Displaying items by tag: Chike Johnson

Shakespeare’s comedies share a familiar architecture: mistaken identity, disguises, intersecting plotlines, a generous helping of prose, and language that delights in wordplay and double entendre. They are also, crucially, driven by sharp, intelligent women who often see more clearly than the men around them. With that foundation in mind, Chicago Shakespeare Theater’s production of The Merry Wives of Windsor leans confidently into these conventions - and then accelerates them - resulting in a delightfully mischievous evening.

Directed with precision and pace by Phillip Breen, the production wastes no time settling in. It moves briskly, almost breathlessly at times. Breen understands that comedy, especially Shakespearean comedy, thrives on rhythm. Doors must slam at just the right moment, disguises must be revealed a beat too late, and jokes must land before the audience has time to anticipate them. Here, the timing is razor-sharp, aided immeasurably by a cast of 22 actors who navigate the text with clarity and ease.

Max Jones’ set design cleverly situates Windsor in a contemporary world of affluence and quiet excess. This is a town where privilege is not just visible - it is assumed. Children attend private school, men play rugby, and women occupy a social sphere of lunches and shopping that doubles as a kind of informal power network. The Garter Inn, rendered as a dimly lit bar with a billiards table anchoring the space, becomes a playground for Falstaff’s schemes. In contrast, Dr. Caius’ sterile office reception area offers a clinical absurdity, while the Ford household gleams with white carpeting, glass, and sweeping staircases - its opulence undercut by the chaos unfolding within. A particularly fluid set change transforms the space with near-magic, reinforcing the play’s obsession with illusion and transformation. The final forest scene, textured with dirt mounds and trees, grounds the production just enough before it tips fully into theatrical fantasy.

What emerges most clearly in this production is the idea that Windsor is a world turned slightly askew. No one is quite what they claim to be. The knight, Sir John Falstaff, is anything but noble - he is vain, opportunistic, and gloriously ridiculous. The doctor, Caius, is less healer than hot-headed rival, perpetually threatening violence. The clergyman’s thick accent renders him a subject of humor rather than authority. Even the Justice of the Peace seems more eager for confrontation than civility. It is a community in which status is worn like a costume—and just as easily discarded.

Photo by Kyle Flubacker.

At the center of it all are the “merry wives,” who prove themselves to be the most grounded and perceptive figures on stage. Ora Jones’ Mistress Page and Issy Van Randwyck’s Mistress Ford  anchor the production with wit and composure. They are never merely reactive; they orchestrate the action, turning Falstaff’s attempted manipulation into a series of escalating humiliations. Their intelligence drives the comedy, ensuring that the laughter always has a point of view.

The supporting cast is equally strong. Chike Johnson’s Master Page exudes an easy confidence, while Timothy Edward Kane’s Master Ford leans fully into the character’s jealousy, finding both humor and unease in his suspicion. Nate Burger’s Dr. Caius is a comic standout, his bluster and indignation landing with delightful force. Nancy Voigts brings a bustling energy to Mistress Quickly, threading together the play’s many schemes, while Paul Oakley Stovall’s Justice Shallow captures the absurdity of self-importance.

And then there is Jason Simon’s Falstaff - a performance that embraces the character’s excess without apology. Legend has it that Queen Elizabeth I so adored Falstaff that she demanded to see him in love. Here, however, Falstaff is in love with nothing so much as himself. Simon leans into that vanity, crafting a figure who is both despicable and irresistibly watchable. His repeated downfalls never diminish him; instead, they reveal the elasticity of his ego.

Ultimately, this production succeeds because it trusts the mechanics of Shakespearean comedy while fully committing to its world. Disguises are embraced, identities are blurred, and language sparkles with innuendo. Yet beneath the laughter lies a sharper observation: that power, status, and even identity itself are often performances. In Windsor, everyone is playing a role - some just play it better than others.

Highly Recommended

When:   Through May 3

Where:  Chicago Shakespeare Theater 800 East Grand Avenue in Chicago

Tickets:  $60 - $120

Box Office: 312-595-5600

Info: www.chicagoshakes.com

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

When a business closes, who mourns their loss? Lee Kirk’s new play Ashland Avenue, now running at Goodman Theatre, asks that very question. Kirk resides in LA, but he studied theatre at DePaul a few decades back and has a strong connection to the city of Chicago. On a recent visit, he remarked on how few of his college haunts were still open. Perhaps it wasn’t grief that inspired him, but rather a nostalgia for the places he spent formative years.

You can’t tell a Chicago story in Chicago without one of the city's most celebrated actors, Francis Guinan. As to be expected, he brings a certain hometown charm to the role of Pete, of Pete’s TVs–his time capsule of an electronic store. Ashland Avenue begins with Pete preparing to be honored by the mayor for being part of the community for over 40 years. His daughter Sam, played by Jenna Fischer of ‘The Office’, loyally helps him keep the shop running as the world marches into the future and threatens to leave her behind.

Ashland Avenue runs the length of Chicago, and each block tells a different story, but every city has its own version of changing neighborhoods and gentrification. Kirk’s use of objects as storytelling devices feels especially relevant as a parallel to Pete’s TV shop. Though TVs are still a staple of most households, their importance has significantly waned in an era in which you can stream network TV on your iPhone. Ashland Avenue is at its core a play about the tension between Pete’s sustained resistance to change and his daughter Sam’s yearning for a new beginning.

If you live anywhere long enough, you’ll see storefronts change, but how often do we think about the proprietors and what prompted them to close their doors? Ashland Avenue brings you behind the counter to share in both the victories and failures of small business. It’s a play that celebrates family owned and operated businesses in a world of Targets and Amazons. It’s weird to say a business becomes part of your own family but like an aging family member, once they’re gone, they’re gone.

The small cast is rounded out by Sam’s husband Mike (Chike Johnson), Pete’s former shop assistant, now roommate Jess (Cordelia Dewdney), and a mysterious late-night customer played by Will Allan. A whole world of emotional catharsis happens just within the shop walls, but big things come in small packages. The scene work between Fischer and Guinan is understated and heartrending, which is to say, human and honest. Both performances only add to the authenticity of the play.

It can be tough to write a play about Chicago when you are not really from Chicago. Too often we see out-of-town writers jam in the words “bean” and “Sears Tower” but Ashland Avenue has perfectly captured the spirit of what it means to be a Chicagoan. Perhaps it’s the reliably earnest Guinan’s performance or Kirk’s brilliant script but Ashland Avenue might just be the best Chicago play since Bruce Norris’ 2011 Pulitzer winner Clybourn Park. 

Through October 12 at Goodman Theatre. 170 N Dearborn St. 312-443-3800

Stories that explore the emotional lives of men—especially Black men—are still far too rare on the American stage. Outside the monumental works of August Wilson, narratives that center male vulnerability, intimacy, and connection remain the exception. Lolita Chakrabarti’s Hymn, now playing at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, is a welcome and moving addition to that limited canon.

Originally written for a London audience, Hymn has been thoughtfully reworked by Chakrabarti for an American setting, shifting the story from Bristol, England to Chicago. The transition is seamless—perhaps even revelatory. Under the deft direction of Ron O.J. Parson, the play feels deeply rooted in the cultural and emotional rhythms of its new home.

At the heart of Hymn is the evolving relationship between two middle-aged Black men: Benny, played with warmth and quiet power by Chiké Johnson, and Gil, brought to life with nuance and restraint by James Vincent Meredith. The story begins with a funeral and slowly unfolds into something akin to a spiritual duet. Benny introduces the idea of “sympathetic resonance,” a musical concept describing how sound vibrations can cause another object to vibrate in harmony. It becomes a poetic metaphor for the emotional bond that grows between the two half-brothers as they become a whole.

Though the story is driven by dialogue, it's punctuated by music and movement—moments that feel less like breaks in the action and more like expressions of unspoken truths. As Benny and Gil dance, sing, and joke their way through scenes from their shared and separate pasts, their connection strengthens in ways that are more felt than seen. It’s only as the final notes settle that we fully understand what we’ve witnessed.

The production design roots the story firmly in the present while pulsing with the energy of the hip-hop era that shaped the characters. Rasean Davonte Johnson’s scenic and projection design is sleek, versatile, and evocative, transforming the minimalist set from a church to a boxing ring, a spare bedroom, and even a local eatery effortlessly. Yvonne Miranda’s costume design subtly tracks the characters’ emotional evolution, using clothing as quiet storytelling. Willow James’ sound and composition design doesn’t just support the action—it lives within it, amplifying the emotional beats with a soundscape drawn from the golden age of hip-hop and rap, pulling the audience into the same rhythm that moves the characters.

Hymn is a quiet triumph. It doesn’t shout its themes or offer easy catharsis. Instead, it hums, vibrates, and resonates—an invitation to witness male vulnerability not as spectacle, but as something sacred and human.

Highly Recommended

When: Through May 25
Where: Chicago Shakespeare Theatre 800 East Grand Avenue in Chicago.
Tickets: $52 - $95
Info:  www.chicagoshakespeare.com

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

Decades before the enactment of Title IV, famous for its impact on expanding opportunities for women and girls in sports and well before the inaugural game of the WNBA, an African American women became the first to play for a professional baseball team.

“Toni Stone”, written by award winning playwright Lydia Diamond is receiving a rip-rousing production at the Goodman Theatre. Arguably, this is Lydia Diamond’s finest work, and that is saying a mouthful. She has consistently written engaging, thought-provoking work, adding beauty and depth to the American theatre canon.

We meet Toni Stone as she introduces herself and her teammates in a circus like atmosphere. She narrates the story of her life with The Indianapolis Clowns, a baseball team much like the Harlem Globetrotters. Although they play baseball and are darn good at it, their main job is to entertain. This was before African Americans were allowed to play in the all-white baseball leagues. We meet a cast of characters that are the most interesting characters I’ve seen on stage in a very long time.

Diamond wrote Stone as a beautifully complex, conflicted character. I don’t believe Toni Stone ever saw herself as sexual. She knew she wasn’t a man, but she also knew she was so much more than what was expected of a woman. She saw herself simply as a baseball player. She expected everyone to see her as a baseball player. When she meets Alberga, a male suitor that falls in love with her, she is thrown a curveball. Along with her only woman friend Millie, she navigates life as a baseball player and wife. Baseball came easy, being a wife was a bit more challenging.

This is Toni’s story, but it couldn’t be told without the assistance of a team of rambunctious, opinionated, athletic men. Under award-winning director Ron OJ Parsons’ assured and exuberant direction we are transported back to the late 1940’s.

With the help of movement director, Cristin Carole, Parson’s has his cast dancing, singing, juggling and doing acrobatics as if by second nature. This is a fun show to watch. The Actors morph into a variety of characters with striking ease.

It would be unfair not to mention some of the uniformly excellent the cast by name. Tracey Bonner is a joy as Toni Stone. Her warmth and enthusiasm are evident in this role. It’s hard to think of another actress embodying this character. The outrageously talented Edgar Miguel Sanchez plays a bookish Spec with steely resolve. Kai A. Ealy fresh off the Court stage in “The Island” gives us an energetic King Tut. Travis A. Knight goes from team bus driver Stretch to team owner Syd Pollock effortlessly. Chike Johnson brings a tender effect to Alberga, Toni’s admirer/husband. It was good seeing Chike on stage in Chicago again. Jon Hudson Odom plays a drunk ballplayer and Millie, Toni’s friend and confidant. The character of Millie could have gone too many ways of wrong, but for the writing of Diamond, the direction of Parsons and the acting expertise of Odom. Odom played Millie so understated that it was sublime and never caricature.

Todd Rosenthal’s set of a dugout with bleachers is masterful. This set has lots of surprises, with projections by Mike Tutaj it becomes the team bus, a boardroom, a bar but mostly a baseball playing field. Keith Parham’s lighting design was as high energy as the set, blinding white lights reminiscent of a summer day in the ballpark, quiet country roads at midnight.

Toni Stone was honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1991 and was inducted into the Women’s Sports Hall of Fame in 1993. Although we have made inroads in sports, to date there are no women playing professional major league baseball.

Not only is this an entertaining piece of theatre, it’s also an important piece of theatre. How often does that happen?

When: Through Feb. 26

Where: Goodman Albert Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn

Tickets: $25 - $45

Info: goodmantheatre.org