Displaying items by tag: Chay Yew

Everyone encounters many crossroads in their lives, where they make a choice that determines the future…and many people live to regret it. That is where Dawn, the protagonist of Out Here, the new musical receiving its premiere at Court Theatre finds herself. Unlike most people, however, her realization does not come in a quiet moment of reflection, but just as she and her husband, Brian, and 15-year-old daughter, Cleo, have discovered that they have a band and an audience. It’s a lot, and the extremely metatheatrical musical reflects the chaos well. While there are drawbacks to the format, including the impossibility of fully developing most of the characters, the one-act musical by Leslie Buxbaum (book and lyrics) and Erin McKeown (music and lyrics), based on a concept by Buxbaum, McKeown and David J. Levin, is an entertaining and often moving reflection on personal choices and the people they affect.

Breaking the fourth wall is a hallmark of musical theater, and metatheatrical reflections on the musical being performed are also not uncommon these days, but Out Here takes these conceits to a new level. And that, arguably, is what makes it work so well. The characters must learn how to respond to the fact that they are living their lives in a musical as they navigate the changes in their family structure. The musical form proves to be a convenient way to condense the journey into an evening for the benefit of the audience that comes with it. It also provides a metaphor for the families’ (there are several) journeys from fumbling with new relationships and legal and geographic uncertainty to settling into the rhythms of new lives. The music reflects the jarring awkwardness of both the unexpected performance and the fallout of Dawn’s announcement that her “here” is no longer where she wants to be. As they get more comfortable with both performance and marital differences, the characters begin to exploit their access to a band—and apparently new-found guitar skills—to sing their own songs and share their emotions with each other and the audience. Buxbaum and McKeown toy with breaking the rules of musical theater, allowing characters to exit to the green room and the lobby and to directly address the band and audience. When a mediator is needed, he enters from the band and introduces potential shared custody options in song—a song that that Cleo recognizes from a friend’s experience (and wonders if she could get a puppy, too). Director Chay Yew wisely trusts the material and allows characters and audience to just keep up—no unnecessary scene changes or projections indicating changes in setting—making for a fast-paced exploration of relationships, time, and what’s important in a life. It’s occasionally messy or unfulfilled, but always compelling.

Photo of Alex Goodrich, Ellie Duffey, and Becca Ayers in Out Here at Court Theatre. Phot by Michael Brosilow.

Despite all the metatheatrical machinations, Out Here has an easy-to-follow plot and a singular protagonist. This is Dawn’s story, and the character uses this to her advantage, controlling both the narrative and the other characters as much as possible—though neither musicals nor reality allow for time travel, not that Dawn doesn’t try. While passionately pursuing the life that she wants (and simultaneously trying to figure out what that means), Dawn could quickly become grating, as she seems to be surrounded by good options and supportive friends and family, plus a band. Fortunately, Becca Ayers brings lightness and self-awareness to the role, as well as the ability to belt out power ballads and harmonize with her partners in multiple musical genres. Cliff Chamberlain as Brian plays to his strengths as a mostly non-musical actor—and his voice works well for the folksy guitar serenades that Brian chooses as his musical medium. He is charming and initially almost overly forbearing but grows stronger as he realizes that he has been given an opportunity that he is not willing to give up. As their daughter, Cleo, Ellie Duffey is charismatic and complicated, thrilled to have an audience, wanting to support her parents, but irritated that she is being left out of the decision-making. When she finally gets a song, it’s a propulsive punk declaration that is a necessary release. Bethany Thomas as Robin, Dawn’s ex-girlfriend who reluctantly reenters Dawn’s life, is uncompromising and vulnerable, wanting to rekindle their relationship, but justifiably apprehensive, and her dynamic voice is perfect to convey both her character’s surety about what she needs, and her fear that she might be disappointed again. Thomas’s comic timing also complements Robin’s sarcasm.

Alex Goodrich brings charm and flair to the most musical-theater role of the musical, Martin—he’s in the band! He’s the mediator! He’s the BFF! He can be anything you want him to be, keep the tempo and find the right accompaniment. Though not personally invested, his empathetic performance ingratiates him to both the family and the audience. Also, part of the familial rebuild are Gina, the woman Brian begins dating and Jett, Robin’s grown child. They, too, get swept up in the musical, but they do not have their own songs (maybe if there were a second act?), though they manage to hold their own in the musical/slash family drama they have entered. Amanda Pulcini brings a grounded humor and composure to the most awkward of situations Gina finds herself in. The fact that Jett’s entrance is often introduced with the ominous phrase “the plot thickens” is ironic, since Jett, as played by Z Mowry, is amiable and understanding, someone who seems like a good person to have as a friend, and usually offers sound advice that helps the plot along.

The musical and the cast get top-notch support from the designers and musicians. Co-orchestrator (with Erin McKeown), conductor, and keyboard player Christie Chiles Twillie backs up the vocals and underscores the book perfectly, keeping the tempos tight and the volume attuned to the singers and the script. Breon Arzell’s movement adds controlled chaos, matching the verbal humor and tension with apt but unintrusive movement. Scenic Designers Andrew Boyce and Lauren M. Nichols have created a musical-scale proscenium out of roof beams that mirror the moods of the home’s inhabitants, with a large but cozy interior and expansive outside. Sound designer Lee Fiskness integrates sound effects with the music to mesh the sounds of home with the beats of the band. The musicians make it seem possible to suddenly have a life become a musical, moving easily between styles, “acting” in response to the cast and swelling instrumental lines for onstage instruments.

Whether one likes Out Here will probably depend on one’s tolerance for stories of privileged people choosing between multiple good options surrounded by understanding friends and family. However, there is no denying that using a DIY musical to represent the struggles of a family trying to deal with change is a resonant metaphor, and the music captures some common challenges in fresh and thought-provoking ways. The book by Leslie Buxbaum explores the joy and tension of familial and other relationships with compassion and a great deal of humor. Erin McKeown’s music (with lyrics by Buxbaum and McKeown) allows the audience to get to know the characters and share moments from years of their lives in around 90 minutes (the magic of “theater time”). Chay Yew’s production is fast-paced, uncluttered, funny, moving, and thoughtful. Though Out Here wisely avoids trying to tie up all loose ends, it leaves the audience with a lot of good questions to ponder.

Out Here runs through May 10 at Court Theatre, Wed/Thurs/Fri at 7:30pm, Sat/Sun at 2:00pm & 7:30pm.

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

In its world premiere at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, “Dhaba on Devon Avenue” is a strong play, from a promising writer, Madhuri Shekar, winner in 2020 of the Lanford Wilson Playwriting Award. A TimeLine Theatre production, it is directed by Chay Yew.

Another of Shekar’s plays, “A Nice Indian Boy,” produced by Chicago’s Rasaka Theater Company in 2015, was adapted to a 2024 film released theatrically (now streaming) —a kind of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” crossed with “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” set in India and with a gay white American boy as the surprise fiance.

“Dhaba on Devon Avenue” is in that vein, but a more serious drama: the widower Neeraj (Anish Jethmalani), patriarch of the struggling Dhaba Canteen, a South Asian restaurant on Chicago’s Devon Avenue, is coaching his sous chef daughter Rita (Tina Muñoz Pandya) on the eve of the restaurant’s 30th anniversary banquet. As Neeraj reveals his secrets of Sindhi cooking (Sind is a region of what is now Pakistan) we move into “The Bear” territory—a bit of demanding “Yes Chef” performance as Rita never seems to get the sauce up to Neeraj’s expectation—despite having made it for years.

We suspect Neeraj is tasting with his emotions rather than his palate, and indeed this proves to be the case. Neeraj is one of those old timers that thinks if we can just get things back to exactly where they were in the old days, the problems will go away. But that’s complicated by a diagnosis of Parkinson’s, with early symptoms just beginning to show.

Though she is frustrated by her father’s demands - Rita has been successfully making these dishes for years - she submits to Neeraj’s demands, starting dishes over multiple times to get the flavors just right. The pressure for this “Big Night” banquet is seasoned with urgent calls between Neeraj and his bank, with a deadline for satisfying his loan closing in. When Rita suggests forestalling foreclosure may be more important than perfecting the meal, Neeraj is dismissive. “We always have money problems,” but we can’t serve “substandard food,” in a cruel slight to his daughter Rita.

While the dramatic force plays between father Nareej and daughter Rita, it is the supporting roles that provide color and flair to “Dhaba on Devon Avenue.” Enter Neeraj’s daughter Sindhu (Arja Daire is terrific), an emancipated married professional living the upper middle class life in Seattle. She tries to connect with her dad, and could advise him well, if Neeraj would only give her the chance. He won’t.

Enter brother-in-law Adil (Muheen Jahan, in an excellent comedic performance), who is inspired to invest in Dhaba Canteen. Reluctant to admit his impending failure, Neeraj responds with a wall of “No,” even as the pressure builds. To add more fuel to the dramatic fire, Rita has struck up a romantic tryst with the line cook, Luc Fuentes (Ina Arcinegas in a solid performance), the one non-South Asian character.

All these components add a lot of baggage to the core of the drama - Neeraj’s resistance to the changes necessary for the business to survive. Or more broadly, a man facing the end of the road by doubling down on the past, and with little grace.

How all this gets resolved is nicely packaged in a 90-minute, no-intermission show. But I couldn’t help feeling that keeping the focus on the patriarch, making it more like Lear or Death of a Salesman, might have made for better drama.

The set (Lauren M. Nichols) with a fully equipped kitchen—commercial range, stainless work surfaces, under counter coolers, even tiled floors—was spot on, but props seemed scant for a truly working kitchen. Transition music between scenes was rather too loud. And in certain scenes—such as Rita rummaging around in a file box for a long lost recipe book—she finds it in seconds. It should have taken longer, perhaps, with more stuff in that box.

Definitely worth seeing, if only to get on the track to follow Madhuri Shekar’s next work, “Dhaba on Devon Avenue” runs through July 27, 2025 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

*This review is also featured on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/! 

Scott Bradley is an institution within the Chicago theater community. His quirky, campy musical versions of old horror movies have been sell-out hits around town for years. Which is what makes “Packing” all the more interesting. He instead turns the spotlight on himself. About Face borrows Victory Gardens artistic director Chay Yew to direct Scott Bradley’s one-man confessional.

In “Packing” Bradley moves away from the puppets and classic rock and opens his own life up to a 90-minute journey through the turbulent AIDS-era gay life. First and foremost, this is incredibly brave for someone as well-known as Scott, many colleagues are likely to see About Face’s premiere. Bradley is not afraid to expose every aspect of his life from physical abuse to addiction and failure. That might all sound like a bummer but Bradley’s inviting narrative style is humorous and relatable. And of course, it’s all tied to together with various pop culture influences.

“Packing” is Bradley’s life story, but it’s also the collective legacy of the midwestern gay experience. A reminder of how far the LGBT community has come in the past three decades. Bradley stands alone on a stark stage and begins his story at the age he began to understand he was different. His childhood is rather unhappy, but his delivery makes it seem as if he’s the only who doesn’t know how traumatic his home life was. As he grows up, the story becomes more familiar. The far reaches of the Midwest can be an unaccepting place and that sent many LGBT people to the cities to seek acceptance. Not only acceptance of the LGBT lifestyle, but acceptance of the creative lifestyle.

Bradley’s heartbreaking failures changed the course of his life in ways that few can predict when they’re in the pits of despair. His struggles with drug addiction and alcohol dependence and his explanation for why he turned to substances to quiet the critical voices in his head are all too real. Many people in the LGBT community struggle with substance abuse and non-traditional societal norms can sometimes perpetuate cycles of addiction. His stories aren’t just his stories, they’re all of our stories.

It’s hard to imagine anyone else portraying Scott Bradley but Scott Bradley. His performance style is at times frantic, but always warm and authentic. He takes an audience in his arms and let’s them know that it’s okay to fail. He doesn’t ask an audience for approval, but rather to say if you’re struggling, you’re not alone. Chay Yew helps draw out Bradley’s vulnerability through a variety of pseudo-characters; Bradley at various ages of his life. Yew also designed the set, though sparse, is effective. The pop cultural cannon that inspired Bradley is playfully cast on the floor of the stage rather than the backdrop. An interesting visual twist.

“Packing” is a journey of self-acceptance through an era that was less gay friendly. It’s Scott Bradley exposing his storied life in order to help anyone who finds themselves in the same boat. It’s a theater experience that gives voice to anyone who fled small town roots in order to find themselves.

Through December 7th at About Face theater - Theater Wit. 1229 W Belmont Ave. 773-975-8150

What makes a life extraordinary? Is it the chance meetings with celebrities, surviving world war or is it all the love that surrounds us? ‘Lady in Denmark’ by Dael Orlandersmith makes its world premiere at Goodman Theatre under the direction of Victory Gardens’ Artistic Director, Chay Yew.

Orlandersmith is known for her non-traditional approach to theatre but ‘Lady in Denmark’ feels a little more familiar in style and content. Orlandersmith’s work was last seen at the Goodman in the spring when she starred in her one-woman play ‘Until the Flood.’ Her 2007 work ‘Yellowman’ was shortlisted for the Pulitzer. Orlandersmith tends to write single-actor pieces in which storytelling turns into character and dialogue. While the idea of one-woman-play might have some running for the exits, trust that ‘Lady in Denmark’ will hold your attention, and without the 2-drink minimum.

‘Lady in Denmark’ is basically a 90-minute monologue from the point of view of Helene (Linda Gehringer). She’s nearing 80 and cleaning up the birthday party she’d just thrown for her late husband who’d died shortly before. While turning over sides of Billie Holiday records, Helene relates the story of her life. Helene is a fictional character who lived through the privation of the German occupation of Denmark in WWII. The music of Billie Holiday has been the through-line of her life.

Between Orlandersmith’s script and Gehringer’s performance, this play touches on so many things. Linda Gehringer tells the stories of Helene’s life with such magnitude that you nearly feel like you lived the memories yourself. An impressive Danish accent contributes to a real sense of authenticity in this play. You quickly forget that this character is indeed fiction. Gehringer’s incredibly human performance reaches a peak by the end when she tells us about her husband’s illness and death. Orlandersmith includes some nuggets of wisdom on the idea of grief. While we never meet Helene’s husband, we cry for her loss just the same.

Helene tells us how she survived the occupation, managed to host a dinner for Billie Holiday in her home in Denmark but also married the love of her life and created an entire life for herself in America. Some may only think of the time they had a celebrity in their home when they take stock of a life, but Orlandersmith shows us a woman who appreciated every ounce of love in her life. There’s a lot of humor in this play but it’s well balanced with bittersweet ruminations on loss and grief. And of course, a killer soundtrack.

Through November 18th at Goodman Theatre. 170 N Dearborn. 312-443-3811

Lettie, by Boo Killebrew and directed by Chay Yew, is a very finely crafted work, an artfully produced show with sensitive performances that gradually unveil the complicated personalities on stage.

When we meet Lettie, she is in the visitors lounge area of a halfway house somewhere in Chicago, transitioning from her time in prison, working her way through a training program as a welder.

A visitor, Carla, arrives with shopping bags filled with gifts. Lettie seems perturbed by Carla’s gifts, and quickly lets her  know that no visitors can go beyond this area. We're not quite sure who anyone is just yet, and Lettie adds to the mystery with the line, "I would really like to see them." Who, we don't know. Carla seems clueless about Lettie, and as the scene ends our sympathies lean toward her. 

We see Lettie next in the welding shop, studying the technical manual and meeting Minny (5 Stars for Charin Alvarez!), a working welder in the shop where Lettie is training. Minny is funny, life affirming, outgoing, offering friendly advice, and dispensing wisdom, advising Lettie at one point, "There is no moving forward,there is only moving around."

Lettie reacts ungraciously to Minny's friendly overtures, and we see now see her in a different light: mean spirited, inordinately angry. 

Next time Carla returns to visit, we learn she is Lettie’s older sister. That she and her husband Frank (Ryan Kitley turns in a solid performance) have fostered Lettie’s children – Layla (Krystal Ortiz is completely convincing as the ingenue) and River (Matt Farabee) during her years in jail. And we learn that Lettie wants them back. She wants her family together, and our sympathies shift again.

Caroline Neff shows again in the role Lettie that she is quickly becoming one of Chicago's finest actresses. She really carries it off. Kirsten Fitzgerald as Carla is wonderful, bringing the same energy and excellence she showed as the mayor in The Traitor at A Red Orchid Theatre. 

The Virginia Toulmin Foundation helped fund the development of the script, and the Edgerton Foundation contributed to more rehearsal development. So we have a very refined show. 

For all the excellence in writing and acting, the playwright chose to focus on the family drama, rather than the workplace – where women struggle to make it in the trade careers. It might be even more interesting to look at the drama inherent in women as a frequently unwelcome intruder in those male-dominated precincts.

With Lettie, we risk characterizing an apprenticeship in the trades as a dangerous (Lettie sustains burns) job meant for rehabilitating felons. As presented in Lettie, welding sounds like a dead end, and that doesn't ring true in Chicago, though it may seem so to writers. Welders' median income is more than $57,000, and they are in great demand everywhere.

That said, it is a very well wrought play. As Lettie progresses through layers of revelation, and as scenes unfold, our insights into the characters' back stories tug our sympathies to and fro. We learn that Frank and Carla are running a deeply Christian household, and the children are expected to obey, and are pressured not to dream too much, and aim for practical lives. While it sounds oppressive, Killebrew deftly demonstrates the upside of a solid structure for the kids: emotional security.

We see that River and Layla are disaffected teens, curious but suspicious of their mother Lettie, and still reliant and attached to their foster parents. We discover Frank has lost his job and is struggling with the obsolescence many middle-aged white male managers have experienced.

And we learn more of the trials that Lettie has lived through, sexual abuse and adolescent pregnancy. In other words, there was suffering enough to go around for all. Our hearts are drawn to compassion for each of the players on this stage - and that is quite an accomplishment. 

Lettie challenges the status quo with her demands for her children’s return, but in the long run she does not have what it takes to create a home for them, or even herself.

The spare sets (Andrew Boyce in scenic design) help keep the focus on the dialog, and the projections of imagery on a backstage brick wall are very nicely done. 

Lettie runs through May 6 at Chicago's Victory Gardens Theatre in the Biograph.