Displaying items by tag: OIL LAMP THEATER

Next to death and taxes, Chicagoans can count on their favorite theater companies doing holiday shows in the last few weeks of the year. For their part, Glenview’s Oil Lamp Theater presents Joe Landry’s radio play adaptation of It’s a Wonderful Life. With their charming downtown Glenview location, Oil Lamp’s production of It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play feels atmospheric, Glenview is a great stand-in for Bedford Falls.

It’s a Wonderful Life is typically devised as a “live radio play” – meaning, you the audience are watching a cast of actors, playing voice actors, putting on a fictional radio drama broadcast. Landry’s script has become one of the most produced holiday shows in the country, and it’s for good reason. His script stays faithful to the Frank Capra film but also allows theatre companies to add their own flavor to the plot.

Director Lauren Katz’ production injects a much-appreciated sense of humor. The radio players often merely serve as vessels for the characters of It’s a Wonderful Life, but here they’re given more dimension, and their individual talents are showcased in cute jingles and a stirring rendition of ‘Silent Night’ from Halli Morgan.

(L to R) Chase Wheaton-Werle, Carolyn Plurad, Nathaniel Thomas, Rami Halabi and Halli Morgan in IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE: A LIVE RADIO PLAY from Oil Lamp Theater.

A fun element of radio style plays is that actors perform multiple parts in rapid succession. Chase Wheaton-Werle switches between roles as seamlessly as a chameleon, while Nathaniel Thomas’ boyish earnestness makes him a perfectly sincere George Bailey. It’s also cool to see how old-time radio sounds were made, and Corey L Mills plays the “foley artist” with a great sense of comedic timing.

Landry’s script is malleable so that it always feels unique to the companies who have made this show their yearly tradition. Katz and cast bring a few new plot points that help thicken the story up. Though, It’s a Wonderful Life is a timeless classic film, it’s exciting to see what new directors bring to stage versions. There’s a quirky edge to Oil Lamp’s production that gives audiences a few surprises while staying true to the heart of this enduring classic. 

Recommended.

Through December 28 at Oil Lamp Theatre. 1723 Glenview Road. 847-834-0738

Don’t be deceived by the title.  The phrase “lifespan of a fact” sounds about as dry as the Mojave Desert and just a mite confusing.  But, as Glenview’s Oil Lamp Theater’s current stage production proves, those knee jerk perceptions turn out to be completely absurd.  Instead, its The Lifespan of a Fact is about as engrossing and entertaining as anything you’ll find on the big screen, a streaming service or another theatrical stage.

Adapted from a 2012 book of the same title, the play re-enacts the fiery real-life interplay between a writer and his fact checker about a magazine article concerning suicide in Las Vegas. A sixteen-year-old boy, Levi Presley, jumped from the Stratosphere Hotel in 2002. The author writing about his death, John D’Agata, used his piece to talk more broadly about the scourge of suicide and its prevalence in Vegas.  Jim Fingal was the fact checker assigned to him by the magazine publishing his essay.  Together, they would eventually co-author the book, The Lifespan of a Fact, revealing the laborious and harrowing process of ensuring the preservation of truth remains the cornerstone of journalistic practice. Derived from the book, Oil Lamp’s standout presentation of the play, which debuted in 2018, brings that process blazingly to life.

It starts innocently enough, slathered as it is in the hallmarks of high stakes corporate urgency. Magazine editor Emily Penrose (Marianne Embree) needs a fact checker for an article by a highly regarded writer known to take creative liberties with his submissions. She taps a young, eager and very bright recent Harvard grad, Jim Fingal (James Wheeler), for the job.  He’s got three days to make sure every detail is accurate and if they’re not, make sure they are by Monday. Fingal assures her he’s got this.  Not only does he carry the Harvard stamp, he reminds her he also worked on the college’s vaunted newspaper, The Crimson.  After reviewing his strategy with her, he’s flushes whatever plans he had for the weekend and plunges into his task.

Quickly noticing discrepancies in what the author stated and what was fact, he queries her about how best to address the conflict.  High ranking editors in New York’s media empires don’t usually have time for the tedium of minutiae and she recommends he call D’Agata himself for clarifications or corrections.  With that recommendation, she’s unwittingly introducing dynamite to a flame.

So driven is he to meet his commitment, Fingal hops a plane to Vegas, uninvited and uninstructed, to meet with the author. From moment one, Wheeler as Fingal fills his role so completely you have no reservations cheering his conviction, even if he is a bit top heavy in the sanctimonious and ego departments.  The first has a lot to do with who he’s dealing with.  He and D’Agata, splendidly played by Tim Walsh, have opposing views on the pliability of journalistic tenets.  D’Agata doesn’t even want to call the piece he submitted an article.  He prefers to reference it as an essay, something much more amenable to creative license.  As interested in the feel, texture and aesthetic resonance of his writing as he is in its truth, D’Agata believes some facts, or a portion of the core components of truth, can be sacrificed to the art of writing.  Neither the editor or the fact checker questions the beauty or power of the piece D’Agata has written about the young boy’s death, but they don’t want a compromised truth to be its cost. With two colossal egos at war, the clashes between the two men become titanic and, superficially, hugely comical.  Director Elizabeth Mazur Levin’s nimble sense of pacing keeps anticipation on a steady boil and the scrappy, often scintillating dialog, bullet train fast.   Jeremy Kareken, David Murrell and Gordon Farrell adapted the book for the stage and deserve extravagant praise for how effectively they make the would-be arcane so deliciously palatable.  

Although the play’s beginning transpires in the blank sterility of a New York office building, the bulk of it happens in D’Agata’s Las Vegas home.  There, Ellen Markus’s scenic design gives a sobering view of what life as an acclaimed and respected feature writer might look like.  It’s not an enviable or tempting picture.  Rather it’s quite modest and absent of anything that suggests indulgence or noticeable luxury.  D’Agata informs the fact checker that he lived there with his mother until she passed away and confirmed he also teaches at a local university in Las Vegas.  It’s the type of solitary existence that fosters contemplation.  And it also seems to be an environment where convictions easily harden. 

In a desperate attempt to salvage a written work she hopes will be a part of her legacy at the magazine, the editor, Penrose, eventually ends up in Vegas, too.  As the three pick the article/essay apart, evaluating the import, significance and intrinsic criticality of each factual element, you sense the gravity of what they’re attempting to do.  As much as Fingal the fact checker abhors it, they’re “negotiating” on what and how information will be relayed in D’Agata’s story.  How truth, as they collectively agree to define it, will be expressed.   The process is quiet, reasoned and as gripping as watching the deliberations of a “trial of the century” live and in-person. 

It would be terrific if seeing the play does what the artistic team behind the production would like it to do, generate conversation about the relationship between truth, facts and storytelling.  But if it doesn’t, The Lifespan of a Fact will make you think about all those things more intently, more actively and, in essence, leave you a changed person.  The acting, directing and production value just happen to push the entertainment quotient sky high. 

The Lifespan of a Fact

Through April 13, 2025

Oil Lamp Theater

1723 Glenview Road

Glenview, IL  60025

https://www.oillamptheater.org/mainstage-productions/the-lifespan-of-a-fact

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

Have you ever fallen in love – or out of love? Have you ever lost the love of your life only to find the new love is waiting for you right around the corner at just the perfect moment? Have you ever found love when you weren’t even looking for it? In John Cariani’s play, Almost Maine, the audience follows a series of several vignettes that revolves around these questions, each taking place in a small out of the way Maine town that sits under the Northern Lights. Skillfully directed by Susan Gorman, the stories we are presented with are touching, charming and often very funny. While some scenes are more direct in their nature a few are intended for the audience to interpret – leaving myself in a healthy conversation on the way home on where we felt the writer was going. The nice thing about this play is that it relates to just about everyone who has been in a relationship in one way or another, so throughout the performance it was easy to say to myself on a few occasions, yep, I’ve been there…

To successfully pull off its nine heartfelt sketches, this talented cast of four take on the daunting task of playing five-plus roles each – and they absolutely nail it. Cast members, Eileen Dixon, Zach Kunde, Whitney Minarik and Rio Ragazzone each get to show off their wide ranges, particularly impressing with their spot-on comedic timing. The casting couldn’t have been more perfect as all four leave notable performances – and to be fair, I caught the final preview just before opening night.

The creative team does a fine job in staging this production. The set is simple – not much more than a few pine trees thoughtfully moved around a home or establishment entrance for each scene – but it works well thanks to an engaging script that really keeps our focus on each actor so that the set works more as a subtle background that leaves the actors with a wide open, nearly blank canvas, leaving the deeper details of its scenes up to the imagination of the audience.   

In all, I found Almost, Maine an irresistible collection of quaint love stories that touched on every end of the spectrum. Delightful and often laugh out loud funny, Oil Lamp Theater kicks off 2023 with a sure-fire winner that is sure to capture the hearts of so many. Almost, Maine runs through February 26^th. For tickets and/or more show information, click HERE.

Recommended!

*On a side note, it was my first time attending an Oil Lamp production in their Glenview home. Just a short (and easy) drive from Chicago, I found the theater space perfectly sized for an intimate, yet roomy, experience and there isn’t a bad seat in the house. I’d suggest arriving to a show early to check out the charming bar/lounge area that includes loads of comfy seating and the added nice touch of providing cookies for its guests. And with parking just next to the theater, it couldn’t have been a better all-around experience.