Displaying items by tag: Terrence McNally

What separates a musical from an opera? Technically an opera is a story in which all the dialogue is exchanged through song. Hence the term rock opera, which describes modern musicals that have little to no spoken dialogue. Such semantics may seem trivial, but as the world moves forward traditional opera must too in order to thrive.

“Dead Man Walking” is by no means a new work, as it had its world premiere at the San Francisco Opera in 1999. It’s composed by Jake Heggie with a book by Tony Award winning playwright Terrence McNally. It is an adaptation of the 1995 film for which Susan Sarandon won an Academy Award for Best Actress. Based on the true story of Sister Helen Prejean’s special relationship with two death row inmates in Louisiana, “Dead Man Walking” is an excellent example of what the future of opera theatre might look like.

“Dead Man Walking” holds its Chicago premiere at the Lyric under the direction of Leonard Foglia. What is immediately striking is a scene of graphic sexual violence right off the bat. A stark departure from the usual 19th Century fantasies normally produced on the Lyric stage. Though the English subtitles are much appreciated, they’re somewhat unnecessary as this opera is sung in English.

Heggie’s music shares a lot in common with traditional musical theatre. The consistent through-line melody “He Will Gather Us Around” will have you humming into intermission and wiping your eyes by the finale. While Heggie’s compositions are quite good, and very cinematic in their aesthetic, it is the deeply humane storyline of condemned prisoner Joseph De Rocher that will hold your attention. McNally does what he does best, sharp dialogue and tight narrative structure.

It’s not often to hear sniffles during the climax of a traditional opera. No matter how arresting the score, or brilliant the performances, classical opera can sometimes create an emotional disconnect. In this work, we see modern day reality and that feels more relatable than say, Wagner. That’s not to say it’s missing the spectacle. As the case with any Lyric production, the staging is epic and visually stunning.

Though most of the cast is making their Lyric debut, they leave a big impression. Joe De Rocher is sung by Ryan McKinny. A booming voice fitting of an unrepentant killer and he’s able to sing opera in a southern accent. Patricia Racette portrays Sister Helen Prejean. It’s her journey we are on. She knows as well as the audience that De Rocher is guilty, but like her, we hold the slimmest hope that maybe he’s innocent. Her unwavering love for De Rocher is his redemption. It’s her power as an actress and a singer to evoke the spirit of forgiveness. Even as McNally’s dialogue is stretched into soaring arias, there’s an authenticity in Racette’s performance.

“Dead Man Walking” achieves what good opera should, and that is to move its audience through the power of music. Theatre, regardless of the type should comment on the world in which we live. While the classics are so for a reason, they’re becoming less of a draw for younger audiences. “Dead Man Walking” proves that opera isn’t a dying art form. It’s an invitation for audiences to have post-show discussions about real world issues.

Through November 22nd at Lyric Opera Chicago. 20 N Wacker Drive. 312-827-5600

Theo Ubique Cabaret Theater has kicked-off the opening of its tailor-built home, with a very good production of The Full Monty – a Broadway musical adapted by Terrence McNally and David Yazbeck from a well-regarded 1997 British film.  The troupe was crammed into the heartland Café and No Exit bar for years before landing at this wonderful space.

Smaller Chicago venues have developed something new in artfully scaling back big Broadway musicals scaled to storefront proportions (for example, this year’s Grand Hotel at Theater Wit). The Full Monty at Theo Ubique is exceptionally fun, partly because of the immersive nature of the new theater.

True to classic cabaret, the performers at Theo Ubique double as servers, waiting on tables and then delivering drinks, even dinner (if per-ordered). The bar is within the theater, and one may watch the show from barstools, around cocktail tables on the floor, or from theater seating on risers up to the back wall. I sat at the bar, a great vantage point for both the band and the stage, and for the bartender (though drinks are served only before after and during intermission.)

That strategy is not only  practical, but it eliminates the fourth wall. The serving aisles double as entryways for actors, who may even deliver lines while sitting next to ticket holders. So, we are in the show, while watching it. So, Five Stars for the theater and its concept. I will definitely do the dinner package when I return.

This version of The Full Monty loses the nuance of the movie, about Yorkshire steelworkers who put on a Chippendales-style strip show to earn bucks to start a new life – aiming to outdo the strippers by taking it all off (“the full Monty”). McNally’s version, set in Buffalo, carries a bit of New York theater world lens which creates characters like the brassy, foul-mouthed piano player Jeanette (though perfectly brought to life by Kate Harris).

The women in these men’s lives are largely supporting characters to their spouses/exes, but when the spotlight hits them, we hear and see real talent: including Molly LeCaptain as Georgie, Dave’s supportive wife; and Anna Dvorchak as Isabel, Jerry’s ex. A standout is young Sean Zielinski as Nathan, Dave’s son, who loans his dad $1,000 to secure the stripping gig.

But the songs by David Yazbek and portraits of these ordinary, gentle American males (they are not Alphas but Betas) - rings largely true especially in the hands of this talented troupe. Matt Frye as Jerry Lukowski is very strong as the mastermind of the scheme for the show. Nick Druzbanski as his best buddy and co-conspirator is great. The men are taught something about stripping by a seriously defined gay professional stripper, Keno (John Cardone).

Another McNally touch is that two of the six males – Malcom (Joe Giovannetti) and Ethan (Neil Stratman) --  come out as a gay couple, but their co-strippers are unfazed. Marc Prince as Horse is without question the best dancer, and brings a vulnerability in his performance as a “big black male” saddled with expectations. As to skin, Horse is the only 10 when it gets down to it, with Malcom and Ethan roughly 7, and the others convincingly ordinary, hairy, married American males.

As for the music, from the first note the seven-piece band led by Jeremy Ramey is polished and pitch perfect – a wonderful footing for the show. And the acting and singing is very good, but it was not so evident opening night due to technical unevenness in the overhead microphone pickups. This resulted in performers being overshadowed by the amplified and mixed instrumentalists. Nevertheless, the acting and singing was really pretty good, and the sound has doubtless been addressed.  

Also noteworthy, the choreography by Sawyer Smith, especially evident in the scene where the men learn to dance by adapting moves by Michael Jordan. That was a truly convincing performance.

Theo Unique Cabaret Theatre is highly recommended. See The Full Monty there through January 27, 2019. www.theo-u.com

Truth should be at the heart of every good drama piece. Truth, honesty, a bit of realism, something that makes the audience connect with the story, or the characters. Terrence McNally's Mothers and Sons playing at Northlight Theatre in Skokie attempts to reach a truthful depth, but leaves audiences shrugging with indifference wondering what exactly to take away from the play.

Nearly twenty years after her son’s AIDS related death, Katharine (Cindy Gold) pays an unexpected visit to the New York apartment of his former partner, Cal (Jeff Parker), who is now married to another man and has a young child. Over the course of the play Katharine and Cal exchange stories, sass, and sarcasm as they awkwardly interact and attempt to reconcile. Katharine remains judgmental and curt throughout her visit to the apartment, portraying the stereotypical conservative, old fashioned, bitter woman well. Cal, on the other hand, attempts to be gracious and overtly friendly in the face of this judgmental woman. Things heat up when we meet Cal’s partner Will (Benjamin Sprunger) and their son Bud (Ben Miller). Katharine’s disdain for the household and the situation is apparent but predictable as are the interactions with the two men. The remainder of the play is both forced and at time self-righteous and does nothing to move the needle on the many themes it attempts to tackle.

At the heart of the play is a conservative, judgmental woman “challenged’ to accept that her son was gay and that a same-sex couple is raising a child. This theme might have been provocative ten years earlier, but now is played out. Mothers and Sons also touches on homosexuality, AIDS, same-sex marriage, same-sex parenting, loss of a child, loss of a husband, and tries its best to address all of them within the 90 minute run time. There are so many themes that we forget that the son was the driving force that brought this woman to this apartment. He is used more as a prop, much like the journal that was hardly mentioned - though we come to find was the reason for Katharine’s visit. What’s more is the themes and how the play chooses to address them are not profound or thought provoking. Nothing is said that the audience doesn’t already know, or even what the characters don’t already know, which borders on the preachy versus clever. And these themes don’t do anything to change the characters or bring them closer together. At one point, Will’s character is so offended that he asks Katharine to leave, though she stays, shares a self-indulgent “woe-is-me” story that highlights her selfishness more, and suddenly Cal is embracing her as if he understands her after all these years. This sentiment is entirely lost on the audience. Will, the character who was ready to throw the woman out, is suddenly calm, cool, and collected. The young boy offers cookies and milk to everyone, refers to this strange woman as grandma and they all sit around and all but sing Kumbaya. And that is where the play ends. 

Isn’t that truth? That in a matter of a single awkward visit, a selfish, self-loathing, gay-hating conservative becomes accepting of gay marriage, same-sex parenting, and her son’s death? And that her son’s former partner who felt the cold sting and shun of this woman would be so moved as to invite her into his home and his family? It isn’t truth. It’s trite and contrived. Call me a cynic, a millennial, jaded, what have you. The truth might be that people like Katharine still exist in the world, but would someone really be swayed in such a short amount of time? Was it out of sheer loneliness on her part and pity on his end that these two characters accepted one another and will move forward? Mothers and Sons did not offer us this depth, so it’s hardly worthy of such deep analysis.

Truthfully, there isn’t much one could take away from Mothers and Sons. You could reach and say it was a profound dialogue about how the definition of family continually changes and evolves. You could speculate that people in mourning can come together to find comfort and support in one another. But Mothers and Sons does nothing to challenge the audience or the characters, or create a worthwhile dialogue in today’s world.

Directed by Steve Scott, Mothers and Sons runs through February 27th. Tickets are available at http://www.northlight.org/.