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Dark comedies built around relationship dynamics have always drawn me in because they reveal conflict with a kind of honesty that feels both familiar and unpredictable. When couples clash, the humor isn’t just situational; it’s rooted in history, habit, and the tiny emotional landmines only long-term partners know how to trigger. Fault fits squarely into that tradition, taking the everyday rhythms of a long marriage and pushing them just far enough to expose the raw, funny, and uncomfortable truths beneath the surface. That blend of recognition and surprise is exactly what makes this kind of comedy so compelling, and why Fault lands with such a specific charge.
That sense of intimate volatility is exactly what Jason Alexander explores in his return to Chicago Shakespeare Theater. With Fault, he brings the sharp directorial instinct he showed in his earlier CST production Judgment Day and applies it to a far more contained emotional landscape. In this world premiere written by Scooter Pietsch, he shapes the play’s tightening grid of tension and moral uncertainty with a touch that feels both precise and unexpectedly humane. The result is a tightly focused piece driven by tension that sparks almost instantly - less an explosive outburst than a controlled shift in the room - with the personal fractures between the characters steering the story toward its breaking point.

Pictured are Enrico Colantoni (Jerry), Playwright Scooter Pietsch, Rebecca Spence (Lucy), Nick Marini (Shaun), and Director Jason Alexander. April 18– May 24, 2026, in The Yard at Chicago Shakespeare. Photo by Justin Barbin.
In Fault, the night detonates the moment Jerry Green walks in expecting to celebrate a career defining merger and instead finds his wife, Lucy, in an intimate moment with a young man she has just met, Shaun. What could have ended in a single, stunned confrontation instead becomes the spark for a long, spiraling night in which no one is allowed to leave, and nothing stays contained. The shock of the discovery quickly gives way to a volatile mix of accusations, shifting alliances, and long suppressed grievances, turning their home into a closed-door standoff where every truth feels like a trap and every explanation opens a deeper wound. Jerry and Lucy have long operated as a high functioning power couple, relying on professional unity to keep their marriage steady; once that balance collapses, the cracks at home widen just as quickly. It is interesting that Pietsch also underscores the irony that Jerry’s career‑defining merger has just made the couple newly minted billionaires after a long string of failures, and yet - proving that all the money in the world can’t change some people - they still behave like high‑achieving narcissists, turning their blame and abuse on each other and on the young stranger they’ve invited into their lavish home.
As the hours stretch on, the situation tilts from chaotic to revealing, exposing the fractures that have been quietly shaping this marriage for decades. Jerry’s need for control, Lucy’s hunger for something unspoken, and Shaun’s unexpected presence collide in ways that force each of them to confront what they’ve been avoiding. What begins as a moment of betrayal becomes a full-scale excavation of loyalty, resentment, and the stories couples tell themselves to stay intact. The play’s dark humor emerges from this escalating tension - how quickly a single mistake can unravel a life, and how a marriage can be tested most brutally not by the act itself, but by everything it brings to the surface. And just to remind you, this is a comedy - and a hilarious one at that.
Jerry even admits at one point that arguments never really have winners, a truth he delivers with the weary certainty of someone who has spent years circling the same conversational battlegrounds. Yet the play understands something deeper and more uncomfortable: that couples can become strangely addicted to the very banter that exhausts them. The back‑and‑forth may bruise, but it also affirms a shared language, a familiar rhythm, a way of feeling alive inside a relationship that has otherwise gone quiet. In Fault, that warped need becomes both a source of comedy and a mirror held up to the audience, revealing how easily love and combat can blur when two people know each other too well.
For all its blistering comedy, Fault is threaded with the quieter, more unsettling realizations that come with aging - what it means to feel your desirability slipping, to lose track of the person you married, or to crave the parts of yourself you fear have vanished. The betrayals at the center of the play aren’t just about infidelity; they’re about the desperate need to feel seen, wanted, and alive again. Beneath the chaos and sharp-edged humor runs a steady pulse of vulnerability, as each character confronts the version of themselves they’ve been avoiding. And just when the night seems like it can’t twist any further, the play barrels into a smash bang ending that lands with real force - the kind that sends audiences out buzzing, debating, and replaying the final moments long after the curtain comes down.

Presenting the world premiere dark comedy Fault, by Scooter Pietsch and directed by Jason Alexander. Featuring Enrico Colantoni (Jerry) and Nick Marini (Shaun). Photo by Justin Barbin.
The cast of Fault features three principal performers, each driving a different charge in the play’s volatile, rapidly escalating night. Enrico Colantoni gives Jerry Green a grounded, lived in presence, letting decades of pent up frustration surface through tightly controlled physical choices and a dry comic timing that makes his smallest shifts register. Opposite him, Chicago favorite Rebecca Spence shapes Lucy Green with a blend of wit, restraint, and emotional clarity; her sharp physical beats and instinctive timing keep each exchange taut while still allowing the humor to flicker through. Shaun, whose chance encounter with Lucy at the bar leads him into the Green household, played by Nick Marini, adds a destabilizing charge to the night, using quick, reactive movement and an agile sense of timing to tilt the dynamic just enough to expose the deeper fractures beneath the couple’s carefully maintained surface.
Their combined work is strengthened by the breadth of experience each actor brings to the stage. Colantoni’s long career in film and television, including standout turns in Veronica Mars and Galaxy Quest, gives his performance a steady, lived in weight. Spence, a Chicago mainstay with a Jeff Award and recent visibility in The Madison, brings sharp focus and emotional clarity to Lucy. Marini adds a younger charge to the trio, drawing on credits like Cobra Kai and Dropout TV to shape a presence that subtly disrupts the relationship dynamic.
The action unfolds inside a tastefully appointed luxury home crafted by scenic designer Paul Tate DePoo III, who gives the Greens a space that gleams with success without ever feeling sterile. A streamlined bar sits at the rear of the room, and the warm finishes, refined furnishings, and subtle touches make the environment inviting rather than ostentatious - a polished retreat that still feels lived in. It’s the kind of setting that should radiate comfort and control, yet under Alexander’s direction it gradually sharpens, its clean lines and curated surfaces taking on a quiet tension as the night begins to break down.
Alexander’s own trajectory mirrors that same level of craft, extending far beyond the stage. Although Jason Alexander is widely known for his television work on Seinfeld and film roles ranging from Pretty Woman to Shallow Hal, he brings none of that celebrity shorthand to Fault. Instead, his decades in front of the camera seem to refine his instincts behind the table. His sense of timing, character shaping, and emotional pacing reflect the precision of someone who has lived inside stories of every scale. It’s a résumé that could easily overshadow a production, yet here it deepens his approach, grounding the play’s volatility in choices that feel thoughtful rather than showy.
Running just ninety minutes without an intermission, Fault maintains a tight, steady pulse that matches the tightening chamber of its late-night unraveling. Chicago Shakespeare Theater presents the world premiere through May 26, offering audiences a sharply observed look at a marriage pushed past its breaking point. What stays with you isn’t only the tension or the humor, but the clarity of the production itself, which recognizes how a single, seismic domestic shift can rattle everything a couple has built, sending shockwaves through a foundation that once seemed unshakeable.
Highly recommended.
For tickets and/or more show information, click here.
This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.
The Chicago theater community is grappling with the sudden loss of Matt DeCaro, whose death early Saturday came as a shock to colleagues and audiences alike. A cause of death has not been made public. Only hours before, he had taken the stage at the Goodman Theatre, performing the role of Sturdyvant in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom during Friday night’s show. His unexpected passing led to the cancellation of Saturday’s matinee, while the evening performance moved forward as a tribute to his decades of work and the impact he left on the city’s artistic landscape.
DeCaro’s career stretched across more than four decades and reached nearly every major stage in Chicago. His long association with the Goodman Theatre included roles in Heartbreak House, The White Snake, The Cherry Orchard, Night of the Iguana, Boy Gets Girl, Camino Real, Romance, Richard II, Spinning into Butter, and The Play About the Baby. He moved fluidly between companies and styles, portraying Winston Churchill in Drury Lane’s The Audience, stepping into Doc’s role in Marriott Theatre’s West Side Story, and earning a Jeff Award for his performance in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. His work extended across the region as well, with appearances at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, Victory Gardens, Licoln Center, the Guthrie, and Asolo Rep. Beyond his extensive Goodman history, DeCaro built a substantial body of work across the city, including a standout turn in Steppenwolf’s Men of Tortuga - recognized by the Chicago Tribune as one of 2005’s most memorable performances - and a role in Victory Gardens’ Symmetry, further underscoring his versatility and command as a character actor.
His screen résumé was equally wide-ranging, with roles in Prison Break, The Office, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Chicago P.D., ER, U.S. Marshals, and Richie Rich. Yet for many, it was his presence on Chicago stages that defined him - steady, generous, and deeply rooted in the craft. Among the roles that left a lasting mark on those who followed his work, DeCaro’s Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at Drury Lane stands out as a personal favorite. The mix of authority and raw vulnerability he brought to the character made the performance unforgettable - the kind that lingers in your mind long after the production has ended.
As tributes continue to emerge, the sense of loss is felt not only by those who worked beside him, but by audiences who witnessed his final performance just one night before his passing - a testament to how fully he remained devoted to the work until the very end.
In losing Matt DeCaro, Chicago loses one of the quiet forces that helped shape its stages for decades. His work was never about spotlight or spectacle - it was about craft, commitment, and the kind of presence that made every production stronger simply because he was in it. Even as the community mourns, the stories he told and the characters he embodied continue to resonate, a lasting reminder of an artist who gave everything he had to the world he loved.
As I entered the black box studio at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, I’ll admit - I wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Before leaving home, I’d watched the news: the endless cycle of violence, bombings, and that tired “us versus them” narrative that seems to define our moment. My spirit felt worn down. On top of that, I had spent the day finishing a review from earlier in the week, so I arrived more drained than inspired. Theatre, on this night, felt like an obligation.
Then Mrs. Krishnan’s Party happened - and everything shifted.
Instead of the usual routine of being guided to my seat by The Saints, I was greeted at the door by James (Justin Rogers), dressed in an outfit that immediately caught my attention. He asked my name. We talked. It wasn’t forced or performative - it was genuinely human. By the time he led me to my seat, the invisible barrier between audience and performer had already begun to dissolve. He introduced me to the people around me: to my left, a well-traveled gentleman from Ohio by way of India; to my right, a mother and daughter who helped identify James’s attire as a South Indian costume, rich with cultural specificity. Already, I wasn’t just watching a show - I was part of a group.
That’s when I realized we were not simply audience members, but guests of James, who was hosting a surprise party for his landlady. The occasion is Onam - a vibrant harvest celebration rooted in the southern Indian state of Kerala. What unfolds is not just theatre, but an act of radical hospitality. Music pulses. Conversations bloom. Strangers become co-conspirators in joy. This show is more than immersive - it is enveloping, dissolving the line between performer and audience until you’re no longer watching a story, you’re living inside it.
This approach is the hallmark of Indian Ink Theatre Company, the New Zealand-based ensemble behind the production. Founded by Justin Lewis and Jacob Rajan in the late 1990s, the company has earned an international reputation for creating intimate, actor-driven works that blend South Asian storytelling traditions with contemporary theatre. Their work explores identity, migration, and cultural hybridity through a deeply human - and often humorous - lens. More than anything, they prioritize connection: their productions don’t just tell stories; they build shared experiences.
And that’s what undid me.

Photo courtesy of Indian Ink Theatre Company.
When Mrs. Krishnan (Kalyani Nagarajan) finally arrives, she is startled to find the back of her small shop filled with strangers. There’s hesitation - this wasn’t her plan - and beneath it, something heavier lingers. As the evening unfolds, we begin to feel the weight she carries: the loss of her husband, the quiet ache of a son - an architect - now gone. These moments settle into the space with a tender gravity, reminding us that her warmth is hard-earned.
And yet, just as the story begins to lean into that sorrow, the play grabs and lifts us again. Laughter breaks through, balloons appear. Music returns. The room brightens. What begins as disruption transforms into delight as she embraces the gathering and, in a gesture both intimate and communal, decides to cook daal for all of us. In that moment, grief and joy exist side by side—each making space for the other.
Somewhere between the laughter, the dancing, and the smell of daal, the heaviness I carried into the theatre dissolved. Not in a naïve or escapist way, but in a way that felt necessary. Soundly directed by Justin Lewis, the show doesn’t ignore the fractured world outside; it quietly insists on another possibility within it: community, warmth, shared humanity.
By the end of the evening, I realized I hadn’t just watched a play - I had been in community with people different than me, yet deeply the same. In a time when division dominates the headlines, Mrs. Krishnan’s Party offers something deceptively simple and profoundly radical: a room full of strangers choosing, for a moment, to be together.
And that, right now, feels like everything.
Recommended
When: Through May 3rd
Where: Chicago Shakespeare Theatre 800 East Grand Avenue in Chicago.
Tickets: $74 - $90
Box Office: 312.595.5600
Info: www.chicagoshakespeare.com
This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.
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“Hamnet,” a stage play adapted by Lolita Chakrabati (known for Life of PI and Red Velvet), and directed by Erica Whyman is in its U.S. debut at Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier. This production originated and performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company for its U.S. tour, has generated a lot of excitement, heightened further by the many Oscar nominations for a film by the same title, though it is a very different adaptation of the same book.
Both were drawn from Maggie O’Farrell’s best-selling novel “Hamnet: A Novel of the Plague” speculating on the life of William Shakespeare and his wife and family. The story line delves into the family life of the couple, the first act devoted to William and Agne’s birth families and their love affair and eventual marriage.
The second half revolves around their children, and traces Shakespeare’s ascendancy into the upper echelons of English theater. He draws the attention of the queen, is celebrated on the stage in London for his prolific stage works and his published poetry.
We meet actors Burbage and Kempe. Bert Seymour and Nigel Barrett, who play other roles too, are excellent as the real historic actors who were the definitive contemporary interpreters of Shakespeare’s scripts on stage. (Chicagoans who saw “The Book of Will" had a thorough introduction in that rendering of the development of the First Folio in the years following Shakespeare’s death.)
At “Hamnet” on Navy Pier, though, there are a few problems with the production that detract from the interesting story. Like “Shakespeare in Love,” which generated a fictional hypothesis about a love affair that inspired the Bard to pen “Romeo and Juliet,” in “Hamnet” it is the death of Shakespeare’s son, Hamnet, that is posited to have fed the emotional plane of “Hamlet.” And that is an intriguing theory, drawn from the book.

Saffron Dey as Judith and Ajani Cabey as Hamnet
“Hamnet” dutifully recounts the marriage of Agnes (she is generally known to us as Anne but historically she was Agnes) and William, she 26 and pregnant, and he just 18. The first child Susanna (Ave Hinds-Jones) was born a few months later, and a few years hence twins—Judith (Saffron Day) and Hamnet (Ajani Cabey)— sprang forth. Historically Hamnet died in 1596; four years later “Hamlet” hits the stage.
The book and play adjust this time frame, to have Shakespeare at work on the debut of “Hamlet” as his son contracts an illness and dies. That’s reasonable creative license, especially in the interest of drama. (Harper's Magazine offers an excellent contrast of the history as it's adapted for "Hamnet.") And the performances are quite excellent. Agnes (Kemi-Bo Jacobs) gives us an intense performance of a character devised to explain her genius husband’s attraction, and perhaps his inspiration by her. William (Rory Alexander is excellent throughout), though the script forces an unlikely maturity at just 18 as he coaches and counsels Agnes toward their marital fate.
What was jarring was the fact that all the actors wear microphones, with a uniformity of volume set by the mixing board, presumably, that is unnatural, especially for Shakespeare. The unfortunate effect was an echo chamber, in Chicago Shakespeare's handsome The Yard which simulates the interior of the original Globe. Also two screens at either side of the stage provided subtitles, which are quickly explained by the diversity of English dialects used by the actors. Some would be unintelligible to American ears without them—but I found myself reading, at the expense of watching the action center stage. Perhaps supratitles as used in opera would have been better.
And it’s probably necessary to comment on the incidental and transitional music, composed by Oğuz Kaplangi. Some pieces were quite lovely, evocations of the late 16th century. But fast-paced scene change music, sometimes with a Latin beat, was overbearing, and the percussion especially excessive. Was it compensating for the slow pace of what was on stage?
And for a play about Shakespeare, why did we hear so little from the subject's original work? The excellence of “Shakespeare in Love” was the celebration and display of many slices from his actual writing that advanced the case for its explanation of the origins of “Romeo & Juliet.” In this Royal Shakespeare company’s “Hamnet,” we’re given just a tiny bit at the end, as Agnes witnesses the play for the first time, a scene meant to tie up and resolve all the loose ends. They loved this in London’s West End, but in Chicago it's just not enough. See if you agree. “Hamnet” runs through March 8 at Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier.
This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.
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"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
Lou (Cher Álvarez) and James (Patrick Heusinger) are in their bedroom. They are so focused on each other that they don’t notice the flashing light in the bedroom down the hall. The catch? Lou and James are the only ones in the house. So that leaves the question – who is controlling the flashing lights?
Many of us are familiar with this moment in a horror film. The first scare is crucial and sets us up for what we are about to experience. We may not know exactly what is happening, but we do know that this simple game with the lights suggests that all is not quite normal in this house. Lou and James are not alone, and whether or not we are ready, we are soon going to learn what is keeping them company.
However, this is not a film. This is a horror play, and while the moment provides a similar purpose, you might find that the experience is quite different. Gasps could be heard across the house at this particular performance. Looking around, folks were pointing to fellow audience members – making sure that they too took in the flashing lights. Whispers could be heard, and suddenly, it felt like we were part of the performance. As the scares grew over the course of the piece, reactions only intensified. Audience members shouted, screamed, and even at times tried to warn the characters of what they were clearly missing. Director Felix Barrett and his design team skillfully create what might feel like an immersive experience. As the tension on stage grew, I personally could feel the same happening to the audience surrounding me. To put it simply – we were hooked, and there was no escape until we finally got our answers.
Writing by Levi Holloway, Paranormal Activity follows married couple James and Lou who move from Chicago to London to escape their dark past. We slowly learn that their previous home was haunted, and they assumed that a full ocean could make that go away. However, they soon discover that it’s not always a place that is haunted. Sometimes it’s people, and whether or not they are ready, it’s time to confront their past before it’s too late.
That which truly pushes the experience over the top is the work of Illusions Designer Chris Fisher – along with the collaboration of Associate Illusions Designer Daniel Weissglass and Illusions Consultant Skylar Fox. The stage magic is often hard to grasp with how authentic it feels, and you may find yourself wondering if you even believe what is in front of you – much like the characters on stage.
We witness the couple at the center slowly unravel – particularly James. As with so many horror stories, he begins as a non-believer. As the ghostly interactions become harsher and harder to avoid, we see him question everything he ever knew. Both Álvarez and Heusinger perform quite a feat. As we witness their marriage completely fall apart at the mercy of the hauntings, you might find yourself feeling sorry for the genuine relationship they so clearly set up at the beginning.
With haunting stage magic and a story that takes no prisoners, Paranormal Activity is not just a play – this is an event. Fans of the horror genre will not be disappointed. This is an experience that keeps you guessing from the moment the curtain rises to the last glimmer of light at its conclusion.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
Run Time: 2 hours, with intermission
Paranormal Activity runs through November 2 at Chicago Shakespeare Theater – 800 E. Grand Avenue.
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