking. Cast in the role of Howard is Keith Kupferer. However, Kupferer had taken ill and was unavailable for the performance I had attended thrusting Mark David Kaplan into the role, who is simply remarkable. Kaplan steers his role with grit and finesse offering the clear predictability of Howard’s stereotype, but is also able to throw in a handful of surprising moments filled with a genuineness than can catch us off guard. Kaplan and Mortensen are terrific as Charlotte’s parents, bringing forth plenty of funny exchanges and throwing several well-timed darts at each other.

There is a lot to like in Doran’s The Mystery of Love and Sex from its tantalizing script to its well-executed performances. The play delivers a solid message in a uniquely crafty way that is entertaining from beginning to end. 

Recommended. 

The Mystery of Love and Sex is currently running at Writers Theatre (325 Tudor Court, Glenview) through July 2nd. For tickets and/or more show information click here. 

*This play contains frontal nudity.

In the current political climate, where the political left and right are more divided than ever in their world view, Northlight Theatre’s The City of Conversation provides a glimpse at an elite class of Washington, DC, power players and how they charted the course of this country from behind the scenes for many decades.

The play, which opens Northlight’s 42nd season, centers on the relationships of a liberal socialite and her powerful but understated influence. The show’s title is a nod to British author Henry James’ famous view of Washington, DC, and the impact of its parlor games, and women in particular, on politics.

Written by Anthony Giardina and directed by Marti Lyons, The City of Conversation takes place in an exclusive Georgetown enclave and spans more than 30 years (from President Carter to the inauguration of President Obama) of socialite Hester Ferris’ (played by Lia D. Mortensen) political maneuverings over cocktails and posh dinners.

The play kicks off in 1979 during the twilight, and what Hester calls the malaise, of Carter’s term. She is hosting a very important party for her longtime, married partner Senator Chandler Harris (played by Tim Decker). Through the power of gentle persuasion, filtered through a catered meal and cocktails, Hester hopes to wrangle the vote of Republican Senator George Mallonee (played by Tim Morrison) for an important piece of legislation that will buoy Senator Teddy Kennedy’s chances in a primary bid against Carter.

Things take an unexpected turn when Hester’s son, Colin Ferris (played by Greg Matthew Anderson), shows up a day early from London with his fiancé Anna Fitzgerald (played by Mattie Hawkinson) who is not only an outsider from a small Minnesota town but also extremely ambitious, which Hester is quick to notice, and is a supporter of Governor Ronald Reagan.

The events of that evening set a course resulting in family division as both Hester and Anna wrestle with the rising tide of Reaganism and the resulting power shifts from liberal elites to the “Barbarians at the Gate,” as Anna calls the new crop of conservative outsiders, like herself, taking power.

Things come to a head for the family during the second term of Ronald Reagan’s presidency as Hester, Anna and Colin, now a staunch republican, spar over the controversial Supreme Court nomination of Judge Robert Bork.

Though Hester’s influence has declined over the years she is still working behind the scenes to stop the momentum of Bork’s nomination. Colin, who works for Republican Senator Gordon Humphrey, begs his mother not to embarrass him by intruding in the process. However, Anna, who is now in a powerful position within the Justice Department overseeing Bork's nomination, discovers Hester’s attempts to derail him and sparks fly as the two women, who are similar in their ambition and that they were once both outsiders who fought their way into the centers of power, engage in a heated argument culminating in an ultimatum and an irreconcilable break.

This scene is the strongest of the entire play and certainly generates the most excitement as Hester and Anna throw sharp barbs at each other. Perhaps the one drawback is that there is so much dialogue that both actors feel a little rushed in their delivery so the lines don’t always land as powerfully as intended.

A theme running throughout The City of Conversation is that Northeastern elites forgot the plight of the common man whose eventual political rise, however, lead to the decline of their Georgetown class along with the toney parties, described by Hester as an arm of the government. And gone with that brand of cocktail diplomacy are the civility and the mutual respect across the partisan divide that made political battles more of a chess match than the blood sport they are today.

The City of Conversation is being performed at the Northlight Theatre through October 23. Tickets are available at northlight.org.

What do you do when you receive a call from God? How do you even know if in fact it was a call from God? Could such a happening be a figment of the imagination stemming from one’s ego or a desire wanted so badly that a sign is unconsciously created? In Body and Blood now, currently running at Gift Theatre in Jefferson Park, Dan shocks his live-in girlfriend, Leah, when what she hopes is the beginning of a marriage proposal is instead an announcement that he is leaving her to become a priest. Dan, who has a history of not following through on most anything he does and is fortunate to even have a job at his brother-in-law’s luggage store, claims God appeared to him in an oak tree finally filling him with the purpose he so desperately needs to find fulfillment in life.

Of course Leah, hurt and stunned, suspects this is just another one of Dan’s misinterpreted impulses and possibly just a way of ending their relationship. It gets even better when Dan’s sister, Monica, and her husband, Mick, join the two on their backyard deck for an evening of dinner and drinks. Two devout Catholics, both Monica and Mick are also skeptical of Dan’s new “epiphany”, his sister absolutely livid thinking Dan is copping out on responsibility once again. The play gets even more interesting when the father of Dan’s parish stops by and breaks down the possibilities of Dan’s vision, leaving the available option that such a happening may have certainly happened and that only time will tell. Ultimately, we wonder – is Dan following his heart or creating a new excuse to shirk his current obligations.

Body and Blood is a thought-provoking story that also explores blind devotion to a faith and the hypocrisies, or contradictions, of Catholicism. How much are gays really accepted in the church even though so many priests have been outed in recent times?

The cast puts forth a well-rounded effort. Lynda Newton, one of The Gift Theatre’s founding members, is strong as Monica, dishing out the appropriate humor in her character when necessary and also very believable as one who is experiencing such conflict. In his first performance at The Gift, Nicholas Harazin also delivers a heartfelt performance as Dan and Cyd Blackwell as Leah compliments him well as his girlfriend, Leah.

There are plenty of moments in this play that will make you laugh and many that will make you really feel for the struggle each character is going through. The story moves with ease, the dialogue smooth as silk, and there is just enough intrigue to keep one wondering what will happen next. However, playwright William Nedved’s ending is somewhat flat and anti-climactic, leaving a bit to be desired after such a build up. Still, with solid acting performances, flowing interchanges with bite, emotion and humor and topic matter that might be found thought-provoking by some, there are enough reasons to make this a show worth checking out.

Soundly directed by Marti Lyons and aptly presented in an intimate storefront playhouse Body and Blood is being performed at The Gift Theatre through August 9^th. For tickets and/or more show information visit www.thegifttheatre.org or call 773.283.7071.