Displaying items by tag: August Stringberg

If you can imagine “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf” being played for laughs, you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s in store at Steppenwolf Theatre's production of “The Dance of Death.” Written in Swedish by August Strindberg in 1900, the remarkably comical show is loaded with laughs in Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s 2012 version presented here. Directed by Yasen Peyankov with truly wonderful scenic design by Collette Pollard, it is thoroughly enjoyable 125 years after its debut.

The action is set at a military installation on a Nordic island. We learn the island is a short ferry ride away from Copenhagen, but its exact location isn’t named. Here the military officer and his wife live alienated from their military colleagues, their servants, even from their children, subsumed as they are in a 25-year marital war between each other. 

Jeff Perry and Cliff Chamberlain

Steppenwolf’s production opens powerfully in a silent tableau: the soaring interior of a massive, tapering round granite tower more than three stories tall. With rows of arched windows across the second and third levels, the military fortification widens as it descends to a great drawing room on the main floor that runs the full width of the stage.

A late middle-aged officer in military garb sits stage left—the Captain (Jeff Perry). Gradually our attention is drawn to the figure of a woman, Alice (Kathryn Erbe) hair swirling up in piles Edwardian style, wearing a high-collared long sleeved dress, her full skirt grazing the floor. She stands contemplatively in silhouette against the lingering evening light, framed by a gothic French doorway.

This scene, so reminiscent of an Ingmar Bergman film, grounds us in the Nordic setting, but as soon as the characters Captain and Alice open their mouths, we encounter the casual American English that Irish playwright Conor McPherson has chosen for his scintillating version of Strindberg’s battle of the sexes.

Jeff Perry and Kathryn Erbe

Perry in particular shows his comedic chops, and Perry and Erbe together display that special stage mastery we associate with Steppenwolf. It was so fresh and funny that I set about reading Strindberg’s 1900 original. There I found that McPherson tracks it very closely. But oh how he sharpens the humor, heightens the dramatic line, and injects the venomous choreography that marks this couple’s intimacy. Dark it is, yes, but light also, and just plain funny. 

In the run up to their silver wedding anniversary, Alice and Captain express openly the regret they have over being shackled to each other. They charge each other with having dashed their dreams. Add to that another combustible—a difference in age and vitality. The Captain’s health is clearly unstable, while the younger Alice pants for emancipation by any means. Soon enough a third character arrives—the much younger Kurt (Cliff Chamberlain)—with whom both have a history.

Not having seen this pair for 15 years, Kurt arrives on assignment to the island on which this tower is situated. So we get to see in real time how Alice and the Captain each work their wiles on Kurt to lure him to their respective sides in the marital discord. In the course of this, Alice and the Captain are both revealed to be manipulative, unapologetic liars. At first the Captain seems to bond with Kurt, though its really more of an effort to manipulate him for allegiance. Soon enough Alice is ahead in the battle for Kurt’s affections. This is not really a love triangle, but much more an unstable atom ready to explode.

Alice claims to long for the Captain’s death—or a divorce or other legal means—to set herself free. With Kurt soon under her spell, Alice initiates communications with the Captain’s superiors that could see the Captain relieved of his command, and perhaps incarcerated. As that moment of truth arrives, the infatuation with Kurt withers, and we find the Captain and Alice really are in love, and love to hate each other. It’s at least part of what has made this marriage work!

Without question, McPherson improves on Strindberg, not only making the play accessible to audiences over a century later, but turning it into something immensely more entertaining. Humor is a fragile thing, and comedy is all in the timing of the delivery—the pauses, the quick breaks, the fast retort. McPherson has deftly heightened the impact of the core of Strindberg’s work, finding the key to the characters and dynamics much of which honestly I could not see in the original.

Early in a run, the director is still getting a bit of that timing nailed down, so by the time you see it it will be even funnier. But as it was, there are many, many moments that are over the top funny. Perry and Erbe are masterful in their deliveries, kind of shock and awe hilarious at moments. Chamberlain gives a full-throated energy to his performance as his character Kurt is driven to distraction when he finds himself sucked into the toxicity of the relationship.

“The Dance of Death” runs through March 22, 2026 at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago, and comes highly recommended.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

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