Displaying items by tag: Christopher Wayland

A musical, but it’s just the voices in your head. Sounds just crazy enough to win the 2020 Pulitzer for Drama. “A Strange Loop” by Michael R. Jackson finally makes its Chicago premiere at Raven Theatre in a co-production with About Face Theatre. Mikael Burke directs a fantastic production with a knock-out cast.

Not many musicals are awarded a Pulitzer for Drama. Only 10 in fact. So, when one is selected (before it plays Broadway), there’s a lot of curiosity. “A Strange Loop” is the best kind of new musical—in that it’s hard to explain. In the era of an abundance of movie-turned-musical adaptations, it’s refreshing to see something entirely unique.

In this seven-person, one-man show, Usher (Eddie Weaver) is working as an usher at a Broadway theater while writing a musical about an usher who works at a Broadway theater. In a series of songs spurned on by his intrusive thoughts, (played by a delightful cast of six) Usher’s creative process is laid bare, and we see the playwright struggling with his identity as a black gay man.  

Ever at odds with his “Internal white girl”, Usher spends his life stuck ruminating on his relationship with his parents, his sexuality, his gender, his race and his place in the world. In cleverly written, but firmly R-rated songs, we learn about his troubled relationship with his unintentionally cruel parents and his discomfort in his own skin.

John-Payne, Michael Turrentine, Eddie Weaver, Mattheus Barbee and Christopher Wayland. Photo by Joe Mazza / Brave Lux.

Weaver’s voice and sheer vulnerability as a performer make this 95 minute show a highly concentrated emotional experience. Usher’s internal monologue is brought to life by a wildly talented ensemble of six with character names like “Thought 1” and “Though 2” played by Micah Mixon, Matheus Barbee, Christopher Wayland, Michael Turrentine, John-Payne and Naphtali Curry.

“A Strange Loop” is a show that plays against the norms of traditional musical theatre in almost every aspect, yet it borrows so effortlessly from a lot of what likely inspired Michael R. Johnson. Instead of being driven by plot, Johnson goes full meta with a concept musical like “Company” meets “for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf” but with the playfulness of “Rent”. Each song is an exploration of a life that files down to a heartbreaking raw nerve.

This show never wallows in sadness though. As is often the case, comedians mask a great deal of pain. Johnson plays up the surreal absurdity of Usher’s life. In one song alone the audience is clapping along to a church choir beautifully belting “AIDS is God’s punishment!” all the while Usher is grappling with the trauma of being raised in a strict religion that his parents still belong to. This show is dark comedy about a man finding acceptance with himself, which is highly relatable for those who chronically overthink.

There’s something really special happening in this production. This cast fills the theater to the rafters with soaring vocals and brings the house down with roaring laughter. Michael Turrentine plays Usher’s mother in a way that anybody with a mother can chuckle at. His performance taps into a near constant sense of energy that make “A Strange Loop” highly satisfying to watch and listen to. You’ll be singing some of the unsettling lyrics right out the door.

Now through November 22 at Raven Theatre. 6157 N. Clark Street. 773-338-2177.

https://www.raventheatre.com/stage/astrangeloop/

Kimberly Dixon-Mays’ debut play Rabbits In Their Pockets, developed in the Lifeline BIPOC 2024 Workshop and now receiving a world premiere under the direction of Christopher Wayland, is a bold but uneven first effort. The play aspires to braid together family drama, Black folklore, and speculative Afrofuturism, but its script often buckles under its own ambition. Fortunately, Wayland’s staging and the committed, charismatic performances of his cast keep the production afloat, offering the audience enough vitality and resonance to stay engaged.

At the heart of the play are two sisters facing grief and legacy. Ash (Lakecia Harris), the elder, is a methodical aerospace engineer who believes joy can be engineered, even embedded into the walls of their late father’s home. Harley (Simmery Branch), younger, mercurial, and endlessly playful, sees improv as a distinctly Black technology—an art of survival through adaptability and wit. Together they clash over what to do with the family house: sell it, reinvent it, or transform it into something larger than themselves. Along the way, they are joined by Jasper (Marcus D. Moore), a friend and aspiring performer, and Inola (Felisha McNeal), an enigmatic elder who oscillates between investor, trickster, and perhaps even ancestor.

The script brims with ideas—sometimes too many for its own good. Dixon-Mays clearly has a fertile imagination and a keen sense of cultural inheritance. Br’er Rabbit folktales and the language of improvisation surface as recurring motifs, meant to show how Black families survive through cunning, resilience, and creativity. But rather than letting these motifs emerge organically, the dialogue often pauses to explain them at length. Ash’s “joy technology” speeches are dense with jargon, and Harley repeats her philosophy of improv as survival until the point is belabored. What should be vibrant metaphors instead risk feeling like lectures.

The dramatic stakes are also uneven. The decision to sell or keep the house is meant to stand in for deeper questions of legacy, cultural continuity, and grief. Yet too often the debate feels abstract, more a clash of ideas than a struggle rooted in palpable necessity. What happens if they don’t sell? If Ash’s joy system fails? If Harley’s dream fizzles? The play gestures toward these consequences without fully realizing them, softening the urgency.

Some characters suffer from this imbalance. Jasper, despite Marcus D. Moore’s affable performance, fades into the background as the sisters’ conflict escalates. Inola, wonderfully embodied by Felisha McNeal, is fascinating but underdefined: sometimes elder, sometimes ancestor, sometimes entrepreneur. This ambiguity could be powerful if sharpened, but as written, it feels more inconsistent than intentional.

Where Dixon-Mays overreaches, Christopher Wayland’s direction provides clarity. He keeps the pacing brisk, shapes the tonal shifts with care, and leans into the play’s improvisational spirit without letting it sprawl.

The performances are this production’s saving grace. Lakecia Harris gives Ash a flinty discipline that gradually reveals a woman undone by grief. Simmery Branch lights up the stage as Harley, balancing mischievous humor with aching vulnerability. Marcus D. Moore mines Jasper for humor and pathos, especially in his monologue about being both celebrated and consumed as a “rabbit.” And McNeal, magnetic and sly, grounds the play’s slipperiest role with commanding presence.

Rabbits In Their Pockets is not yet a fully realized play—it is a workshop bursting with possibility, weighed down by over-explanation and underdeveloped stakes. Yet as a debut, it reveals Dixon-Mays as a writer unafraid to ask large questions about joy, memory, and cultural survival. Thanks to Wayland’s sharp direction and the cast’s deeply felt performances, audiences can glimpse the vibrant play struggling to emerge.

Recommended

When: Through October 5

Where: Lifeline Theatre,  6912 N. Glenwood

Running time: 90 minutes

Tickets: $25 - $45 at

773-761-4477 and www.lifelinetheatre.com