Displaying items by tag: Carl Wisniewski

Can you have a play run 90 minutes with no dialog? Indubitably, as Trap Door Theatre demonstrates with its new production, “Le Bal.”

Adapted to the stage by Stephen Buescher, it is inspired by a 1983 French film of the same title. Of the absence of dialog, one Trap Door company member told me  “Actors love it.” With no lines to memorize, the audience gets to see more clearly all the other things actors do to bring characters and scenes to life—and that is amazing to witness. Like the film, sans dialog scenes in “Le Bal” on stage are set against a backdrop of sound and music that captures the sweep of history, each reflecting those moments in time. 

The film follows 50 years in the life of a Parisian dance hall, and the characters are drawn entirely from the patrons and employees as it evolves from from the 1930s through the war years, German occupation, into present day. Trap Door’s version which was commissioned to the playwright, Buescher (he also directs), shows a longer sweep of time—nearlya century—and we move in reverse chronological order from the current times back to the 1930s.

A pastiche of skits reflects the period of the music, and evokes not just the passage of time, but the feel and spirit of those moments. Unlike the film, which sticks with dancing, Buescher gives us dynamic vivant tableaus, opening with music, drugs and sex then coursing backward through powerful settings expressing post-war grief, or the shocking onslaught of COVID. As corpses are shrouded by masked nurses, I was moved and the melancholy that enveloped us in those days arose for me. And the unvisited sorrow at the deaths.

We witness the incredulity and unchained anger of younger generations as the Black Lives Matter movement sweeps the nation. In this, Buescher allows for a departure, as the cast gasps George Floyd's words: “I can’t breathe!” We see the tumult of the 1960s political revolt against Viet Nam, the 1950s housewives awaiting their men’s return from the Korean War, and back and back through WWII and the formalized grief that met millions of deaths. Then through the pre-WWII Depression accompanied by a Franklin Roosevelt inaugural address. And back further to the bursting bubble of speculation that brought on the Great Depression, with its breadlines, soup kitchens, and hard times. All of it shown, including the thundering oppressiveness of the factory lines that fueled the riches, with risky working conditions that could be dangerous, even deadly, and that spawned the sometimes violent labor movement.

Two recurring themes Buescher brings forth are the fragmentation of social frameworks, and the recurring response of Americans to unite and demonstrate for justice and a better life. In insightful Dramaturgy Notes, these listings of recurring unrest and mass demonstrations have touched so many areas: that labor unrest of the 1930s, through demands for racial equality arising in the 1950s, the political and anti-war unrest of the 1960s (though it’s not called out in the notes I detected it on the stage), ACTUP’s demand for support during the AIDs crisis, Occupy Wall St. in the early 2000s, then Black Lives Matter, rising Gay Pride visiblity, MAGA rallies, women’s and immigrants rights marches, and much more.

It is not just music accompanying the major timeframes on stage, but sounds - Dany Rockett, sound technician, does a remarkable job working in real-time with the cast. The costumes designed by Rachel Sypniewski, are just enough to create the impressions needed, from sailor suits, to poodle skirts. Quick changes, usually onstage, are handled with minimal fuss, as the scenes of epochs elide one to another.

Buescher's vision for "Le Bal," and the work of the amazing cast at Trap Door—Dan Cobbler, Genevieve Corkery, Cat Evans, Emily Nichelson, Gius Thomas, Jasz Ward and Carl Wisniewski—stretch the bounds of what theater can be. 

“Le Bal,” adapted and designed by Steven Buescher comes recommended; a unique theatre experience and another example of why Trap Door is a treasure. “Le Bal” runs through June 20, 2026 at Trap Door Theatre 1655 W. Cortland in Chicago.

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

Directors say Caryl Churchill’s Love and Information is a challenging play, but in good hands, it is a treasure. And this is what we have at Trap Door Theatre’s production – an absolutely enthralling experience directed by Kim McKean.

It is like a tightly scripted improv show, packed with familiar personalities, some of them offbeat, playing roles that could share the stage in Lily Tomlin’s “Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe.” McKean’s accomplishment becomes clearer when you realize Love and Information brings us more than 100 sometimes loosely identified characters, mostly appearing as couples or trios, in a series of short scenes that end in blackouts.

These are gathered into seven sections, and within each, Churchill requires the director to set the order of the scenes and assign the roles. To further spice it up, the script packs an eighth section of scenes intended to be sprinkled at will in the show wherever they seem to fit.

And those scenes! Listing heavily toward couple encounters, Churchill shows us how information becomes a form of emotional currency in relationships. Couples share (or withhold) knowledge, leveraging it to gain power, debilitate, bond – or just plain flirt. A representative sample:

• A girl whose rare nerve condition doesn’t let her feel pain asks a man to explain what pain is. (He compares it to a failed love affair.)
• A man tries to impress an adoring girl by describing his research in animal learning, but ends up clinically describing dissection of chicken brains involved in his work. (She is not put off.)
• An aspiring male suitor brings a young girl a red flower. On his knees as her feet, his heart is full and open. She thanks him for it, profusely. Then too profusely, launching into a rattling, seemingly endless manic riff about how we see red, things they will do together, envisions a day trip on a train….as she goes on and on, he wilts.

Admittedly it is difficult to describe humor, and really which Churchill gives us is a dark and coldly clinical look at the world and those we share it with. Love and Intelligence doesn't traffick in sentimentality. It opens with a scene in which people are moving mechanically and seemingly inexplicably on the stage. A man enters the crowd, apparently paranoid. Then the electronic dance music rises and we see it is like a dance floor at a rave, and suddenly everything makes sense - but Churchill has pulled back the curtain and we cannot unsee the uncomfortable social aspects of that dance floor.  A  Here's a sample scene with a man who doesn’t recognize his wi

But I am your wife.

You look like my wife.

That’s because I am. Look, even that little birthmark behind my ear. Look.

Yes, I see it. It’s me.

Darling sweet, it’s me. I’m here.

No, she’s gone. They’ve all gone. Who’s gone?

Everyone I know. Everyone who loved me.

No, I love you.

I don’t want you to love me, I don’t know you.

There’s things only we know, aren’t there. That day on the beach with the shells. You remember that? Yes, of course. And cabbages. Why is cabbages a funny word, we’re the only ones who have cabbages as a joke because of what happened with the cabbages. Cabbages is a joke, yes?

Cabbages was a joke I shared with my wife. I miss my wife.

But I am. . . Let me touch you. If you’d see what it feels like to touch me. If we made love you’d know it was me because there are things we like to do and no one else would know that, if I was a stranger pretending to be her I wouldn’t know those things, you’d feel you were back with me, you would I know, please.

You disgust me. You frighten me. What are you?

Director McKean has made the most of this formula, selecting and ordering carefully from this smorgasbord of very fine writing, packing dozens of carefully honed mind-bending scenes by Churchill. Among Britain’s top ranking playwrights, Churchill is known best known this side of the Atlantic for her Cloud Nine or Top Girls. Most recently Chicago had a chance to see her Dark Mirror-style A Number, a stunning 2012 thriller produced at Writer’s Theatre in Glencoe last year. And McKean also brought in a spectacular cast, willing to go with a blank slate that evolved into this fine show: Whitney Dottery, Jake Flum, Brian Huther, Emily Lotspeich, Michael Mejia, Emily Nichelson, Keith Surney, Lilly Tukur, Carl Wisniewski. Love and Information runs Thursdays, Fridays and Saturday’s through October 19 at Trap Door Theatre, 1655 W. Cortland in Chicago.