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By Alan Lester Brooks

Directed by Keira Fromm

Produced by ARLA Productions

At Stage 773, Chicago

Devastating Drama Examines What People Need to Survive

Last year, Theater Wit’s production of Bad Jews was the smash hit of the season, running for several months and transferring between several high-profile venues. Clearly, it struck a nerve with Jewish audiences by examining the legacy Holocaust survivors leave for the last generation that will know them personally. It was also a welcome break from the usual Holocaust plays, which, while important for an entry-level understanding of events and deservingly respected, usually require their protagonists to be passive and ignorant to the point where it is easy to become alienated from them. But now, at Stage 773, Chicago theatregoers have a chance to see the Midwest premiere of Alan Lester Brooks’s A Splintered Soul, a psychological drama which examines what became of the survivors during the first years after they regained their freedom. This play, too, frankly exposes the fault lines in the Jewish community, but what is most remarkable about it, besides Keira Fromm’s skillful production, is its probing of what it means to be a survivor.

Rabbi Simon Kroeller (Craig Spidle) was a resistance fighter in Poland who lost his entire family. Now, in 1947, he lives in San Francisco, where he has no congregation, but is the informal leader of the other survivors. His friend and frequent liaison to the American Jewish community is Martin Levinsky (Dev Kennedy), a judge and firm believer in American liberalism. The men enjoy debating, but the judge isn’t convinced that the rabbi’s group therapy sessions are not really a front for organizing Zionist militants. It’s not, but Simon isn’t so sure he’s against the idea. Next time, he vows, the Jews will be prepared, and they won’t depend on grudging pity from American cousins, or help that never came when it was most needed. To Martin, it sounds like Simon is determined to create a “next time” just so he can have the satisfaction of winning.

The American Jews sponsored the refugees (to become menial laborers), and opened their homes to them (as servants), but the refugees’ un-American ideas and trauma-induced unhealthy behavior is wearing on their hosts’ nerves. Simon acquiesces to allowing Martin to observe one of his sessions, so he can see whether the members are really good for each other. The other members are not pleased about having to disclose what they did to survive to a literal judge, nor about explaining their embarrassing current situations. Mordechai (Nik Kourtis) is a chipper baker’s assistant who wants to get married, but his intended’s father disapproves of his prospects, and there’s another complication which he only admits in strictest confidence. Gerta (Eliza Stoughton) is swallowing her pride by working as a maid in a home where she’s obviously the cause of marital discord, and Sol (Matt Mueller), a skilled craftsman, openly resents being employed making canvas frames. There are also two new arrivals Simon wishes to keep secret from Martin because they’re in the country illegally. Elisa (Jessica Kingsdale) and her brother, Harold (Curtis Edward Jackson), were smuggled into Switzerland and then the United States by a Polish count, but had arrest warrants issued against them in Europe for assisting in his illegal activities, and were sexually abused by him. In them, Simon sees a chance to get back into the fight.

The playing space represents a few houses, but is, for the most part, a clever representation of Simon’s mind. Scenic and lighting designer Brian Sidney Bembridge has covered the entire back wall with paintings of pre-World War II Jewish life in Europe, and at the top of the play, Simon adds a photograph of his wife, whose voice (Johanna McKenzie Miller) he still hears. Craig Spidle’s performance is complex, proud, and tormented, as are those of all the actors. Rabbi Simon not only refuses to “let go” of the past, which Martin defines for him as forgetting it, he also cannot exist without his role as the Jews’ defender. Stoughton, too, plays a woman who disdains the condescension implicit in pity, but she’s determined to move on with her life, and doesn’t care if that means wrecking someone else’s home. Simon, ever the supportive mentor, assures her that she is justified in whatever she wants, but a major influence on him when he says this is the cynical, abrasive Sol. Having survived the camps by constructing the gas chamber doors, Sol makes no apologies for his amorality. When Martin challenges him on how he would feel had his own family perished in the ovens, Sol snaps that they did. Mueller’s performance is chilling, but his character is not the only one who is revealed to have a past like that. The group understands that, though they’re constantly advised not to blame themselves and that they won’t be judged for how they cope, outsiders are still find them disturbing.

The story is mostly driven by Simon’s attempts to protect the other refugees, especially Elisa and Harold, regardless of what anyone else tells him is smart or right. However, the plays is mostly a character study. The problem with dedicating your life to revenge is that it requires there to always be someone to take revenge upon. Simon hears and sees what he wants to, justifies everything, and uses the Holocaust as his framework for understanding every situation he comes across. Of course, the result is not good, but he sincerely inquired about the philosophy of justice from his biggest critics, and tried to do what was right for the people who had been betrayed by everyone else. Director Keira Fromm has done a magnificent job of placing the fallout of a historic catastrophe within scenes from plausible peoples’ lives. Remembering the past doesn’t just mean when it’s convenient, and A Splintered Soul honestly grapples with some of the darkest and most painful legacies of the modern world. It’s tragedy at its finest.

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By Caridad Svich

Based on the Novel by Julia Álvarez

Directed by Ricardo Gutiérrez

Produced by Teatro Vista, Chicago

A Story Too Powerful to Disappear

Among the many modern freedom-fighters whose names have gained international recognition, the Dominican Republic’s Mirabal sisters usually occupy a place of prominence. But for those who are unfamiliar with any more than their names, or who wish to see their story passed on, Caridad Svich’s adaptation of Julia Álvarez’s 1994 novel In the Time of the Butterflies is an excellent opportunity to witness their courage in the face of tyranny. True to Teatro Vista’s mission to present history with a Latino perspective, artistic director Ricardo Gutiérrez’s production remarkably condenses thirteen years into just ninety minutes, while providing a moving, riveting story.

Indeed, the importance of story-telling, and to this story in particular, is emphasized repeatedly from the very beginning of the play. Patria (Sari Sánchez), the oldest and sternest of the young sisters, warns them that words have an effect, so they’d best think before they speak. The play is divided into two main parts, with the four sisters as teenagers and young women under the regime of Rafael Trujillo, and the time of the novel’s writing, when a young Dominican-American (Rinska Carrasco) interviews Dedé (Charín Álvarez), the only sister who survived Trujillo’s assassins. As young women, the Mirabal sisters first noticed that their government was behaving in a frightening manner in high school, while listening to classmates whisper stories about disappeared people. Minerva (Flavia Pallozzi), fittingly considered the wisest of the sisters, developed a passion for justice early on, and sought to become a lawyer so she could advocate for the oppressed. But her work led her to striking up a romantic relationship with a leftist rebel, and to attracting the lustful eye of Trujillo himself. Following a confrontation at a party with the dictator at which she rejects his advances, but accidentally leaves an incriminating letter from her boyfriend, the sisters’ lives are changed forever.

Despite the play’s limited running time, the four actresses playing the sisters establish complex relationships which change enormously over the years being represented. As teens, Minerva finds the youngest sister, Mate (Ayssette Muñóz), with her correspondence, her first instinct is that Mate is spying on her for the government. Later, it is the brash, emotional Mata who insists on joining Minerva’s insurgent cell, with Patria only joining after personally witnessing a massacre offends her moral sensibilities, and Dedé (also played as a young woman by Carrasco) not joining their work until after their (and Trujillo’s) deaths. Based on their behavior as children, that trajectory was unexpected, but Svich’s writing details their changes in a clear, but subtle manner. The actresses are also adept at playing a wide range of ages, being just as convincing as world-weary soldiers who have survived torture as they are as fatuous teenagers. Uriel Gomez’s costumes deigns are also inspired. Though the sisters start out all in similar floral prints, their own senses of style emerge with age, until Patria ends up dressing like a grandmother in her early twenties, and Mate exchanges her flashy dresses for a beret and combat boots.

A major part of why this story is so highly dramatic is that the villain is no distant threat. Played by Eddie Martínez, (as are all the male characters,) Trujillo is sleazy, but sharp, and has a personal relationship with the Mirabal sisters. It also helps that the sisters are actively resisting him and know exactly who they’re fighting. “Butterflies” was their code name for themselves. My only major complaint about the script is that it makes Trujillo too generic a dictator (the Parsley Massacre isn’t mentioned, though that would have shown his unique type of tyranny), but what we see is unsettling enough. Martínez also appears briefly as Rufino de la Cruz, the sisters’ driver, who was killed with them, and is a fleeting, but effective representation of the common people. As this is a memory play, locations are represented mostly through Liviu Pasare’s dazzling projections, which fit with Svich’s intimate focus on the sisters’ psychology. Teatro Vista will present In the Time of the Butterflies three times for schools, but this intensely personal account, mingled with exhortations on the importance of bearing witness, is edifying and rewarding for people of all ages.

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Book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan

Music & Lyrics by Mel Brooks

Directed by L. Walter Stearns

Choreographed by Brigitte Ditmars

Music Director Eugene Dizon

At the Mercury Theater Chicago

Hyper-fun and in-your-face satire rules

Winner of 12 Tony Awards and running on Broadway for 2502 performances, The Producers, based on the 1968 film, is one of the finest musical comedies of all-time! Each time I see this side-splitting musical, I marvel at the genius of Mel Brooks. Anchored by Chicago’s top two comic players: Bill Larkin (Max Bialystock) and Matt Crowle (Leo Bloom), Walter Stearn’s production is a zany gem. It is one of the finest productions mounted at the intimate Mercury Theater.

The story concerns Max Bialystock, a struggling Broadway producer, and Leo Bloom, a stage-struck accountant. These two men join forces in order to make megabucks by producing the worst musical ever seen on Broadway. When they receive a musical script from ex-Nazi stormtrooper Franz Liebkind, which tells the story of Hitler’s rise to power in song and dance, they are convinced that they have found a show that is guaranteed to offend just about everybody.

This show incorporates  humor in every movement, every entrance, every costume, and every dance. It is nonstop, in-your-face satire. They try to offend everyone in a shamelessly glorious production. The musical has dancing storm troopers, dirty old ladies with euphemisms such as “Lick-Me Bite-Me” and “Hold-Me, Touch-Me”, a song with the refrain “Don’t be stupid / Be a smarty / Come and join the Nazi party!” And the marvelously scandalous closing number from the show-within-a-show “Springtime for Hitler” is a hoot!

The shows rests upon who plays Max and Leo, especially after Nathan Lane indelibly established Max as a pure comedic figure and Matthew Broderick gave Leo a likable squeamishness. Bill Larkin’s energy, physicality, and comedic timing combine with his fine voice make Max a treat. Without imitating Lane, Larkin has the character down with his own imprint. He is hilarious as the devilish producer. Matt Crowle has the nervousness, nerdiness, and exquisite comic chops and a nice voice together with rubbery body language to give Leo the necessary neurotic traits. Crowle easily wins out hearts. He can dance and knows how to sell a comedic bit. Larkin and Crowle deliver two excellent, exuberant performances. We quickly care and laugh at these two comic masters. Their chemistry and fine singing give depth to the hilarious characters.

I liked Harter Clingman as Franz Liebkind, the nazi playwright, and Jason Richards as the gay director Roger De Bris with Sawyer Smith as the hilariously swishy Carmen Ghia. Allison Sill as Ulla was more that just a beauty with legs to kill for, she sang wonderfully. The ensemble danced and sang as fine as any you’ll see.

Brigitte Ditmars’ inventive choreography in numbers like the “Keep It Gay,” “I Want To Be A Producer,” “The King of Old Broadway” and the wheelchaired old ladies in “Along Came Bialy” worked to exude more laughs. Every aspect of this fast flowing production produces laughs in a most entertaining spoof of Broadway.

In this production, I rediscovered Brooks’ clever humor. There is so much going on in this nonstop show that it simply overwhelms us. Can a show have too many laughs? Comedy returns to musical comedy with The Producers. Mel Brooks is outrageous as he attempts to offend as many people, places, nationalities, genders, and institutions as possible. He does it without regard to being “politically correct.” Thank God for Brooks’ chutzpah!

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Music  by Andrew Lloyd Webber

Lyrics by Tim Rice

Directed and Choreographed by Alex Sanchez

Musical direction by Ryan T. Nelson

At Marriott Theatre, Lincolnshire

Spirited classic Webber musical in Lincolnshire

 What are you going to get in The Marriott Theatre’s latest revival of “Evita”?  Star Quality…and plenty of it in the form of actress and singer Hannah Corneau.  Remember that name because you will likely be hearing it a great deal to come if the opening night performance in Lincolnshire was any indication.  Ms. Corneau simply sets the in-the-round stage ablaze with a stunning portrayal of the late First Lady of Argentina, which wholly invigorates Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s often-revived rock opera.  Just in case you were thinking this 38-year-old chestnut has nothing left to do or say, let’s take a look at some of the ways Director and Choreographer Alex Sanchez has dusted off the cobwebs and reclaimed this gleaming musical tiara.

One need only look to the current national headlines to realize the political and social significance of a piece chronicling the rise and fall of a low-born illegitimate woman who championed the rights of the poor and middle-class to become not only the most powerful and controversial woman of her country but a legend long celebrated postmortem.  Eva Peron was and is beloved by many, hated and reviled by others and the center of endless fascination and intrigue.  Even her tragic death at 33 was shrouded in mystery as her embalmed corpse disappeared for 17 years, resurfacing only slightly tarnished.  Only the pedestal was completed for a monument that had been planned in her honor, but in 1978 she re-gained the legend she was always destined for, as the title character in an all-sung musical by a young up and coming British composer and lyricist that might also be thought of as “Eva Peron Superstar”.

Webber and Rice took a boldly acerbic approach to the Cinderella climb of “Santa Eva,” funneled through the eyes of a cynical narrator and commentator modeled on the Argentine-born revolutionary Che Guevara.  Even as it opens with the death and a haunting requiem mass for the leading lady, “Evita” goes on to show us a fiery and determined woman who clawed, charmed and screwed her way to the top of a national heap.  There can be little doubt that the road to corruption is often lined with good intentions, and it is debatable that the Peron’s rule may have done as much harm as good for their country. 

What is especially evident was the amount of old-fashioned Hollywood gloss only an actress could bring to a blatant Socialist agenda.  Tim Rice’s scathing lyrics allow us to ponder the magical effects of charisma and stage management that frequently shrouded good deeds among corruption and self-glorification.  Hollywood film director Alan Parker gave us a kinder and gentler version of this tale as a showcase for mega-star Madonna in 1996.  The Marriott has now returned the work to its more cynical roots (as well as the original vocal demands) while also showing Juan and Eva Peron as soul mates who complimented and elevated rather than eclipsed one another.

It is the star-wattage performance of Hannah Corneau in the title role, however, that elevates the Marriott’s third production of Evita to the level of “must see theatre”.  Just as the real Eva Peron seduced a nation, Corneau completely seduces and captivates her audience.  If her soaring soprano belting does not win you over by itself then her acting surely will.  Every nuance of this striking woman’s facial expressions and body language reveal the intriguing woman Eva most certainly was.  The fact that she was cut down in the prime of both life and career make “Evita” a tragic heroine regardless of her political contradictions.  But there is nothing tragic in Corneau’s uncompromising and thrilling performance. 

Fully matching Corneau is the magnificent, masculine and commanding Larry Adams as her equally conniving partner and political climber, Colonel and eventual President Juan Peron.  This is a role that often gets left in the shadows of the heroine, but Director Sanchez wisely avoids that trap.  He interpolates “You Must Love Me” from the film adaptation, which effectively underscores Eva’s final descent and realization that she and Juan shared a love story born of mutual accommodation.  Austin Lesch’s reedy tenor is not in their vocal league, but he does present a delightfully animated, hilarious and frequently intense contrast as the antagonist Che.

Artistry abounds as one can expect from a Marriott Theatre production.  Rather than offering a standard issue cookie cutter version of Director Hal Prince’s landmark original, Alex Sanchez’s fresh and intelligent choices bring Evita’s story to exciting life again on stage.  Gone is the movie theatre opening with its ensemble suddenly plunged into collective morbidity.  Instead, Sanchez shows us a single family surrounding a radio that carries the tragic announcement and its very personal effect on Eva Peron’s devoted “Descamisados” or “shirtless ones”.  The rise and political coup of Peronista gets an equally clever choreographed arm wrestling match played out by a succession of contenders that reminds us the truth that politics is the art of the possible. 

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