Displaying items by tag: Mi Kang

There is something almost perversely apt about staging Miss Julie inside a birdcage.

Under the direction of Gabrielle Randle-Bent, August Strindberg’s most celebrated chamber play, Miss Julie—an autopsy of class warfare disguised as seduction—arrives at Court Theatre in a production as conceptually bold as it is frustratingly self-defeating. Scenic designer John Culbert places the entire action within a giant birdcage veiled in scrim. The metaphor is unmistakable: these three characters are trapped—by class, by gender, by desire, by the invisible architecture of hierarchy. Within this enclosure they circle one another warily, predator and prey trading positions until collision becomes combustion.

And yet, the scrim that literalizes Strindberg’s thesis also undermines the very essence of chamber drama.

Chamber plays depend on proximity. They require that we see the flicker of doubt before it becomes cruelty, the calculation before it becomes command. The scrim, however gauzy, creates a barrier. We are not fully privy to the faces or the minute mental machinations of the actors. Instead of sitting in the kitchen with them, breathing the same charged air, we observe as though through glass. The concept imprisons not only the characters but the audience.

Still, the performances press fiercely against those confines.

Mi Kang’s Miss Julie is volatile and wounded, her aristocratic arrogance masking a desperate hunger for annihilation. She plays Julie not as a naïve romantic but as a woman testing the edges of her own destruction. Kelvin Roston Jr.’s Jean is taut with ambition. His Jean calculates even while seducing; every flirtation carries the weight of social ascent. The push and pull between Kang and Roston Jr. has genuine danger, their exchanges tightening like wire.

Rebecca Spence’s Kristine, meanwhile, anchors the production with moral steadiness. Kristine is the quiet witness to the carnage—a woman whose survival depends on understanding the rules rather than challenging them.

Kelvin Roston Jr. and Mi Kang in Miss Julie at Court Theatre.

The uncredited score becomes an unexpected fourth character. It begins with what sounds like a restrained string quartet—orderly, almost classical—before devolving into ear-piercing, disconnected, harsh chords. The progression feels deliberate: a descent into madness mirroring Julie’s psychological unraveling. It is invasive, unsettling, and impossible to ignore.

Raquel Adorno’s costumes subtly delineate class distinctions without ostentation. Fabric and silhouette do the quiet work of social architecture. No detail feels accidental.

This may well be Strindberg’s season in Chicago. Across town, Steppenwolf Theatre Company is mounting The Dance of Death, another of the playwright’s bruising dissections of intimacy and entrapment. That two major companies are wrestling simultaneously with Strindberg’s merciless worldview suggests a cultural appetite for dramas in which love is war and escape is illusion.

Court Theatre’s Miss Julie, guided by Gabrielle Randle-Bent’s disciplined direction, understands that these characters are caged long before the lights rise. The tragedy is that the scrim—meant to emphasize their confinement—keeps us from fully experiencing the suffocating intimacy that makes the play detonate. Strindberg wrote this as chamber music for three instruments. When we cannot quite see the musicians’ fingers on the strings, some of the music is inevitably lost.

Even so, the production lingers. Like the final discordant notes of its score, it vibrates with unease long after the cage goes dark.

RECOMMENDED

When: through March 8th

Where: Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis Ave.

Running time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets: $60 - $90.00 Student, Group and military discounts available

773-753-4472

www.courttheatre.org

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

"The course of true love never did run smooth." No, wait, that’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream

"I do desire we may be better strangers." Mmmm … closer, but this one’s As You Like It

" Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage".  A worthy sentiment, but it appeared in Twelfth Night, not …

“Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” Aha! There we go … Benedick says this to Beatrice during one of their incessant arguments in MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. And if you don’t believe me, you can hear it yourself at Chicago Shakespeare Theater – and I very highly recommend you do just that! And don’t dawdle – when I was there last Sunday it was sold out.

A quick-and-dirty rundown of the story:  the beautiful Hero (Mi Kang) has just fallen ass-over-teakettle in love with the courageous young soldier Claudio (Samuel B. Jackson), who reciprocates immediately and enthusiastically. Accompanying Claudio is his senior military officer, Hero’s father Don Pedro (Debo Balogun); also aristocratic soldier and avowed bachelor Benedick (Mark Bedard). Benedick is an Old Family Friend who’s maintained a long-standing verbal battle with Hero’s shrewish [get it? shrewish? nod, nod, wink, wink] cousin Beatrice (Deborah Hay). There’s no questioning the authenticity of their dissension, but from the outset we sense the infatuation lurking just under their squabbles and know that this will be mined for all its chucklesome gold. After all, the most perennial subject of comedy is love, as the Bard knew very well.

Tom Piper does a fabulous job with the set, creating an ethereal fantasy world in the beautiful courtyard of nobleman Leonato (Kevin Gudahl). Lavish garlands festoon balconies and arches, defining the ambience without distracting from the action. A tree stands prominently at stage left and comes into frequent use; there’s even a swing! Several characters have occasion to hide behind its trunk and even up in its branches (clearly a very sturdy piece, that tree). Piper’s choice to design costumes in contemporary style provides another discordance to mirror the ever-present yet ever-changing infighting among the characters.

British actress Selina Cadell directs, exhibiting her long experience with and conspicuous mastery of both Shakespeare and comedy. The story is told cleanly; the pacing is perfect and miraculously the cast has thoroughly conquered iambic pentameter – though a screen displayed open captioning I didn’t need it – every line is intelligible.

The characters interact with the audience throughout. Realism is interchanged with physical comedy, as when Hay ‘hides’ within the audience by shielding her face with a program (and helping herself to her seat-neighbor’s drink!), and Bedard vows ‘I will live a bachelor’ to a member of the audience, shaking his hand on it. Though this physical contact with the characters was limited to the fortunate attenders in front-row seats, the cast regularly invited collusion from the audience as a whole. At one point they convince the audience is to join them in singing ‘hey, nonny’ and there were amazingly few holdouts. I almost never sing along but I did this time!

Bob Mason built a remarkably diverse cast. Between Debo Balogun as Don Pedro, Samuel B. Jackson playing Claudio and Jaylon Muchison taking several comic roles, this production is an excellent showcase for the Black male actors in Chicago.  

Traditionally Shakespeare’s romantic dyads are played by blooming fledgling players –cute kids. Mason choosing fully grown Bedard and Hay as Beatrice and Benedick deepens everyone’s experience. It’s unfair to ask adolescents – kids! – no matter how talented, to develop characters as complex as Hamlet, and inexperienced comediennes fall too easily into Three Stooges-ish slapstick.

It requires a woman well past menarche to fathom Beatrice’s temperament. She’s not so much choosing between different men as she is wondering aloud whether she needs a man at all. She pretty much decides ‘not’, a decision that the majority of modern women can at least understand, if not agree with. A woman must have traversed the estrogen-saturated third and fourth decades of life before she can begin to discern what an equal relationship is, let alone how to construct one.   Beatrice trusts that Benedick will help ease her pain, but it takes a terrific actor to convince the audience to trust him. Benedick in turn must check his Italianate machismo at the door and demonstrate his own vulnerability, not only to Beatrice but to a house full of cynical, overeducated twenty-first century women. Luckily these two actors are exceptionally skilled.

Act Two is markedly darker: Don Pedro’s illegitimate brother Don John (Erik Hellman) is a fellow with an axe to grind. Why? Maybe because he’s illegitimate, a motive as common as it is irrational; any road, his motives are unimportant to the basic story. Suffice to say he has it in for his legit sibling and maliciously chooses to attack him through young Hero. He plots with Borachio (Yona Moises Olivares) and Conrade (Colin Huerta) to disseminate a false story that Hero has been unfaithful to her fiancé Claudio, who’s unfortunately a gullible twit and falls for these unsubstantiated rumors.  

Fortunately, Hero’s suffering is (at least partially) balanced by the clodhopping Dogberry dropping one hilarious malapropism after another. I always have one favorite character (yeah, I’m a bad mom) and in this piece my pick of the litter is Dogberry, particularly as so wonderfully played by Sean Fortunato. Fortunato’s long face and longer body seem custom-designed for the rollicking physical comedy of this wonderful role (though actually he has a phenomenal range). Dogberry’s performance was enhanced by the antics of his constable Verges (Jaylon Muchison), who literally and hilariously dogs Dogberry’s footsteps, resulting in several collisions.

We all know a Dogberry – the nincompoop who sucks up with highfalutin’ speeches that lavishly display he has no clue what the hell he’s talking about. I can’t resist including a quote (no spoiler, promise!) from Dogberry’s account to his boss: “Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.” You have to pay attention though, as many of his drollest maxims are far briefer.

Unexpected but welcome was original music composed by Eliza Thompson, with cast members playing accordion, saxophone, drum, flute, banjo, and guitar. Sound designer Nicholas Pope used excerpts of Thompson’s score to indicate the passage of time between scenes, with lighting refinements imbued with the prevailing comedic zeitgeist – though how one makes lighting funny is a mystery to me. Fortunately, light designer Jason Lynch knows how.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING is the original romcom and this production channels the spirit of the classic 1940s romantic comedies. Rosalind Russell / Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn / Spencer Tracy stem from Beatrice and Benedict as directly as the Sharks and the Jets are drawn from the Capulets and Montagues. The characters and their adventures are, after all, timeless. With uncanny prescience MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING examines major twenty-first century courtship issues: the disproportionate consequences for women, differentiating between humor and ardor, finding balance in inherently unbalanced relationships, even cyber-bullying! I’m not a Shakespeare scholar but I’m willing to bet the man never so much as sent a text message.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING is arguably Shakespeare’s best comedy, and Chicago Shakespeare Theatre delivers just that, secured by the warmth, maturity and phenomenal talent of the cast. It’s good solid unadulterated Shakespeare and, though the physical comedy is uproarious, the shenanigans never overshadow the linguistic magnetism. This production of MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING is totally irresistible!

VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Running until December 11 at Chicago Shakespeare Theater 800 East Grand Avenue Chicago

“It takes a smart fellow to say he doesn’t know the answer”

Attorney Henry Drummond- 'Inherit the Wind'

The Goodman Theatre's production of "Inherit the Wind," written by the same duo who brought us "Auntie Mame" (Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee), expertly directed by Henry Godinez, offers a powerful and thought-provoking exploration of the clash between religion and science.

National figures Clarence Darrow, a civil liberties attorney and founder of the ACLU, and William Jennings Bryan, a fundamentalist Christian and populist three-time Democratic Presidential candidate, argued the famous Scopes “Monkey” Trial in 1925. 

This fictionalized account, a  legal battle over the teaching of evolution in American public schools, remains as relevant today as when the trial happened  in 1925. It reflects the ongoing "culture wars" playing out today, particularly around education. The play's trial centers on the right to teach evolution, a debate that has echoed into modern fights over what can and should be taught in American schools.

In 2024, school boards and state legislatures are hotbeds of conflict, with debates over the teaching of history, race, gender, and even basic scientific principles. Across the country, there are movements to ban books, restrict what educators can discuss, and roll back curriculums deemed "woke" or politically incorrect. The themes of "Inherit the Wind" – the right to free thought, academic freedom, and the importance of challenging societal norms – feel eerily timely as education becomes a battleground in this year's election.

Alexander Gemignani delivers a tour-de-force performance as Matthew Harrison Brady, the charismatic and deeply religious prosecutor. Gemignani captures Brady's unwavering faith and his conviction that the Bible is the ultimate source of truth. His portrayal is not simply a blowhard preacher clinging to outdated values, but a man genuinely trying to protect his worldview in a rapidly changing society. His performance is both commanding and sympathetic, allowing audiences to understand the man's genuine belief in his cause.

Harry Lennix, as the defense attorney Henry Drummond, is equally impressive. Lennix portrays Drummond as a complex figure, a man who values both reason and compassion. His performance is marked by intelligence, wit, and a deep respect for the law. Lennix's Drummond becomes more than a  cynical intellectual—he is a defender of the individual’s right to think, to question, and to change. In Lennix’s hands  Drummond is a compelling character who challenges audiences to consider the importance of critical thinking and the dangers of censorship, a joy to watch.

The supporting cast is exceptional. Mi Kang delivers a memorable performance as E.K. Hornbeck, a cynical and opportunistic reporter who views the trial as nothing more than a spectacle. Christopher Llewyn Ramirez is heartbreaking as Bertram Cates, the young schoolteacher at the center of a national controversy. Robert Schleifer is poignant as Meeker, a deaf actor who was truly engaging, and Presley Rose Jones is charming and insightful as Melinda, a young woman who falls in love with Cates. The contemporary casting choices make this production particularly moving.

Collette Pollard's set design is a marvel. The set, a myopic bird’s eye view of a small town, a place where everyone knows everyone else and where secrets are hard to keep. Pollard's use of perspective creates a sense of claustrophobia, suggesting that the characters are trapped in a world that is both familiar and stifling. The floor of the courtroom suggesting  uniformity and order

In many ways, Inherit the Wind is a powerful allegory for the struggles America faces in 2024. As the nation heads into a pivotal presidential election, the play’s themes of free thought, the conflict between science and belief, and the influence of populism and religion on politics provide a rich framework for understanding the stakes of this moment in history. The questions it raises—about who controls knowledge, who gets to speak, and how we balance faith with reason—are the very questions that are being asked on debate stages and in polling booths across the country today.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: Through Oct. 20

Where: Goodman Theatre 170 N. Dearborn

Tickets: $30 - $45

Infor:.goodmantheatre.org/show/inherit-the-wind/

TimeLine Theatre’s ‘The Chinese Lady’ is a powerful show - poignant, learned, sophisticated - and illuminating. Ninety minutes of engaging drama (no intermission) that left me somewhere between laughing, crying, and standing on my feet to cheer.

Directed by Helen Young from the script by Lloyd Suh (an award-winning playwright now in residence at New York’s New Dramatists) is based on the true story of Afong Moy (Mi Kang gives a stellar performance), brought to New York in 1834 as a living museum exhibit when she was just 14. For 25 cents a ticket, Afung Moy portrayed aspects of life in exotic China: eating a meal with chopsticks, walking in petite slippers covering her tiny bound feet, making tea, and speaking to the audience about life in her homeland. 

As the first Chinese woman to come to the U.S. and American public, we gather from Moy’s presentation that her contractors—New York merchants of Asian imports who are unseen in the play—hoped to inspire an appreciation of China’s culture and people. Her pparents contracted with the merchants for a two-year servitude at the museum. This stretched on for 55 years.

The exhibit space that forms the scenery (Arnell Scanciaco is scenic designer) is built in a Chinese style, and adorned with fine pottery and carvings (Rowen Doe handles properties) the type that merchants would likely have brought from her homeland. 

Afong Moy is assisted in her presentation by Atung (Glenn Obrero is equally excellent in this two-person show). Atung draws the curtain, serves the meal, and fluent in English and Chinese, translates and speaks for her. Over time she gains sufficient fluency to make Atung “superfluous” for speaking to the audience. Their stage personae and their personal relationship forms the structure for the play, and the playwright exploits this expertly.

Because Afong Moy is speaking directly to the ticket holders—that role played by the audience— the fourth wall of the stage is non-existent. We watch the arc of Afong Moy’s acclimation to her new home. When offstage, she lives with an American family and at first expresses disdain for their potatoes and corn, and eating with forks. "Chop sticks are elegant," she says.

We meet her again at age 16, and find Afong Moy is now enjoying American food, and longs to go to San Francisco. Scenes revisit her at various intervals, as she ages, and loses her Cantonese, she forgets what her parents looked like, and question who she is. Over time ticket prices escalate to $15. In adulthood she is invited to the White House by Andrew Jackson. We also see the sweep of history through her eyes: the Opium Wars that led to European domination by decimating Chin with drugs; the construction of the transcontinental railway during the Civil War by Chinese immigrants; and later the rise of anti-immigrant sentiment, and the passage of the Exclusionary Act which in 1882 banned Chinese immigration. 

Secondary themes—the relationship between Atung and Afong Moy in dual planes of unrequited love; Atung and Afong Moy’s growing awareness that they are largely without a life, wearing clothes not their own, speaking words that have been scripted—form existential reveries. They express too the horror of this decadent cultural colonialism. And yet, the indomitability of Afong Moy’s human spirit, her aspirations, are not extinguished. 

‘The Chinese Lady’ runs through June 18 at Theater Wit, 1229 W. Belmont in Chicago. It comes highly recommended.