Despite Strong Performances, Goodman's 'Venus in Fur' Fails to Scintillate in Its Attempt to Stimulate -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Venus in Fur

a recent play by David Ives

directed by Joanie Schultz

Goodman Theatre, Chicago

Thru April 13

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Venus in Fur didn't do much for me.

I realize that is about the tritest possible way to critique a theatrical production, in this case a play by an acclaimed writer that was well received Off- and on Broadway and is being staged in Chicago by the often terrific Goodman Theatre.

But it is because I have such esteem for the Goodman, respect for playwright David Ives and admiration for the only two cast members--who are on stage for the entire 100 minutes--that I won't try to detail what it is I didn't love about Venus in Fur.

Perhaps I just didn't "get" Ives' multi-layered messaging in creating a play that largely involves the reading of a script for an imagined play called Venus in Fur, based on 1870 novel Venus in Furs by Austrian author Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, which inspired the term Masochism (derived from the author's last name).

Maybe I just tended to drift, especially during the accent-inflected script reading between the play-within-the-play's writer/director Thomas (played by Rufus Collins) and the auditioning actress conveniently named Vanda (Amanda Drinkall).

I appreciate that Ives is a very witty writer so it's quite possible I failed to appreciate his insightful commentary about sexual politics, and just plain old sexism, in theater and in general.

Likely demonstrating the latter, I applauded the lovely Drinkall's talent and effort as she spent most of the show in various stages of undress.

And though I can't say I ever cared enough about either character to try to deduce their truths and motivations, Collins seemed to be quite stellar in the role of Thomas, as written.

With the Goodman's typically impressive scenery, designed by Todd Rosenthal, I don't doubt Director Joanie Schultz interpreted the material well, and to be fair, I sensed that other patrons in the balcony on Sunday night enjoyed the show considerably more than I.

I admittedly don't know that I can intelligently delineate the difference between plays--and productions--I greatly enjoy and ones I simply endure, and I realize that some I may more acutely appreciate may merely be more accessible, not necessarily better.

So I will not say that the Venus in Fur is bad, nor will I suggest that it is not worth your while. 

But as simplistic as it may sound, it just didn't do much for me.

Amazing? Perhaps Only to Idol Worshippers, as Solid 'Joseph' with DeGarmo and Young Fails to Reach Biblical Proportions -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
Starring Diana DeGarmo and Ace Young

Cadillac Palace, Chicago

Thru March 30

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Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is a fun, entertaining and rather short--under 2 hours--musical.

As the first publicly performed collaboration between composer Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyricist Tim Rice, its 1968 origins make it perhaps just the second rock-tinged musical--after Hair--and its pastiche of various musical styles deserves points for originality, especially given its creation date.

From an history of musical theater perspective, it is also interesting to note how Webber & Rice would evolve after Joseph with Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita and Phantom of the Opera (Rice didn't work on the latter) also being about rather iconic figures.

I doubt either Webber or Rice would call their somewhat hammy musical chronicling the biblical narrative of Joseph--son of Jacob--being cast out by his brothers their crowning achievement, but it's easily understandable why the show holds considerable appeal for groups of high schoolers and retirees alike, and many folks in between.

The Cadillac Palace was nearly full on the current tour's first night in Chicago on Tuesday, and with most of the balcony crowd bestowing a standing ovation, I can imagine many attendees doting high praise in telling friends and coworkers about the show. 

Photo credit on all: Daniel A. Swalec

So this is not a review meant to dissuade anyone interested from attending, disregard the affinity of others, nor rain on the parade of anyone intrigued by now-married American Idol alums Ace Young and Diana DeGarmo, who play Joseph and the narrator, respectively.

Though not quite one of the very best, Joseph is a good musical and there's nothing bad about this production.

However, in my estimation, there is nothing particularly spectacular or special about it either.

If I didn't know who Young and DeGarmo were--and I haven't ever really watched Idol--I easily could have perceived the two leads being fairly inexperienced, run-of-the-mill non-Equity performers. (To be clear, this is an Equity tour, and both stars do have legitimate Broadway credits.)

Both are clearly good singers, but neither seems to have the kind of first-rate Broadway-caliber timbre that dazzles way up into the balcony with line-drive power.

Played by ex-teen idols aplenty--from David Cassidy to Donny Osmond--Joseph is a role that demands a good bit of overt personality, and though Young is fine (and certainly impressively fit given many shirtless scenes), he is also rather nondescript.

Similarly, the melange of musical stylings--country, Elvis, calypso, disco, etc.--offers several performers the chance for their "Master of the House" moment;  i.e. the opportunity to really raise the roof on their one song of the night.

Yet while no one was subpar on these numbers, there was also nobody sensational enough to make me really sit up and take notice. 

Only "Those Canaan Days" sung by Joseph's brothers was noteworthy for its verve and exuberance.

Even Young's prime solo spotlight, "Close Every Door," failed to sparkle like I've seen it done by others. 

Incidentally, earlier Tuesday I renewed my Broadway in Chicago "balcony club" subscription for another season and--with six shows for just $99--I feel it is one of the entertainment bargains anywhere.

But while many at Tuesday's performance undoubtedly experienced a "Wow! factor" due to seeing an impressively-staged Broadway musical at a downtown Chicago theater, as a whole I felt this version of Joseph was inferior to musicals I've witnessed at Marriott Theatre Lincolnshire, Drury Lane Oakbrook, Paramount Theater Aurora, Light Opera Works, Chicago Shakespeare Theater, Theo Ubique and elsewhere around Chicagoland.

And with an increasing number of shows touring for the umpteenth time and/or featuring non-Equity casts,
the once unmatched allure of Broadway in Chicago presentations has routinely slipped below the stellar musical theater work being done by many local production houses. 

I applaud the patronage of live theater of all levels and types, and if you have a chance to see this run of Joseph for a ticket price you find reasonable, by all means "go go go." (Check HotTix for discounts.)

But if you've seen a great production of this show before, this one likely won't outdo it.

Heck, even the current design of Joe's famed Technicolor dreamcoat just didn't seem all that amazing.

Late Night Singalong: "Human Jukebox" Gerry Grossman Well Worth a Song

Concert / Theater Review

Gerry Grossman

Human Jukebox Reloaded

Greenhouse Theater Center

March 15, 2014

(Ongoing residency)

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As I arrived at the Greenhouse Theater Center late Saturday night--on the weekend before St. Patrick's Day--it was impossible not to notice scores of people, most presumably much younger than me, seemingly enjoying themselves at (and outside) numerous bars along Lincoln Avenue. 

Yet, and I've undoubtedly long been an old fogie at heart, not only wasn't I green with envy, but after the show by a sixtysomething named Gerry Grossman--a.k.a. the Human Jukebox--at which I was, by a wide margin, the youngest of 18 total attendees, I couldn't help but think that we had a lot more fun.

At least per my sense of it. 

Admittedly, I have always loved hearing great music much more than pounding down beers, green or otherwise, and acting as if I was 21--even when I was 21--but for those of us at the Greenhouse, the blast from the past was a delight with far more than nostalgia present. 

Before seeing his current show--which is more a one-man concert than it is theater, although it takes place in one--I had never heard of Gerry Grossman prior to getting an advertisement for discount tickets from Goldstar. 

Especially with Goldstar tickets only $6 plus half that in fees, I couldn't help think that this would be something that I would like and my friend Dave--who has encyclopedic knowledge and appreciation of songs from the '60s far beyond my own--really should love. 

Though I rarely relish being in the midst of hipster-infested Lincoln Park on a Saturday night, the combination of St. Patrick's Weekend and a plethora of crater-sized potholes on Lincoln Ave. made March 15 theoretically even less desirable. Yet earlier dinner plans in the city made it well-suited for meeting Dave--who lives nearby--for the 11pm show. 

Even just the lobby of the Greenhouse felt like a comfortable cocoon amidst the swarm of green-clad revelers. And after the venue's executive director, Jason Epperson, welcomed the crowd by noting that the particular room we were in is the oldest existing storefront theater space in Chicago--operating since 1969, it held early David Mamet plays back in the day--the affable Grossman effusively welcomed those of us who made the effort to get there. 

Not touching his guitar for the first 15 minutes, Grossman giddily rambled, observing that "my peeps have aged with me," letting us know how happy he was to have returned home from a gig in Huntsville, Alabama and sharing that his wife was among those of us in the small but enthusiastic audience.

In addition to subsequently learning that Grossman is an enormously talented guitarist who can deftly play and sing virtually any old rock song that is shouted at him, I gleaned that he grew up in Glencoe, went to New Trier West (some years before Dave), was part of the great Chicago folk scene at Earl of Old Town, once almost joined the Lovin' Spoonful and has often opened for the Temptations, among others.

But while I would imagine a memoir show from Grossman would be quite entertaining, the bits of biography he shared in cheerfully introducing songs, honoring requests and answering questions didn't comprise the main component of his 100-minute performance.

No, he and the collective "we" were there to share an immutable love of great rock music. And not of the current kind, as Grossman pretty aptly proffered that "new rock and roll sucks."

Though both the songs and stories likely vary a good deal from night to night, a part of the show in which he sings lyrics from golden oldies--such as "Under the Boardwalk" and "For What It's Worth"--and lets the audience continue them seems to be a staple, as is likely a brief segment running through classic TV Theme Songs and another showcasing some of the "weirdest songs ever written."

While all of this was a lot of fun, I liked the portions that were even more free form, when Grossman would--instantaneously and with virtuoso guitar abilities--play songs from artists mentioned by the audience (The Monkees, Four Seasons, an impressive extended Beatles medley, a near complete rendition of Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone," etc., etc.).

Click image to access purchase page on Goldstar.com; free registration
is required. Discount tickets also may be available on HotTix.org

I appreciated his mixing in a number of tunes that went beyond my musical vocabulary, including "Red Rubber Ball" and "Turn Down Day" by The Cyrkle, "Nashville Cats" by the Lovin' Spoonful  and "Five O'Clock World" by the Vogues, all of which Dave knew well. 

And although on the way in, Epperson estimated that the "Human Jukebox" would unplug after about 75 minutes, not only was it well past that when Grossman honored my callout for "Bus Stop" by the Hollies, but after 12:30 or so he remembered that an hour previously I had mentioned the Kinks when he asked for some of our favorite bands.

At my request, he delighted with "A Well Respected Man" and "Sunny Afternoon," and threw in "Tired of Waiting for You" for good measure.

Now, I would guess that most of those assembled in their finest greenery at nearby watering holes couldn't imagine that 18 mostly suburban fossils singing along to a shaggy old dude with a guitar could be having anywhere near as much fun as they were, let alone more.

But I'll take Gerry Grossman and his crowd any day.

For even without celebrating the Irish with "Gloria" or "Here Comes the Night," I was a whole lot happier to be with Them.

Unique Take on 'Into the Woods' Doesn't Make for a Truly Storied Production -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Into the Woods
a musical by Stephen Sondheim
and James Lapine
Staged by the Hypocrites 
Mercury Theater, Chicago
Thru March 30
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Some might suggest I did things backwards.

Rather than prepare to see Into the Woods by re-familiarizing myself with the original cast recording, watching a DVD of the show's late '80s Broadway production and reading through lyrics and notes in Stephen Sondheim's excellent Look, I Made a Hat compendium BEFORE I went to see the Hypocrites production at the Mercury Theater, I did so after.

So I would acknowledge that a little advance homework may have helped me to better understand the narrative of interwoven fairy tales, appreciate all the insights of Sondheim's lyrics and more fully embrace the numerous metaphors contained within.

But then, it's not like I entered the Mercury Theater for the Hypocrites' staging of Into the Woods completely uninitiated. I do own the DVD and have watched it in full or part over the years. Back in 2001 I saw a community theater production of the show. I have the cast recording and listened en route to the Mercury. And while I didn't know every lyric of every song going in, I was well-acquainted with many including the great Prologue with its "Into the Woods to..." refrains, "It Takes Two," "Ever After," "No One is Alone" and "Children Will Listen."

And while undoubtedly outranked by millions, I am very much a Sondheim aficionado. In fact, or at least opinion, there is no living practitioner in any art form that I hold in higher esteem (although Bruce Springsteen and Paul McCartney are greater personal favorites).

Thus, despite rather middling reviews from the Tribune's Chris Jones and others--though there were also some raves--I took advantage of a nearby Meetup and half-price tickets on HotTix to attend on Sunday without much advance planning.

Initially I didn't have any overt aversion to the cheeky approach, schoolyard setting, small cast of actors mostly playing multiple roles, minimal costuming--everyone wore jeans or leggings, even those playing princes, princesses & witches--and interpretive scenery, in which balloon-kebobs served as trees in the "woods."

The singing, by Sara Bockel (principally Cinderella), Aubrey McGrath (Jack, of beanstalk fame), Hannah Dawe (Little Red Riding Hood), Joel Ewing (the Baker), Allison Hendrix (the Baker's Wife), Hillary Marren (the Witch) and Kate Harris (Cinderella's stepmother), was uniformly solid, often stellar.

But barely into the second act of the near 3-hour affair, I couldn't wait for it to end, and when it did I couldn't help think that perhaps Into the Woods was just a Sondheim musical I didn't care for as much as Sweeney Todd, Sunday in the Park with George, A Little Night Music, Follies, Company, Passion, Pacific Overtures, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Merrily We Roll Along or Gypsy and West Side Story (the last two being ones for which Sondheim only wrote the lyrics, rather than the music as well).

The songs I knew were great sounded great, but most of the others didn't really ensnare or move me. And I was confused enough by the plotline to have to check Wikipedia at Intermission and show's end to learn that I indeed had missed much.

If I had written this review right after seeing the performance, I would have said that I'd have preferred an hour of simply hearing the best songs rather than having sat through the whole thing.

But given my love of Sondheim--from whom nearly every lyric furthers the storytelling and offers keen insight--I was troubled by how mediocre I had found Into the Woods, especially as I recalled it being considerably better, even without recently revisiting it.

So first I asked my sister Allison, also a musical theater aficionado but not such a devotee of Sondheim, for her opinion of Into the Woods (she did not attend the current production with me, but has seen the show live and in recorded form).

She said she loved Into the Woods and that it was her favorite Sondheim musical. She also noted that several of the less-famous songs, like "Giant in the Sky," were really great.

This inspired me to go into the proverbial woods to watch the DVD, listen to the cast album, read the lyrics, acclimate to all the songs, digest Sondheim's annotations, learn more online, better appreciate the metaphors, appreciate the depth, meaning & beauty in the songs and the wonderful book by James Lapine, consider Chris Jones' critique of this production and realize that I, in fact, think Into the Woods itself is rather fantastic.

Thus, I'll cop to the possibility that had I delved deeper prior to Sunday's matinee, I might have better appreciated both the source material and the unique adaptation of it by director Geoff Button and his cast.

But while appreciating that truly embracing Sondheim's sophisticated musicals often requires some work--as in the case of Sunday in the Park with George, which I love but others don't--I believe a great musical should entertain those approaching it even for the first time.

In other words, homework shouldn't be mandatory, and it's not like I came as a complete neophyte.

So I will split the difference with the long-estimable Hypocrites. I won't specifically criticize the production or any of the choices in the way it was staged, and I genuinely applaud the efforts of all the performers and everyone involved.

But whereas I went in hoping this rendition would further my appreciation of Into the Woods and Stephen Sondheim, it did so only by initially lessening it.

So go see it if you so choose, but perhaps like me, your fondness for the the genius lurking within these fractured fairy tales will come more happily ever after.

Powerful Commentary of 'Tribes' is Well-Heard, Though Steppenwolf Run Can No Longer Be Seen -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Tribes
A play by Nina Raine
Steppenwolf Theatre, Chicago
Run ended
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I can't recommend that you go see the production of Tribes at Chicago's typically terrific Steppenwolf Theatre.

This isn't to imply that I didn't like Nina Raine's thought-providing play, which weaves a variety of themes around a hyper-literate British family whose three grown children include a deaf son, portrayed by an actor who is hearing-impaired.

While the family--and particularly patriarch Christopher (the always excellent Francis Guinan)--is so self-righteously smug as to make the drama acutely off-putting early on, in its entirety Tribes is quite estimable and worthwhile.

But while I was intrigued enough by Chris Jones' stellar Tribune review to want to see Tribes since it opened in mid-December, a variety of conflicts--including the malice of Mother Nature--precluded me from getting to it until Saturday...the last day of its run.

So I am not being derisive when I say that I can't recommend that you see it at Steppenwolf, just factual.

Hence, there isn't much need to prolong this review. But as the relatively recently hatched Tribes--it debuted in London in late 2010--is likely to wander its way through local theaters around the world for the foreseeable future, I will suggest that while it may be a bit shy of a masterpiece or "must see," for a reasonable price the play should be worth anyone's while.

Particularly if you can see it with the type of scenery that Steppenwolf employed (a multi-level house reminiscent of the theater's premiere of August: Osage County) and a terrific cast, as was the case here.

Though it felt a bit strange to hear Guinan adopt a British accent to play a character that felt like a more educated and snootier version of Archie Bunker, the erstwhile Steppenwolf ensemble member pulled off a challenging role. Another ensemble member, Molly Regan, was also very good, if a bit too shrill at times for my tastes.

And first-rate were all four actors playing the next generation, with Daniel (Steve Haggard), Ruth (Helen Sadler) and Billy (Garrett Zuercher at the performance I saw) being grown children who have returned to live at the family's home while struggling with a sense of place, purpose, parental approval and their own particular issues.

Billy is deaf and has been raised to lip-read and speak, rather than use sign-language. While the play begins with just the family members profanely and profusely berating each other, it gets much more interesting when Billy falls in love with Sylvia (wonderfully played by ensemble Alana Arenas), the daughter of deaf parents who has been gradually losing her own hearing.

Though the family--particularly Christopher--never references Sylvia being black, they nonetheless demonstrate their "tribalism," bigotry and intolerance by ruthlessly deriding her use of sign-language, which Billy chooses to adopt.

With hopes that some may get a chance to see Tribes, outside Chicago or somewhere down the road, I won't go further into storyline specifics. But with my take on it aided by a post-show discussion, despite the ugliness--if not outright malevolence--of Christopher's character, I came to appreciate the way Tribes broaches on family dynamics, struggles of grown children to find their way in the world and the use of language (including among those who use non-verbal communication).

And with impressive work by Garrett Zuercher, a deaf actor playing the role handled by John McGinty for most of the run (the latter is pictured with Arenas in the photo at right), Tribes does a great job of individualizing those who are hard of hearing.

I can't say I've ever given much consideration to the differences in perspective between those who were born deaf versus those who lose their hearing, or how, why and to what effect some sign and some don't. But the play smartly informs how there are varying levels of hierarchy and acceptance within the "deaf community," with clear similarities to other groups of people with certain similarities but many more unique differences.

So if you have seen Tribes, I would be happy to discuss it. And if you didn't catch it at Steppenwolf, while I don't think you need to kick yourself, there is an argument to be made--and this show is full of them--for at some point appreciating what it has to say.

Sumptuous New Production Unmasks My Phandom -- Chicago Theater Review: The Phantom of the Opera

Theater Review

The Phantom of the Opera

Cadillac Palace, Chicago

Thru March 2

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I'm as surprised as anyone about my giving The Phantom of the Opera a @@@@@ review.

Although I was wowed upon seeing the famed Andrew Lloyd Webber musical in 1993--when a trip to the theater was a great rarity for me--I was rather disappointed in seeing the show in 2004 and again in 2007.

I can't recall my specific dissension, but think I think I found the scenario creepy, much of the music middling and the whole affair rather bloated.

But in seeing a new touring production at the Cadillac Palace on Tuesday night--with my friend Paolo, who considers Phantom his second favorite musical behind A Chorus Line--I was somewhat astonished to find just about everything rather delightful.

Perhaps the revamped staging, though still quite grand, makes the proceedings seem less Gothic and ghoulish, especially as the Phantom abducts his ingenue Christine and transports her by boat to his secret lair.

Photo credits: Matthew Murphy, except where noted

Or maybe in seeing the insipid Ghost the Musical just a week prior, I was primed to better appreciate the vastly superior scenery, script, score, singing, orchestrations, costumes, acting, pacing and direction exhibited by Phantom.

I still wouldn't say I like the source material as much as that of Les Misérables, nor others among my very favorite musicals, but can't deny I found the current production to be a complete treat.

And, of course, Paolo loved it. 

Though according to their listed credits in the Playbill, neither Cooper Grodin (The Phantom) nor Julia Udine (Christine) have Broadway experience--and while I would guess that this is a tour utilizing Equity (actors union) performers, I see nothing to confirm it--if you told me that both stars had held the same roles on Broadway or in London's West End, I'd have no reason to doubt it.

Both were spectacularly well-sung and looked great--Grodin may have seemed a tad young, but this isn't even a quibble--as did Ben Jacoby (Raoul, Christine's love interest), who came directly from the Marriott Theatre in Lincolnshire.

At that fine venue, last year I saw Now & Forever, a revue of Andrew Lloyd Webber showtunes--he's the composer but never the lyricist; Phantom's lyrics are by Charles Hart--and in it an actress with substantive Broadway credits, Linda Balgord, sang a beautiful version of "Memory" from Cats. Here she plays Madame Giry, the ballet choreographer and seeming confidant of the Phantom.

So the cast was superlative, the sets were astonishing--if any lesser than previously, I couldn't tell--and the orchestra sounded fantastic, especially in delivering the powerful overture.

Photo Credit: Alastair Muir

But though I knew several of the early songs--the Overture, "Think of Me," "Angel of Music," "The Phantom of the Opera" and "The Music of the Night"--were pleasant and powerful, after turning to Paolo and saying, "Well, at least the first 45 minutes were great," unlike in viewings past, for whatever reason, the rest of the show didn't let me down.

Sure, a couple of the songs are more pedestrian than their companions, but that's true in every musical. But though I somewhat expected to, there was never a point where I thought to myself, "This really isn't that good."

Quite the contrary, in fact, which made it a bit confusing why the balcony at the Cadillac Palace was way undersold, only two weeks into a run slated to go another six.

Of course, with The Phantom of the Opera being the most successful musical--and live entertainment event of any kind--of all-time (it's been running in London since 1986 and 1988), and having played Chicago on numerous national tours, it's conceivable that many theater lovers are all "been there, done that."

And perhaps, "Didn't even love that."

But whether you are an avowed Phanatic--as Paolo assuredly is--or someone like me, who hasn't been blown away in the past, or even one who has never seen Phantom live on stage, this spectacular production (directed by Laurence Connor, with a new set design by Paul Brown) is well worth (re)discovering.

And with tickets as low as $25--and for a giant production like this, the balcony is certainly fine, if not even preferable--and better seats discounted on HotTix, a couple could easily take in Phantom for the price of a movie or two.

So who knows, if in the past I was wrong or right, but I was captured anew by the music of the night.

---
Here's a promotional clip from Broadway in Chicago, although not with the current cast: 

'Ghost' Isn't Quite Ghastly, but I Still Say "Boo" -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Ghost: the Musical

Oriental Theatre, Chicago

Thru January 19
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It's like deja boo all over again.

In the fall of 2011, I did a stint as a proofreader at a downtown Chicago ad agency specializing in retail sales circulars. When the assignment ended at Thanksgiving, I took advantage of my friend Paolo having been sent to London for work and put up in a corporate flat he said I could share.

So thanks also to my frequent flyer miles, I went to London (and also Paris) on the cheap, and while Paolo's days were spent working, at night we frequented West End theaters. We saw Michael Jackson's Thriller Live, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and Ghost: The Musical.

At the time, Ghost was rather new in London—and yet to arrive on Broadway for an abbreviated run—and while the reviews I saw weren't glowing, they also weren't quite awful.

I can't say either Paolo or I were devotees of the movie Ghost, starring Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore, but it was a rather popular and somewhat storied film. So although there was another new musical in London—Matilda—that was garnering great reviews, the allure of the movie and seemingly passable reviews led us to buy discount TKTS for Ghost on what was my last night in London.

As soon as the lights came up for intermission, Paolo turned to me and said, “This is the worst musical I've ever seen.”

I couldn't disagree.

Cut to January 2014. For the last several months, I have been working at the same ad agency I was at in
late 2011. It is again a freelance proofreading stint, but has lasted a bit longer this time. And on Wednesday night, Paolo and I (and our friend Sarah) again saw Ghost, as a national tour of the poorly reviewed and quickly shuttered Broadway version.

Photo credits: Joan Marcus

And at intermission, Paolo turned to me and said, "This is still the worst musical I've ever seen." 

To be fair, although I can't readily think of a musical I thought was worse—perhaps Blood Brothers, which both Paolo and I despised on separate viewings in London—neither he, Sarah or I felt Ghost was unwatchable, leave-at-intermission bad.

It is a lousy musical, and all the more disappointing due to the pedigree of its creatives—Ghost movie screenwriter Bruce Joel Rubin wrote the book and some lyrics; the music & lyrics are credited to Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics and schmaltz-pop tunesmith Glen Ballard; the show has been directed since its London debut by noted British director Matthew Warchus, whose credits include the wondrous Matilda, which I saw while in London in 2013—but in an acute sense, Ghost wasn't awful to the point of making me angry.

There is no real depth or soul to any of the material onstage, but the performances from the non-Equity touring cast at Chicago's glorious Oriental Theatre were earnest, if not exceptional.

Katie Postotnik who plays Molly, the Demi Moore role from the film, is rather attractive and likable, and while her voice doesn't quite seem to have the tenor and timbre of a Broadway star, the songs she is given to sing don't do her vocals any favors.

In a show where the songwriting largely seems facile, the worst culprits are probably Molly's solo numbers. It's a shame that Stewart (who helped pen "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" and other Eurythmics hits) and Ballard (co-writer of such hits as “Man in the Mirror” for Michael Jackson, “Hold On” for Wilson Phillips and “You Oughta Know” for Alanis Morrissette) couldn't produce more distinctive songs about sorrow and perseverance than the bland “With You” and “Nothing Stops Another Day,” respectively.

I would suggest that on some subversive evening, Postotnik substitute the Sondheim chestnuts “Losing My Mind” and “Not a Day Goes By” for the two tunes mentioned above, if only to see how it feels to sing songs that insightfully convey emotions, rather than merely reference them.

Complementing Postotnik is Steven Grant Douglas, sufficient but nothing special as Sam, the Patrick Swayze character. Granted, I was sitting way up in the balcony, but he didn't seem to bring anything distinctive to the role.

Nor for that matter did Robby Haltiwanger as his friend, Carl, who—well, I won't ruin a 24-year-old movie or even its miserly stage musical. But his smarm seemed to be lacking the proper amount of pretentious slickness.

As psychic Otta Mae Brown, the role that won Whoopi Goldberg an Oscar, Carla R. Stewart is rather fun, though pretty much acts exactly as you'd expect her too and veers to the edge of racist caricature. But if her songs were a bit better, she could really be the standout in this show.

Which is kind of like being the prize winning Shar Pei in an ugly dog contest.

But while Ghost the Musical is pretty much a dog of a show—and this review is actually kind compared to the bashing Chris Jones bestowed in the Chicago Tribune—it does have some interesting new tricks.

Echoing the world premiere London production, this version of Ghost uses more videography than any
musical I've seen, largely to establish scenery on the streets and subways of New York City.

Though at times, the video backdrops seem cheesy—and cheapen the experience of seeing live theater in a large downtown venue for up to $100 for prime seats; fortunately as subscribers, we paid about a tenth of that—but there were times when the videography was rather ingenious, particularly when it evoked a New York subway car in motion.

So while I wouldn't really recommend it to anyone—even readily-available discount tickets on HotTix will set you back over $50 including fees—Ghost isn't a complete abomination from beginning to end; it's just subpar, with even the movie's famed pottery scene being oddly short-circuited.

But the non-Equity touring cast doesn't make the show seem any worse than I recall it in London, and there's certainly nothing about the efforts of anyone onstage that I would criticize.

It's not even impossible to perceive that occasional theatergoers with non-discriminating tastes might even adequately enjoy Ghost the Musical (though I also imagine those who love the movie might not want to mess with their recollect).

But as for Paolo and me, we're still haunted.

50 Brides for 50 Cousins: Strawdog's 'Big Love' Introduces Mee to Someone New -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Big Love
a play by Charles L. Mee
Strawdog Theatre Company, Chicago
Thru May 25
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Whenever I travel, I always appreciate--and often heed--when a friend says something like:

"I have a cousin who runs a store in (so and so). You should check it out."

or

"There's an awesome ice cream place over near (place). Try to get to it."

While I enjoy talking to locals and, certainly, eating great ice cream, following suggestions like the above tends to be most fulfilling simply for taking me off the beaten path.

What I discover along the way is often more gratifying than tourbook recommendations, and may even be better than the acute reason for taking the diversion.

This isn't a perfect analogy or explanation for why I saw Big Love at Chicago's intimate Strawdog Theatre on Friday night, but definitely has some relevance.

Although I see loads of theater of all kinds and levels, at venues large and small in Chicago, the suburbs and beyond, I doubt I would have much noticed, let alone seen, the play by Charles L. Mee had a friend not been in the ensemble (and one I'd only recently reconnected with at that).

But I'm glad I did.

And not just because it afforded me the pleasant opportunity to see my friend both onstage and off.

I'll let Wikipedia provide an overview of Big Love author Charles L. Mee, and defer to the Chicago Tribune review by Kerry Reid for a bigger picture assessment of this production.

In fact, it's only because of Reid that I'm aware that the play is "Mee's takeoff on Aeschylus' The Suppliant Women."

Though I was not heretofore familiar with Mee, or even beyond the name, Strawdog Theatre Company, I genuinely enjoyed Big Love for a variety of reasons, including not in the least, pure entertainment value. 

The show centers around 50 sisters who flee Greece for Italy in order to avoid a mass forced marriage to their 50 cousins, whose prior excursion to America has added to their loutishness; they too wind up in Italy.

As performed in Strawdog's intimate second floor space at 3829 N. Broadway, this cast of Big Love includes only 12 brides and 12 grooms--unless I've miscounted--with most of the action revolving around three of each.

Stacy Stoltz, Michaela Petro and Sarah Goeden excellently embody the primary brides-to-be; defiant but wistful Lydia, seething yet self-aware Thyona and unapologetically romantic Olympia. They are matched, and to some extent paralleled, by Nikos (John Ferrick), Constantine (Shane Kenyon) and Oed (Kyle A. Gibson).

Other than to reveal that upon arriving in Italy, the runaway brides seek refuge with the help of heretofore unknown locals Giuliano (Paul Fagen), Piero (John Henry Roberts) and Bella (Cheryl Roy), I think it best to leave the details for you to discover, even if merely through freely reading Big Love on Mee's website.

While the format and composition of Big Love leans toward the unique compared to most plays I see and enjoy, it was neither too abstract nor avant garde to digest comfortably.

The fine acting, from the core characters through the entire ensemble, makes the drama pleasurable to watch over 95 minutes, as very much does the accompaniment of pianist Dane Halvorson, who performs a variety of love songs before, throughout and at the end of the show. And while this isn't to be confused with a musical, an offbeat vocal rendition of "Call Me Maybe" and a P.A.-pumping "Highway to Hell"--among other anachronistic choices--infuse Matt Hawkins' production with imagination, charm and verve reminiscent of Baz Luhrmann movies.

Though I wouldn't really venture to guess the meaning Mee was intending for me to derive from the narrative--which I understand director Hawkins to have adjusted a bit--I appreciate the way it caused me to think about how love, marriage, freedom, choice and/or the lack thereof intersect in various societies, including our own.

Given that Big Love premiered in 2000, I can't surmise if Mee was reflecting on any specific cultures that keep women subservient, those in which arranged marriages are the norm (to happy and unhappy outcomes), places in which love among cousins isn't considered icky and/or the much-in-today's-news (to me, non-) issue of gay marriage, but I can see how Big Love can take on different shapes and colors when viewed through one's own prism. 

If nothing else, it's yet another excellent example of the type of skill and dedication regularly and impressively on display at storefront venues (and the like) throughout Chicago--in Strawdog's case for 25 seasons now.

Especially with low-priced tickets available for most performances through HotTix, even if I only fortuitously stumbled upon it myself, I'm happy to suggest that Big Love is well worth your time and affection.