Displaying items by tag: Writers Theatre

Playwright Eleanor Burgess has delivered one of the best scripts I've read or seen, in ‘Wife of a Salesman.’ While it may be viewed somewhat as a “prequel” to Arthur Miller’s 1949 classic ‘Death of a Salesman,’ it never directly references that play, and is an intriguing and challenging work of art that is an instant classic. Its world premier, running through April 3 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL, is a theatrical event of the first order.

Produced in partnership with the Milwaukee Rep, 'Wife of a Salesman' is set in the 1950s (television is just arriving), the play opens in the apartment of The Mistress (Amanda Drinkall), a young blonde awakening to her day perhaps still basking in the glow of an amorous adventure the night before. When a knock somes to her door, she opens it, giving us a glimpse of a matronly woman with a briefcase, then slams it shut immediately, scurrying to straighten up the room, and pull herself together. A minute later she opens the door to this visitor, The Wife (Kate Fry) of the title.

From that opening moment The Mistress conveys through a gasp that she recognizes this unbidden visitor. Then the door reopens and The Wife enters, posing as a fabric saleswoman.Moments of increasing intensity follow, The Wife unable to open her sample case, and The Mistress deftly managing it for her. The Wife comments on a figurine of the Madonna, noting awkwardly that The Mistress must be Catholic. “My neighbors are Catholic,” she notes, and adds that they are nice people. She begins her halting sales pitch on the various samples. And soon The Mistress takes her to task for her poor salesmanship, offering with ratcheting intensity examples of how a sales presentation should be made. And the frey begins.

The Wife, we learn, has driven from New York to Boston, to confront her husband’s mistress, grist for any soap opera, a story from time immemorial. But Burgess unfolds this telling with precision strikes, and Kate Fry and Amanda Drinkall do not miss a beat in the imaginative script under the tight direction of Jo Bonney.

Burgess, whose plays include ‘The Niceties,’ plays out this examination of women’s roles in the 1950s with master craftsmanship. Every beat of the performances draw us into the story, the conflict, and to contrast contemporary views of women’s status in society with expectations from an earlier era.

Then, with a magical stroke (no spoiler), Burgess allows us to meet the actresses playing the roles, and see ways their personal lives parallel those of the 1950s characters. We listen to a generational divergence, Millennial vs. Genx types, in how to chart careers.

But the playwright goes further: the actresses ask the director Jim (Rom Barkhorder) to restore two powerful monologues that he has cut, and to let them speak to the playwright directly. In this meta transformation, Burgess is naming several of the fraught dynamics of theater: the tendency of at least some directors to view actors as”necessary evils” in staging plays, like herding cats. Jim also has an indifferent patriarchal power, and he fends off with familiar tropes of male disregard the multiple entreaties by the actresses to be given their due.

The creative team has given the show a set that is a delight to behold. Tickets to this outstanding production of 'Wife of a Salesman' are available at Writers Theatre. 

We are rarely privy to the forthright conversations traded among the wealthy about class dynamics and privilege. Doubly so when they involve the rarified class of rich, well-borne African Americans.
In Stickfly, playwright Lydia Diamond said she wanted to “write a play that talks about class and class strata within the African American community. I don’t think people think of that very often, and it is fascinating.”

In Diamond’s Stickfly, receiving a stellar production at Writers Theatre, we become a fly on the wall for a combative and contentious family battle, one that veers toward ugly, and delves into family secrets perhaps better left unspoken.

All this makes for a rousing, thought provoking evening, with a beautiful production under the direction of Ron OJ Parsons. Part melodrama, part soap opera, the two acts fly by, as engrossing as a Netflix binge watch.

We meet the LeVay family, who are like any other African American family in many ways, exceptional in that they are very well to do, highly educated and they own property in the elite Edgartown section of Martha’s Vineyard. We learn this property has been in Mrs. LeVay’s family (the Wickhams) for generations, a gift to one of her ancestors. But it’s Joseph LeVay’s money that keeps it up.

The set design (Linda Buchanan) suggests a wealthy, old money lifestyle. There is expensive (including museum-caliber impressionists) artwork on the walls. Outside the kitchen window sailboats ply the Atlantic Ocean. There is a staircase leading up to several bedrooms. The family room is nicely appointed with fine furniture and bookcases. The kitchen has the latest appliances and a fully stocked refrigerator. To the left of the kitchen, a door leads to the back porch and garden, with seating. You can almost feel and hear the seaside.

Class dynamics figures prominently in this excellent production. As the play opens, a young woman, Cheryl (Ayanna Bria Bakari) is preparing the house for guests. She is college bound, but filling in for her mother, the longtime housekeeper who has fallen ill. Cheryl is in some respects an honorary member of the LeVay household, but within limits - owing to her household duties.

The first family member to arrive is Kent (Eric Gerard), a highly educated but meandering writer, along with his fiancée Taylor (Jennifer Latimore) a researching entomologist. Kent tours the property with Taylor, explaining his great great ancestor.

“He was never a slave. He was a shipper. But we don’t talk about that,” Kent says, foreshadowing other matters that we learn have also been unspoken.

Taylor, who comes from a poorer background, is awed and shocked, and intimidated, by the casual wealth of this family. But the gardens make good grounds for her research into insects, referenced by the play's title.

Soon we meet Flip (DiMonte Henning) the misogynistic, arrogant, plastic surgeon, the older brother of Kent. These two men are nothing alike. Where Kent is warm and understanding, Flip is abrasive and smug.

Tensions build and sparks fly when we learn Flip and Taylor had a fling several years ago – but no one else knows about it. Flip also exerts the pressure of class structure pressure on Taylor, who is an exuberant, free spirit.

“You seem to have no social constraints, which concerns me, because you will be my brother’s wife,” Flip says to her.

Joseph LeVay (David Alan Anderson) the family patriarch, arrives without his wife. He seems to be preoccupied, and when questions arise about Mama LeVay’s absence, Joseph quickly puts them to rest, revealing himself as a controlling bully.

Flip announces that his girlfriend is coming – and, notably, that she is Italian. This says a lot about his character. Flip could not introduce just any white girl to his parents, even though her family is as rich and accomplished as the LeVay’s. Her family has a home in tony Kennebunkport, and she looks good on his resume.

Tellingly, Kent says not that he is so in love with her, but that she’s Italian, which makes her exotic. He’s a playboy by his own admission. He’s also his father’s favorite…the reason why becomes clearer as the action unfolds.

When we finally met Kimber (Kayla Raelle Holder) we realize that she is in fact just your average socially conscious WASP. She is nether impressed nor notices the wealth around her - well, except for the housekeeper - but that is no biggie. She is comfortably at home, unlike Taylor, who feels compelled to assist Cheryl with her housekeeping duties.

The first half of Stickfly establishes the tensions among the characters. The fast-paced dialog turns up a notch in the second act, with emotions spinning out of control. Parsons does an excellent job keeping the highly charged production on pace. The actors move about the set, entering and leaving with a precision that looks natural.

By the end of the night you realize you will have weathered emotional storms with six very different people. And these characters are so real, you feel they have studied themselves, and some have even grown, as well. Stickfly is highly recommended. It runs through March 15 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

The Niceties is a play that engages the intellect. But in so doing, sets up a tug-of-war with our gut, addressing a visceral issue for today: race.

Like the puzzler plays Proof or Seminar (both also set at a university campus) The Niceties leads us to think through ideas, in this case the customs and intellectual practices of the erudite precincts of academia. Instead of a puzzle, though, we are faced with a compelling case, made by college student Zoe, that some of the pedagogical and research practices of university professors are mired in the past. And because of this, academia misses out on on the cultural train departing the station. The plain of this discussion takes place on how racially grounded cultural orientations shape how we see and describe the world - and record its history. 

Zoe (Ayanna Bria Bakari) is a college student working on a senior paper in Political Science, and thinking through plans for graduate school. During office hours with her professor Janine (Mary Beth Fisher), they review Zoe’s history paper on The American Revolution. After offering a broadly positive comment on the paper’s worthiness, Janine provides cursory advice on grammar and a missing comma (“You can’t proof on the screen,” Janine admonishes Zoe).

That little aside provides the first whiff of a divide between the two – digital, political, and cultural – that playwright Eleanor Burgess lays out for us in this engaging 2017 work. Zoe is African-American, a political activist, and like her peers in the millennial generation, schooled in online research.

Boomers like Janine (and me) keep stacks of volumes around and can remember where those passages are, if they can just find that book. Zoe, meanwhile, digs up the same citations on her smart phone pronto. 

After Janine mentions her son Zachary is a student, Zoe lets her know that he is in her poetry class. This sparks a self-ironic discourse in which Janine makes an unflattering revelation about herself. Having Zachary on campus, Janine says, has “forced me to see my students as something other than walking theses statements…which is very disorienting.”This bit of self-deprecation does not take away from the truth behind that statement. 

Janine recognizes that Zoe is quite a brilliant student, but is dismissive of her paper's primary contention – “A successful American Revolution was only possible because of slavery” – because it isn't backed by formal citations that support some of her assertions. Zoe instead cites websites and Wikipedia entries. 

But we suspect Janine's criticisms are based on something more. We learn that the action takes place prior to the 2017 election, as Janine confidently predicts Clinton will be the first woman President. In this detail Burgess reveals an arrogance about Janine, one borne of certainty about her world view. How much her confidence would be shaken by Clinton's loss we can only imagine. But the playwright has a preciipitous fall in store for Janine - which we will not spoil.

Suffice it to say the debate between the two builds in intensity, with Zoe challenging her professor’s demands for published, footnoted revidence of reference material.

“If you need evidence, you are excluding the people who couldn’t leave history behind,” Zoe asserts. (Current thought in academia now accepts “imagined history” from those without records - indigenous peoples and slaves.)

Janine is less used to receiving such impassioned pushback. “I like that you stick by your opinions,” Janine tells Zoe. But she doesn’t really. The scene becomes heated, and the argument builds to a crescendo.

“Your thesis is fundamentally unsound,” charges Janine, telling Zoe to rewrite the work, or take a lower grade. Once the gloves are off, Janine invites Zoe to illuminate her supposed shortcomings as a professor. When Zoe reads verbatim from Janine's lectures, she notes her unmitigating praise of Washington and Jefferson may not work so well for the five students in class who are descendants of slaves. 

The language of the dialog is razor sharp, and very much reflects the characters.  The matter ends in a crisis as Act 1 closes, and you will be anxious to find out what happens in Act II, though I confess to being a disappointed in the lack of a dramatic resolution at the final curtain.

Director Marti Lyons has coaxed out great performances in a production that is smart and fast paced. The Niceties runs through December 8 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

Is love a commodity? Ibsen’s enduring drama “A Doll’s House” has asked audiences for over a century. Writers Theatre unveils a new 90 minute pared-down adaptation penned by Sandra Delgado and directed by Lavina Jadhwani. 

“A Doll’s House” is one of Ibsen’s most known plays. It tells the story of a society woman, Nora (Cher Alvarez) and her struggles with money. Her husband Torvald (Greg Matthew Anderson) patronizes her like she’s one of the children, as long as she plays the happy wife. All seems joyful until a childhood friend, Christine (Tiffany Renee Johnson), comes to ask a favor. Nora, though docile, has her own secrets and when a debt comes due, she must act in order to protect her husband’s reputation. 

Ibsen and Chekhov make some theatre-goers groan. Classic theatre can often be a long evening, but Delgado takes the lengthy work and shortens it down to a one-act without intermission. Her script begs the question, is that necessary? Translations can make all the difference in how we perceive classic works of literature. One translation can vastly differ from another and their authors are usually long dead. It’s hard to say if their intentions translate. In the case of Writer’s adaption of “A Doll’s House” it somewhat misses the mark. 

Performances are good, but they overshadow a wooden script. There’s a degree of inconsistency from line to line. Some dialogue is perfectly modern while other parts seem like a more literal word for word translation that leaves out most of the passion. Unfortunately streamlining this script for a 90-minute run time edited out the poetry, or any memorable strands of dialogue for that matter. This production feels more like a SparkNotes summary of the original rather than an adaptation. 

Cher Alvarez’s Nora is the heart and soul of this production. She breathes life into the clunky dialogue and by the end she’s the only character to elicit much emotional response from the audience. Her performance serves as the depth that’s missing from Delgado’s script. Greg Matthew Anderson as the doting husband Torvald, adds dimension to the character who is otherwise pretty flat. Which is just the issue here, it’s as if the playwright wrote caricatures of Ibsen characters in order to shift the focus toward a grander point about loveless marriages. That point never really solidifies and it’s up to the audience to decide what Ibsen’s intentions were. 

There’s been a renewed interest in this classic as Lucas Hnath’s Broadway smash hit “A Doll’s House Part 2” (2017) is one of the most produced plays in America right now. And there’s good reason, it’s a great modern take on the themes originally explored by Ibsen. There’s an edge to his sort of sequel. There’s no edge in this current production at Writers Theatre. For Ibsen purists, this production will be disappointing but those with a tepid interest will be rewarded by the short run time and outstanding performances. 

Through December 15 at Writers Theatre - 321 Tudor Court, Glencoe. 847-242-6000

I’ve said it before and I’ll surely say it again: We Chicagoland theatergoers find ourselves wandering through — lost in, even — a fairyland of shows and venues and world-class talent. And never was that more evident than when I experienced the Writers Theatre’s current production of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods, directed by Gary Griffin.

The show, of course, is part of the Broadway canon, beloved by so many and sure to please. And the theater, with its in-the-round set transformed by Scott Davis into something both sensational and sinister, promised the same as soon as I ventured into its woods found my seat therein.

But, as I’ve said before and will surely say again, it was the cast that performed the most magic, that inhabited the characters who are Sondheim’s wondrous woods’ inhabitants and explorers and tragic tales. As strong as any cast I’ve ever seen, here or elsewhere, this was an all-star ensemble of Chicago’s artists and actors.

Set by Writers Theatre artistic director Michael Halberstam (as narrator) and conductor/pianist Charlotte Rivard-Hoster’s three-piece orchestra, the stage becomes a world that reveals one fantastic character after another — characters fantastic since their creations centuries before, but made even more so by those now portraying them.

Lucy Godínez’s Little Red Riding Hood is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but winkingly so, letting the children of all ages watching her that this fairytale land isn’t what we remember it to be. Michael Mahler (who I last admired for his Jeff-winning musical direction of 2018’s The Buddy Holly Story) grounds us as the longsuffering but steadfast Baker. And Ximone Rose’s Cinderella is equally spellbinding whether grubby from soot or gowned for the ball. Each of the stars is a force to be reckoned with.

The force those characters all must reckon with, however, is Bethany Thomas’ Witch. From beginning to end, whether hunched over in rags or wowing with her presence and her voice, Thomas is the star of the show. Even when surrounded by sights and sounds that would catch eyes and ears and turn heads in any other setting, Thomas is the focus whenever she’s onstage. Sure, that comes with the role. But Thomas’ talent magnifies the inherent star power the Witch possesses. She’s imposing, enthralling, enchanting.

But so, too, is the ensemble that populates the Witch’s world. Brianna Borger grounds the woods in the real, human world as the Baker’s Wife. William Brown brings gravity (and a bit of gaiety) whenever his Mysterious Man appears. Mary Poole’s a hoot (or a moo?!) as Milky White. Ryan McBride and Alex Benoit bring the princely racket with both renditions of “Agony.” And just as riotous are Cinderella’s kin, played by Kelli Harrington, Nicole Armold, and Molly Hernandez (like Mr. Mahler, also part of Buddy’s Jeff-winning ensemble).

So, be assured that this production is one that not only that does right by Sondheim, but gives his classic a stunning and unique interpretation. And, as I’ve said before and I’ll surely say again, the fact that this unique interpretation is available to us Chicago theater lovers — and performed by the unique gathering of talent we are so blessed with — is magical, indeed.

At Writers Theatre through September 22nd.

You know if a musical wins the Pulitzer, it’s going to be a sad one. Creative team Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey took home the 2010 Pulitzer for ‘Next to Normal’, an award rarely given to musical theatre. David Cromer returns to Writers Theatre to direct this highly anticipated revival. Cromer has strong roots with the Glencoe-based company and this faithful, yet distinct production contains all the hallmarks of his signature style. Cromer also directed the Tony awarded production of ‘The Band’s Visit’ which just closed on Broadway last month.

‘Next to Normal’ is a rock opera about a suburban mother and housewife dealing with bipolar disorder. Not exactly the sexiest topic for a musical, but lyricist Brian Yorkey cuts through the schmaltz with deeply effective words about the state of mental health in America.

This show relies heavily on the small cast, but probably even heavier on the actress in the lead role. Keely Vasquez is devastating as Diana Goodman. Her performance is realistic and shocking as she rapidly slips from seemingly normal mother into the depths of psychosis, while mostly in song. A tough order to fill without losing your audience. Her daughter Natalie is played by Kyrie Courter who appears to be displaying Cromer’s directorial style the strongest in this ensemble. She has a great voice that she maintains even during the most challenging moments of acting.

Writers’ remount of ‘Next to Normal’ is hardly an area premier, as the national tour starring Alice Ripley made a stop in Chicago, and a few other companies have tackled this one since. Though Writers’ production feels like a definitive regional engagement. Cromer has a knack for these hard-hitting musicals. Some may remember his gritty, raw production of ‘RENT’ at the now defunct American Theatre Company. His vision for this show is unique and tends to go for the emotional gut rather than crystal clear showtune belting. While this may irk some musical theatre purists, the visceral sounds of the cast seem more authentic than the original cast recording.

This show is more like a play in song, than a traditional musical. Its depth lies in that it’s a story about specific characters dealing with an issue that many people can see themselves in. Even if you can’t relate to the character dealing with bipolar, the plight of the characters effected is heartbreaking. ‘Next to Normal’ is a slow builder. It isn’t really until the second act that it all catches up to you and by the finale, it’s hard to find anyone not emoting. This production is well worth hopping on the Metra for. If you missed the tour or the Broadway engagement, fear not, Cromer delivers an equally satisfying product.

Through June 16 at Writers Theatre. 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe IL 847-242-6000

A Number is an elegant, fully enthralling thought piece by one of Britain’s greatest playwrights, Caryl Churchill. Just over an hour long, it is relentlessly intriguing, keeping you on the edge of your seat as you follow the unfolding story - first in bits and pieces, then building to a torrent of revelation, and finally slamming shut, like a book cover at the end of an intense mystery.

Set in the not too distant future, A Number opens with father and son midway through an intense conversation. We can see the son, Bernard, is distraught.

We piece together that Bernard has learned that his birth was the product of a scientific intervention. But this is not the root of his upset. Rather, he has discovered that the research scientist, now deceased, employed experimental methods and went further than he should have.

With a powerful performances by William Brown as the father, Salter, and the skillful Nate Burger in the role of Bernard, this mystery puts the audience through an intellectual puzzle along the lines of Proof or Doubt.

In this case, Bernard learns that he is not alone - that there were other test tube babies cloned in that lab. More painfully, perhaps, we gather that Bernard has a whiff of suspicion his father was complicit with everything, and continues to dissemble.

“They said none of us was the original,” Bernard tells Salter. “If you are not my father, it’s fine. If you did an in vitro or whatever, just tell me.” How many were there?

“A number,” his father replies vaguely, and again we sense he knows more than he is admitting. He moves to distract Bernard from this upset by calculating the dollar value of a lawsuit against the laboratory for this violation of their trust.

In fact, Salter knows much more, but we must not spoil the plot. We can say Churchill artfully traverses the science, emotional and dramatic terrain in a unique way - exploring our tendency to all too easily surrender governance of our souls to the technological wonders surrounding us. It is also a tragedy, and Brown’s Shakespearean chops serve him well as he laments, “I did some bad things, and I deserve to be punished,” but adding a post-modern twist, “And I did some better things, and I deserve recognition for that.” Bernard rails back, “That’s how everyone feels!” And we wallow with them in our uniquely contemporary angst.

This work, written in 2002, is a precursor to the dark intensity we experience in watching Black Mirror on television. The action heightens and takes violent twists that are shocking even if unseen. The scenic design by Courtney O’Neill, with black picture windows looking out on the void, conveys an eerie spectre of foreboding.

Churchill is known for Cloud Nine, Top Girls, and Serious Money, all three of them Obie winning works - but I am sorry to say I did not know more of her. Now I will be unable to forget her. 

Plaudits to the creative team at Writers Theatre, including dramaturg Bobby Kennedy in this masterful production tightly directed by Robin Witt. We can highly recommend it. A Number runs through June 9, 2019 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe.

Ask yourself, do you have hope that things can get better? The word itself certainly echoes back to a different political climate in America. Now it seems the very word has been replaced with fear. Jen Silverman’s new play ‘Witch’ is holding its world premiere at Writers Theatre in Glencoe. It’s an update on a seventeenth century tragicomedy but don’t let that fool you, this play has a lot to say about our modern world.

Directed by Marti Lyons, ‘Witch’ tells the tale of the devil coming to a small village. Like all plays concerning Satan, the devil is after souls in exchange for worldly goods or successes of some kind. Ryan Hallahan plays Scratch, one of the devil’s henchman. His wile body language and delivery make him a slick salesman for the master of dark desires. For the villagers already lacking good morals, his pitch is an easy sell. He quickly pits the son of the richest man in town, Cuddy Banks (Steve Haggard) against an ambitious interloper Frank Thorney (Jon Hudson Odom) in a battle for inheritance and land.

This arc serves as the main driver of plot in this 90-minute play but the real meat lies in the battle between Scratch and the town outcast, or witch, Elizabeth Sawyer (Audrey Francis). Elizabeth begins the play with a monologue that asks about hope and explains the mundane cruelties we commit against one another. Francis is captivating. The character is sarcastic and dry. Silverman’s dialogue flows perfectly through Francis’ performance and her emotional reckoning brings about one of the play’s most powerful moments.

Finally, a play about witches that isn’t ‘The Crucible’. Silverman’s script is a lot of fun. It gets to mingle in the 1600s but enjoy the freedom and accessibility of modern dialogue. The contrast is purposeful, asking the audience, has anything really changed? Whether the play is optimistic or pessimistic is really up to the viewers’ interpretation. Either way, there are a lot of laughs here that in the end build to a greater philosophical question. Is change possible or do we have to just start over again from scratch?

If it’s something spooky you’re after, ‘Witch’ will scratch your itch. Though not really a horror story, the intricate production design by Yu Shibagaki gets into the Halloween spirit. Even with the devil, and a supposed witch, this play isn’t really about the supernatural. Rather, it relies on human meanness as the haunting theme, and honestly what’s scarier than that?

Through December 16 at Writers Theatre 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe. 847-242-6000

The story of the aftermath of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War has been told and retold, but never in such a lively and colorful manner as Vietgone, now playing at the Writers Theatre in Glencoe.

Written with the insight and perspective of a first-generation millennial, the play by Qui Nguyen gives us a fresh take not only on the story, but on storytelling and dramatic style and structure – a work that is part musical, part performance piece, all of it fitting for our era of Hamilton-style historical drama. Directed beautifully by Lavina Jadhwani, Vietgone features original music and music direction by Gabriel Ruiz, who has gained acclaim in Chicago’s venturesome Teatro Vista’s Ensemble. It features great choreography by Tommy Rapley.

If you feel the story of the Vietnam War has been covered ad nauseum already, you will be immensely surprised and entertained by this take from a group of people who were most directly affected the fallout of the event – Vietnamese who were hurriedly and even chaotically evacuated in April 1975, as South Vietnam’s capital, Saigon, fell to the North Vietnamese forces.

In Vietgone, we meet a series of character “types” – the author himself (who introduces the play as “possibly true”); also his father; and a young woman who plans to thrive on her new found freedom; her opportunistic middle-aged mother, who hopes to find romance, and to avoid learning English; U.S. soldier who falls for a Vietnamese girl; even a racist biker who stands in for the legions of Americans who had trouble laying down enmity against their Asian enemies after decades of war against the North Vietnamese Communist regime.

One character, a South Vietnamese army pilot, desperately wants to return to his wife and two young children. But if he does, he will likely be punished as a war criminal by the victors from Hanoi. Nguyen forthrightly addresses such stories of individual suffering and the culture clashes that ensued for these sudden transplants whose families and way of life were abruptly torn asunder.

But Nguyen also conveys the joy that was discovered in contemporary American rhythm and blues and rock and funk and dance as these individuals found their way. From this grounding springs an entrancing musical experience. Lyrics to the songs are rapped clear as a bell, with some songs “nearly sung” quite delightfully. This entrancing musical performance overlay may belie the darker aspects of the deeply powerful story that it also conveys. But the form brings us into the work so we can receive that story.

Vietgone centers its tale on the initial phase of evacuation, 130,000 South Vietnamese who were transported to via Guam into the United States, landing at resettlement camps at four military bases: Fort Chaffee in Arkansas, Camp Pendleton in California, Fort Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania, and Eglin Air Force Base in Florida. Nearly two million more people followed them in separate exoduses, settling at points around the globe under U.N. auspices. 

Along with telling the story of that first cohort, Qui Nguyen introduces us to numerous memorable characters, whose background and personalities stay with us following the show. To have established so many individuals so vividly and concretely is quite an impressive accomplishment - all to the credit of this sterling cast. Standouts are Aurora Adachi-Winter as Tong and Matthew C. Yee as Quang. 

Vietgone is highly recommended. It runs through September 23 at Writers Theatre. 

*Extended through September 29th

a“There’s no honor in self destruction.” An interesting line to ponder when thinking about what Sam Shepard’s Pulitzer Prize winner ‘Buried Child’ says about our current times. Sadly we lost Sam Shepard recently. Writers Theatre’s production of ‘Buried Child’ serves as a fitting homage. Director Kimberly Senior assembles a dream cast for her well-conceived revival.

Senior is a meticulous director. The attention to minor details of staging makes for an immersive experience. ‘Buried Child’ is a complicated play, reading it can be challenging. Senior’s version is clear. Her grasp of the script and the meaning of Sam Shepard’s words shines through. While it adds a little to the runtime of the show, two intermissions is a wise choice.

This production changes the focus somewhat. Shepard was known for male-driven plays and some critics argue his female characters are underdeveloped. Senior mines the script for a new interpretation; that ultimately the women are the ones who keep the play moving. Shannon Cochran plays Hallie, the matriarch. Her performance is riveting, she stalks the stage doling out anger and jokes. Also playing against type is Arti Ishak as Shelly. This character is ordinarily somewhat meek but here she’s a dominant figure that forces this family to its reckoning.

The male roles are notably cast. Mark L. Montgomery is nearly unrecognizable as Tilden. His portrayal of an emotionally stunted man-child is haunting. Timothy Edward Kane delivers a sort of ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ vibe as the younger son Bradley. His wandering eye contact has an unsettling effect. Larry Yando becomes Dodge. Yando’s an old pro at playing a grumpy old man but the physicality of sickness and depression are palpable.

Shepard wrote this play in the 70s as an observation on the misery of rural American life. Once idyllic places got decimated by closed factories and failing farms. Unfortunately not much has changed for the better in these places, and for that this production seems timely as ever. Kimberly Senior’s production would make Sam Shepard proud. The atmospheric staging and guttural dialogue combined with powerhouse performances will surely leave a lasting impression. A thrilling version for our modern times.

Through June 17 at Writers Theatre. 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe IL. 847-242-6000