It seems that everyone doing Macbeth these days has a lofty concept. Whether it’s a well-known company presenting Macbeth as a 1940’s radio show or college students presenting Macbeth as a B movie thriller, rarely does anyone present a period presentation that takes place in Scotland. While all the actors in Babes with Blades Macbeth are female, that is where the concept stops and in part, because of that, it is refreshingly honest. Babes with Blades does a fantastic job making the text, the motivations, and the overall presentation enjoyable and accessible. Scenes that have always seemed false came to life in the lack-luster performance space at La Costa Theatre. With Kathrynne Wolf in the title role and at the helm of a talented group of women, the gender switch to female was a complete non-issue. In fact, Wolf and Nika Ericson as Lady Macbeth had such wonderful chemistry and skill I found them to be one of the most compelling Macbeth couples I’ve seen.
No high-concept, but Babes with Blades Macbeth exudes with originality and nuance. When the witches’ promises take power over the Macbeths’ good senses, director Kevin Heckman, has them wear red paint on their foreheads. Far from a gimmick, the paint expresses urgency and motivation that is often lost or affected. Furthermore, without the ever-present need for the actors to seem “manly” as per the text, the characters are more grounded and more invested in depth of their relationships. Macbeth and Banquo (played skillfully by Stephanie Repin) display a friendship that makes Banquo’s haunting at the banquet far more poignant.
In addition to strong storytelling and acting, the designers made the most of a bad space. The costumes were so well-made one could mistake them for rentals. The simple fence units moved easily and effectively transformed the space from interiors to exteriors and everything in between. While the lights were a little bright and the sound a little expected, all the design work belonged in the same world and informed the story. Most impressive was the witches’ cauldron that made for some special effects on (presumably) a shoe-string budget.
Unfortunately, the only drawback to this production is the fight choreography. With a name like Babes with Blades, I hoped these women would escape the telegraphing, overly safe feel of stage combat but alas, they do not. While some of the actors are far better at selling the combat, it still reads like they are counting and marking rather than fighting for the glory of Scotland. Fights aside, if you are new to the script or its an old favorite, go see this production.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Diversey Harbor almost Sails
Theatre Seven currently presents Diversey Harbor through May 10th at the Greenhouse Theater Center. Through a short series of monologues, Diversey Harbor tells a day in the life of four young Chicagoans and asks the audience to ponder interconnectedness in the city. While Theatre Seven does a nice job, the script, like most new plays debuting in Chicago, seems unfinished and in need of one more workshop. The young actors maintain their characters and captivate the audience with their ten-minute-plus monologues (not an easy feat), most notable, Robin Kacyn. Kacyn impresses because she tackles the parts of the monologues that go from every-day young-person-speak to heightened poetry. The rest of the actors aren’t amateurs; it is the unpolished script that causes Brian Stojak, Charlie Olsen, and Tracey Kaplan trouble. How does an actor gracefully move from, “I was like puking in the bushes in my hoody” to “as the regal Chicago river hollows the great majestic steel mountains like a canyon” in one breath?* Marisa Wegryzn, the playwright, makes strong dramaturgical choices, like the strategic placement of a central prop and unexpected twists, but can’t seem to make the whole piece come together in the end. Like her mix of modern speak and heightened language, it is the middle ground that needs more work. It is like watching the potential of the play without the satisfaction of the whole story.
As for this show, their production values were strong. The foam core city looked good, as did the look of the young people (though Dennis’s jacket made him look a little too old). Unfortunately the light and sound designs were both distracting but for the opposite reasons. While I can appreciate lighting designer Justin Wardell’s desire to escape the monotony of a monologue show, having the actors change color or get quite dark in the middle of their pieces pulled me out of the story each time. On the opposite end, sound designer Miles Polaski’s same four bars between each monologue not only felt monotonous but confused many audience members by making them think the show was over after the third and fourth monologue.
If this is a promise of what is to come from Theatre Seven, look forward to their next offering. Despite some problems with the script and a few unfortunate choices in design, the production was enjoyable and polished.
* These aren’t real lines from the script but rather rough ideas.
As for this show, their production values were strong. The foam core city looked good, as did the look of the young people (though Dennis’s jacket made him look a little too old). Unfortunately the light and sound designs were both distracting but for the opposite reasons. While I can appreciate lighting designer Justin Wardell’s desire to escape the monotony of a monologue show, having the actors change color or get quite dark in the middle of their pieces pulled me out of the story each time. On the opposite end, sound designer Miles Polaski’s same four bars between each monologue not only felt monotonous but confused many audience members by making them think the show was over after the third and fourth monologue.
If this is a promise of what is to come from Theatre Seven, look forward to their next offering. Despite some problems with the script and a few unfortunate choices in design, the production was enjoyable and polished.
* These aren’t real lines from the script but rather rough ideas.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Goodman's Magnolia
Regina Taylor’s new play, Magnolia, running at the Goodman until April 19th, is a retelling of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. Taylor replaces the failing, middle-aged children of Russian aristocracy in turn-of-the-century Russia with failing, middle-aged children of plantation owners in a rapidly integrating Atlanta in 1963. Chekhov’s representation of middle class is Lopakhin, the son of a serf that buys the orchard out from under the family; Taylor’s is Thomas, the son of a drunken, minstrel-performing former slave. Similarly, Liubov Ranyevskaya, the wealthy, rebellious heiress who has been living in Paris is now Lily Forrest, the wealthy southern rebel-belle who has been traveling the East, tenting with the Bedouin and eating sushi in Japan. Even Firs, the aging butler, appears as Samuel, a dedicated domestic who continues to dress his master, Beau, who, like his Chekhov counterpart, is so distracted by ball games in his head that he still needs a dresser. These analogies of character boarder on brilliance.
Unfortunately Taylor stifles all this originality in the first act by keeping the cast segregated. The African American community eats soul food at a diner while the white aristocracy sips Champaign at a super club. While this provides a platform to share painfully truthful exposition about the opposite group in a way Chekhov never could have, it also prohibits the most exciting scenes of the original where the working class is directly confronted by incompetence of the aristocracy. Like Greek drama, the audience hears about dramatic scenes that happen offstage, like the funeral, rather than seeing them.
In the second act, our hard-earned patience pays off when Thomas and Lily finally riff onstage together. Both Annette O’Toole and John Earl Jelks show off the type of acting chops that put the Goodman at the top of its class. Unfortunately, the under-developed or misinterpreted characters around them distract from their incendiary performances. While Maya, the diner waitress, and Meshach, the super club bartender, seem aptly played, the roles seem superfluous and underwritten. Conversely, Paul, the Bob Dylan-like freedom rider, serves a purpose but the actor misses the mark. Paul is the son of a racist preacher, who should be conflicted about his lustful thoughts about both Lily and her daughter Anna. Instead Cliff Chamberlain completely ignores that impure thoughts even exist robbing O’Toole of her great Blanch DuBois moment. While O’Toole is brilliant, even she falls into an easy trap during her fit near the end of the play. Like Lopakhin buying the Ranyevskaya estate in The Cherry Orchard, Thomas’s ownership of the plantation changes nothing in the eyes of the wealthy. Like Lily says when she finds out he has purchased the land, “Who the %^$ does he think he is?” The meaning of that line is that, in her eyes, he is a second-class citizen, a slave, or the son of a slave, regardless of what he owns. O’Toole would have befitted from playing the opposite there- quietly accusing him- because Lily screaming and gnashing teeth, which O’Toole does, means Thomas successfully grabbed power. He has not. Like Lophakin, Thomas is left with a shuffling servant, an empty house, and a string of broken relationships.
Unfortunately Taylor stifles all this originality in the first act by keeping the cast segregated. The African American community eats soul food at a diner while the white aristocracy sips Champaign at a super club. While this provides a platform to share painfully truthful exposition about the opposite group in a way Chekhov never could have, it also prohibits the most exciting scenes of the original where the working class is directly confronted by incompetence of the aristocracy. Like Greek drama, the audience hears about dramatic scenes that happen offstage, like the funeral, rather than seeing them.
In the second act, our hard-earned patience pays off when Thomas and Lily finally riff onstage together. Both Annette O’Toole and John Earl Jelks show off the type of acting chops that put the Goodman at the top of its class. Unfortunately, the under-developed or misinterpreted characters around them distract from their incendiary performances. While Maya, the diner waitress, and Meshach, the super club bartender, seem aptly played, the roles seem superfluous and underwritten. Conversely, Paul, the Bob Dylan-like freedom rider, serves a purpose but the actor misses the mark. Paul is the son of a racist preacher, who should be conflicted about his lustful thoughts about both Lily and her daughter Anna. Instead Cliff Chamberlain completely ignores that impure thoughts even exist robbing O’Toole of her great Blanch DuBois moment. While O’Toole is brilliant, even she falls into an easy trap during her fit near the end of the play. Like Lopakhin buying the Ranyevskaya estate in The Cherry Orchard, Thomas’s ownership of the plantation changes nothing in the eyes of the wealthy. Like Lily says when she finds out he has purchased the land, “Who the %^$ does he think he is?” The meaning of that line is that, in her eyes, he is a second-class citizen, a slave, or the son of a slave, regardless of what he owns. O’Toole would have befitted from playing the opposite there- quietly accusing him- because Lily screaming and gnashing teeth, which O’Toole does, means Thomas successfully grabbed power. He has not. Like Lophakin, Thomas is left with a shuffling servant, an empty house, and a string of broken relationships.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
House's Rose and the Rime
Snowflakes fall, little rabbits scamper, eager actors smile and charm, and a set of innovative designs promise the audience a great ride as they enter into House Theatre’s latest offering, Rose and the Rime. In their children’s-theatre-for-adults style, House delights with big shapes, bright colors, and lively music and in doing so evokes audible cheers and gasps from the audience. It’s exciting. It proves what Chicago storefront theatre can do, even in economic hardship: elicit wow-ing experiences. House delivers savvy spectacle on a shoestring budget. Most impressive is the almost miraculous lighting design by Lee Keenan that evenly covers a huge acting area and believably shifts the entire space from igloo to beach front. The sound design and original composition also energizes the audience with impeccable execution and fresh themes. If only all the originality and precision design-work enhanced compelling storytelling.
House prides themselves on “uniting actor and audience through imaginative storytelling.” They succeed until the end; the storytelling suffers for all the actor-audience uniting in Rose and the Rime. While the audience feels included in the performance through creative staging (i.e. Rose’s journey to the Rime Witch which alludes to Grusha’s journey in Brecht’s Caucasian Chalk Circle), the construction of the story itself falls flat when Rose returns. Though Joshua Horvath could not have handed them a cleaner plot arch in his music, the play peaks out upon Rose’s return forcing an antsy audience to wait out another 40 minutes of uneven performances and staging. Perhaps it’s the five-minute ensemble dance number that celebrates Rose’s return that makes the audience think the play must be over.
Unfortunately, the story gets more confusing and less developed along the way. While the overall loop is interesting, the second act watches most of the tight ensemble work crash, makes confusing scene shifts (like the moment when the entire ensemble shows up drinking with no explanation), and loses the whimsy so carefully established in the first act. Beside the fairy tale narrative, the only delightful part of the second act is Joey Steakley who plays the spurned brother of Rose’s lover. His wispy look makes it all the more unexpected and impressive that such clear, raw, stripped-down emotion can come from such a small instrument.
For all the fun and promise of the first half, Rose and the Rime fails to deliver in the end. The audience, ensemble, and story seem tired by the time the moral gets revealed leaving them more isolated than united.
House prides themselves on “uniting actor and audience through imaginative storytelling.” They succeed until the end; the storytelling suffers for all the actor-audience uniting in Rose and the Rime. While the audience feels included in the performance through creative staging (i.e. Rose’s journey to the Rime Witch which alludes to Grusha’s journey in Brecht’s Caucasian Chalk Circle), the construction of the story itself falls flat when Rose returns. Though Joshua Horvath could not have handed them a cleaner plot arch in his music, the play peaks out upon Rose’s return forcing an antsy audience to wait out another 40 minutes of uneven performances and staging. Perhaps it’s the five-minute ensemble dance number that celebrates Rose’s return that makes the audience think the play must be over.
Unfortunately, the story gets more confusing and less developed along the way. While the overall loop is interesting, the second act watches most of the tight ensemble work crash, makes confusing scene shifts (like the moment when the entire ensemble shows up drinking with no explanation), and loses the whimsy so carefully established in the first act. Beside the fairy tale narrative, the only delightful part of the second act is Joey Steakley who plays the spurned brother of Rose’s lover. His wispy look makes it all the more unexpected and impressive that such clear, raw, stripped-down emotion can come from such a small instrument.
For all the fun and promise of the first half, Rose and the Rime fails to deliver in the end. The audience, ensemble, and story seem tired by the time the moral gets revealed leaving them more isolated than united.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Signal Ensemble’s Six Degrees Portrays Half of a Beautiful Painting
John Guare’s best known play, Six Degrees of Separation, questions the difference between chaos and control; anecdotes and experiences; and wealth and poverty through the metaphor of Wassily Kadinsky’s famous two-sided painting. While Signal Ensemble’s recent production in the basement of the Chopin Theatre captures one side of each of those dichotomies (quite literally as they never flip the painting over), its failure to portray the opposite of each causes them to miss the metaphor.
Signal Ensemble nobly tries to set the telling in the round, a must in the pillared basement of the Chopin, but a choice that contributes to the confusion of the piece. The actors’ constant motion coupled with the production’s over-accelerated pace undermines the age and wealth of most of the characters and results in the play becoming more of a farcical anecdote rather than a poignant, measured experience.
The crux of the story rests in Ouisa Kittridge’s (Susie Griffith) battle to find meaning in she and her husband’s encounter with Paul (Bryson Engelen), a young imposter. Paul’s fresh, youthful spirit charms Ouisa and her husband Flan and guarantees a business deal which allows them to live “hand-to-mouth on a higher plateau.” While Engelen does a nice job portraying an eager, educated youth, his alter-ego as a streetwise thief in the second act is a difficult pill to swallow. Though articulate and attractive, he hardly has the charisma needed to leave the audience wishing that he will actually turn out to be who he says he is and to warrant his lasting impression on Oiusa. His frenetic energy leaves Griffith seeming more like a desperate narrator than the wealthy wife of a Fifth Avenue art dealer. Relegated to narrator rather than protagonist, the audience is left wondering they should care if Ouisa wants to help Paul or not.
While its main characters miss the mark, the cast is rounded out with a fine portrayal of Flan by Jon Steinhagen, other well-dressed New York elites, and a group of their children who give great comic performances even if they border on caricature. The set design by Melanie Lancy makes the best of a difficult situation with some well-placed sconces and great furniture choices while the lights battle to make general lighting areas into spotlights for flashbacks and monologues. Each player is costumed by Laura M. Dana impeccably.
Regardless of its challenges, the production is often delightful and affords a night of quick-paced, enjoyable theatre. The main problem is that none of the actors seem at all familiar with wealth: the one thing Paul wants, the thing that Ouisa resents she has in the end, and something that most storefront Chicago actors know nothing about. Signal Ensemble will present Six Degrees through December 20th.
Signal Ensemble nobly tries to set the telling in the round, a must in the pillared basement of the Chopin, but a choice that contributes to the confusion of the piece. The actors’ constant motion coupled with the production’s over-accelerated pace undermines the age and wealth of most of the characters and results in the play becoming more of a farcical anecdote rather than a poignant, measured experience.
The crux of the story rests in Ouisa Kittridge’s (Susie Griffith) battle to find meaning in she and her husband’s encounter with Paul (Bryson Engelen), a young imposter. Paul’s fresh, youthful spirit charms Ouisa and her husband Flan and guarantees a business deal which allows them to live “hand-to-mouth on a higher plateau.” While Engelen does a nice job portraying an eager, educated youth, his alter-ego as a streetwise thief in the second act is a difficult pill to swallow. Though articulate and attractive, he hardly has the charisma needed to leave the audience wishing that he will actually turn out to be who he says he is and to warrant his lasting impression on Oiusa. His frenetic energy leaves Griffith seeming more like a desperate narrator than the wealthy wife of a Fifth Avenue art dealer. Relegated to narrator rather than protagonist, the audience is left wondering they should care if Ouisa wants to help Paul or not.
While its main characters miss the mark, the cast is rounded out with a fine portrayal of Flan by Jon Steinhagen, other well-dressed New York elites, and a group of their children who give great comic performances even if they border on caricature. The set design by Melanie Lancy makes the best of a difficult situation with some well-placed sconces and great furniture choices while the lights battle to make general lighting areas into spotlights for flashbacks and monologues. Each player is costumed by Laura M. Dana impeccably.
Regardless of its challenges, the production is often delightful and affords a night of quick-paced, enjoyable theatre. The main problem is that none of the actors seem at all familiar with wealth: the one thing Paul wants, the thing that Ouisa resents she has in the end, and something that most storefront Chicago actors know nothing about. Signal Ensemble will present Six Degrees through December 20th.
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