Anthony J. Mangini

Even as far back as Euripides, the figure of Medea was portrayed as something of a mojada—a derogatory term for ‘wetback.’ Beginning in the late fifth century, for instance, shortly after Euripides’s own stage version of the myth, artists began to accentuate Medea’s role as a foreigner living within Greek society, dressing her in exotic oriental garb rather than the clothing of a traditional Greek woman. The perpetual ‘stranger in a strange land,’ the myth of Medea—scorned and infanticidal—has ever since lent itself to probing considerations of cultural assimilation, gender inequity, and the darker aspects of romantic love.

Formally speaking, Home/Land brings all of its considerable assets to bear, seamlessly layering traditional sketches, interpretive movement, original music, and extended monologues into a near two hour piece full of more wit, wisdom, and humane compassion than is likely to be found on the floor of any state legislature at the moment. These kids know how severe the stakes are, and Home/Land almost tremors with a kind of raw immediacy, creating an unseen force which almost pushes you out of your seat and to your feet.

That said, there’s still plenty here to entertain, including a charismatic performance from its lead (wo)man Lanning. Funny, committed and likable, even if Lanning doesn’t set about to reinvent the wheel, he at the very least shows himself a master craftsman. There’s still some work needed (from director and talent alike) in cleaning up Hedwig’s emotional transitions. But Lauren Paris as Hedwig’s “Man Friday through Thursday” Yitzhak comes equipped with some powerful singing chops, helping give Haven’s production a much-needed rock edge. And the four-piece rock band, led by musical director Kory Danielson, sounds electric (even as they occasionally drown out the voices).

It’s not especially out of the ordinary in the theater for there to be bouts of nervous laughter. But usually, it’s unintentional—the awkward byproduct of jokes gone awry, actors gone off-key or whole plays gone sadly off the rails. Rare is the play which demands nervous laughter. Insists upon it. Nay, even feeds off of it.

Set in Chicago’s highly affluent Hyde Park/Kenwood neighborhood, there is something terrifyingly relevant about the evangelist Tartuffe’s efforts to dispossess Orgon of his property, ensnare his daughter in abject bondage, and ultimately cuckold Orgon before finally sending him off to be incarcerated for crimes against the state. The racial undertones of Newell’s production, featuring a black man threatened with prison, leaving his wife and two children to fend for themselves, is a narrative sadly all too familiar to modern American audiences.

The Pride reminds us that buried even within the essential question of civil liberties, there remains still more fundamental questions about how gay men connect to one another. Even as we here in the U.S. seem to teeter on unprecedented political victories for GLBT individuals, The Pride doesn’t let us forget that such hard won personal liberties mean nothing if used only as a pretext for further withdrawal and self-isolation.

Without a doubt, Lifeline Theatre’s recent stage adaptation of French novelist Alexandre Dumas’s The Three Musketeers contains all the adrenaline-pumping athleticism and quick-turning escapades one may dutifully expect from this timeless adventure story.