Goodman Tidings to All: Yearly Tradition Begets a Dickens of A Christmas Carol -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens
adapted by Tom Creamer
directed by Henry Wishcamper
Goodman Theatre, Chicago
Thru December 27
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I have no ready explanation for why I have never before seen A Christmas Carol, especially at the Goodman Theatre where it has run during 38 holiday seasons and I have been a subscriber for about a dozen years.

The show has never been offered as part of my subscription packages, but nonetheless has long been on my radar at this time of year.

Being Jewish, I was never overtly indoctrinated to Christmas entertainment--among It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Story and It Happened One Night, only the first is a movie I saw in childhood; the rest only relatively recently--but while I haven't often sought it out, neither have I purposefully avoided it.

As part of my Broadway in Chicago Series, I've seen such stage shows as White Christmas, Scrooge! (a musical version of A Christmas Carol, starring Richard Chamberlain) and even the Donny & Marie Christmas show.

Still, I can't claim any particularly festive spirit nor cosmic convergence finally brought me to A Christmas Carol on Wednesday night. Yes, I currently work just two blocks from the Goodman, but so too have I during several previous holiday seasons.

But having noted a good review by the Tribune's Chris Jones, again extolling the work of Larry Yando as Ebenezer Scrooge, I just felt like I should see A Christmas Carol, sometime.

And abetted by a half-price, back balcony ticket--on a night when Goodman's demand-based dynamic pricing structure didn't elevate prices too dramatically--I now have.

I'm glad I did, and have no reason not to perceive this Goodman production was as good an introduction as I could want.

And while the basic conceit of a cold, petty, miserly man who is shown the self-destructiveness of his cantankerous ways by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future--with which I was basically familiar, though osmosis, Scrooge and various other derivations--could well have had considerable resonance at any point the avarice of the corporatocracy and/or callousness of political candidates affected me personally or societally, in this particular week I couldn't help but find parallels between Ebenezer Scrooge and Donald Trump.

Even Yando's oversaturated blond hair and orangish face seemed to conjure allusions to the man who has become contemporary shorthand for hatred, intolerance and inhumanity.

Written by Charles Dickens and adapted for the current Goodman production--I believe this is the 8th year of this rendition--A Christmas Carol is a powerful yet allegorically simple parable that suggests life is better lived and enjoyed when one exudes benevolence rather than malevolence.

Or, essentially: don't be an asshole.

And as the 2-hour show opens, Yando makes for a rather good one.

Or bad one.

But there is something slyly gleeful in his enmity, and when a child cracked up the audience by asking aloud, "Did he fart?" as Scrooge noisily settles into bed, Yando played along perfectly with the spontaneous moment.

Ron E. Rains, so good earlier this year as a different British father in Billy Elliot at Drury Lane Oakbrook, demonstrates why he has owned the Bob Cratchit role for years, while Joe Foust makes the ghost of Jacob Marley look and feel like an Ivan Albright painting (with credit also due costume designer Heidi Sue McMath).

With no ready point of reference, I'm not quite sure how to judge director Henry Wishcamper's interpretations of the three Ghosts--Travis A. Knight as a sculpted, angelic Past, Lisa Gaye Dixon as a voodoo-queenish Present and a mute, figural Future--but sense the choices might be a bit more outlandish than necessary, though mostly fun nonetheless.

A glimpse into a young Scrooge's marriage to a woman named Belle is an aspect of this iconic tale that was largely new to me, and Kareem Bandealy and Kristina Valada-Viars embody the characters engagingly.

Though Todd Rosenthal's scenic design wasn't as awe-inspiring as those I've seen at Goodman for other mainstage productions, it was substantial enough to--along with the excellent acting--make me glad I took my first Christmas Carol foray at the Goodman rather than via a smaller staging elsewhere.

I don't foresee that I will need to take in this show again anytime soon, especially with abundant theater options always available in Chicago.

But given its (ultimately) warmhearted themes, there's no reason not to appreciate A Christmas Carol, no matter if you're Jewish, Muslim, atheist or anything else.

And as part of the Goodman's longstanding tradition of colorblind casting for this play, it was perfectly pleasing to see actors of varying races, ethnicities and presumably religions playing roles likely once reserved for milky-white Britons.

Given his racist rhetoric, it is easy to sense Mr. Trump and his xenophobic followers might be none too pleased about this.

Which served to make me like this Christmas Carol even more.

'Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike' Doesn't Equal the Sum of Its Parts -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike

a recent play by Christopher Durang

Goodman Theatre, Chicago

Thru July 26

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One of the biggest holes in my rather vast theatergoing database is that I've never seen--nor read--any of the four masterpieces by Anton Chekhov.

Although The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard are all titles I've often heard, they aren't plays I've knowingly had (and/or took advantage of) opportunity to "Chekhov" my list.

Until Sunday night at the Goodman Theatre, I also had never seen anything written by Christopher Durang, one of the more prolific and noted contemporary playwrights. As with Chekhov, this has never been a matter of abject avoidance, rather just mere lack of acute occasion.

It's certainly possible that were I more familiar with Chekhov and Durang, I may have better appreciated the latter's Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, whose first three titular characters are adult siblings named after characters in Chekhov plays by their professor parents.

Throughout the 2012 play--winner of the Best Play Tony Award in 2013 for merits I failed to appreciate on this initial viewing--numerous references are made to the Russian writer's works, including some I probably missed if the titles weren't involved.

Being unfamiliar with Chekhov, it's also quite plausible that I failed to appreciate any thematic/stylistic similarities or narrative allusions that Durang may have been making.

But at face value, I found Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike to be decent, but not particularly compelling or special, with only late second act proceedings--of a nearly 2 hour and 45 minute play--raising my rating to @@@1/2.

Which isn't to say it isn't any good, as the somewhat absurdist--though not nearly as much so as Beckett and Albee--play has a number of good parts, including not just four but six well-crafted characters.

And the acting in the Goodman production, directed by Steve Scott, is universally strong, with Ross Lehman excellent as Vanya, a single gay man in his late 50s living with his 52-year-old sister, Sonia (played with nice nuance by Janet Ulrich Brooks) in their late parents' home in Bucks County, PA.

Though she doesn't get to use her great singing voice here, E. Faye Butler steals every scene she's in as Cassandra, a Greek mythology monikered cleaning lady-cum-psychic.

And in her second straight show at Goodman following The Little Foxes, Mary Beth Fisher makes for a convincing slowly-fading movie star in Masha, who is supporting her brother and sister in their fringes-of-society existence after years of caring for their folks.

After an initial dialogue between Vanya and Sonia, primarily about morning coffee, the play unfolds as Masha returns to the homestead with her boy-toy, Spike, who spends much of his stage time showcasing his sculpted physique. Incidentally, Jordan Brown, who imbues the non-Chekhovian-named Spike with deeply-ingrained shallowness, played something of a surrogate son to Fisher's character in White Guy on the Bus at Northlight Theatre earlier this year.

The final character is a pretty young neighbor girl, Nina (attractively embodied by Rebecca Buller), who serves mainly to exacerbate Masha's insecurities when it comes to Spike.

There is plenty of humor, including some laugh out loud lines (and I rarely LOL), one of the best static sets I've ever seen--by Scenic Designer Charlie Corcoran--and narrative explorations I could relate to involving unattached and unemployed but quite intelligent people of a certain age pondering their sense of place and purpose while seeking refuge among family.

And for those of us who often rue the erosion of shared experiences and memories in the ever-fragmented and increasingly superfluous digital age, Lehman as Vanya terrifically delivers a raging--if a tad overlong--rallying cry to the twentysomething Spike, whose crime of texting during a performance was actually echoed by the woman sitting in front of me. (See part of Lehman's monologue here if you wish.)

Then there's the rather preposterous--and oft used in promotional materials--stage imagery that has the cast frocked for awhile as characters from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

Throw in some rather touching and poignant moments near the end, plus a bit of voodoo, and it would seem that Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike has quite a good bit going for it.

Certainly the Tony voters thought so.

But by intermission, my mom and I, as well as a pair of Sunday night subscriber friends we bumped into, were congruently scratching out heads about the merits and meaning of what we had witnessed.

And while the second act took things up a bit, all told it was a rather middling conclusion to a somewhat "ehhh" season at the Goodman, rather than the recent Tony-winning highlight we hoped it would be.

Throw in a theater balcony that was absurdly arctic throughout Act I and Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike ended up being satisfying in part--and name--only.

Thematically Combustible 'Rapture, Blister, Burn' Smolders More Than Sizzles -- Chicago Theater Review

Theater Review

Rapture, Blister, Burn
a recent play by Gina Gionfriddo
directed by Kimberly Senior
Goodman Theatre, Chicago
Thru February 22
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At the end of Rapture, Blister, Burn, I turned to my mom--my longtime Goodman Theatre co-subscriber--and noted, more for my sake than for hers, that one shouldn't mistake aversion to actions & decisions of characters in the play as being an indictment of the quality of the play itself.

In other words, creating flawed, inconsistent, even unlikable characters may well be more true to life--and artistically impressive--than the portrayal of more easily embraceable individuals who might make for a user-friendlier play.

On the ride home, mom and I continued to discuss Gina Gionfriddo 5-character play--a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 2013--which focuses on feminism and the choices many women must make between having families and furthering their careers.

Thus, in sharing that I didn't quite love Rapture, Blister, Burn, I cannot be dismissive of it as anything less than a substantive, thought-provoking drama, with numerous LOL moments to boot. 

I just found it to be more a good play than a great one.

The narrative centers, at least initially, on the dichotomy between two former grad school classmates, Gwen and Catherine, played here by Karen Janes Woditsch and Jennifer Coombs, respectively.

Without revealing more than the opening setup, Gwen had dropped out of grad school and has long been married to Don (Mark L. Montgomery), another former classmate who had previously been Catherine's boyfriend, before she went to London for a year and he stayed behind. 

Gwen and Don have two sons, while as a noted feminist scholar with two popular books, the single Catherine is more accomplished professionally than either of them.

As Catherine has now reconnected with her ex-friend and former lover after years of shunning them, much of Rapture, Blister, Burn is ostensibly an exploration of the life choices women must often make. 

Although the script name drops famed feminists--including Betty Friedan--and that of noted anti-feminist Phyllis Schlafly, the play doesn't really espouse favoritism for either the family or career path, both which are shown to have their advantages, sacrifices, joys and despairs. 

The 2-act play's two other characters--a young woman named Avery (Cassidy Slaughter-Mason) who initially is a babysitter for Gwen/Don but then factors in more heavily, and Catherine's mom Alice (the always excellent Mary Ann Thebus)--further serve to make Rapture, Blister, Burn an intelligent piece that puts forth a variety of viewpoints.

The director, Kimberly Senior, is one of the best in Chicago, whose talents have now taken her to Broadway with Ayad Akhtar's Disgraced. I've seen several shows she's helmed--including The Overwhelming, The Pillowman, The Whipping Man and After the Revolution--and have liked all of them.

And the home interior/exterior set designs by Jack Magaw--who happens to be Senior's husband--are impressive, as is par for the course in the spacious confines of Goodman's Albert Theatre. 

So there is much to like and admire about Rapture, Blister, Burn, and this @@@1/2 (out of 5) review shouldn't be seen as negative, just not effusively positive. 

For though it moves along at a good pace and addresses an interesting topic smartly and humorously, I just didn't find the play in sum all that insightful nor compelling. 

And, while understanding all good dramas must cheat reality a little, I found some dramatic liberties hard to look past, such as Catherine's being allowed to teach a college class, at the spur of the moment, within her mother's home, for only 2 students. 

Gwen, who has boys of 3 and 13, seems coldly indifferent to her younger son in making a key decision within the play, during which she barely even mentions him. This seemed a bit askew to me.

And the way Catherine is written, it felt to me that Rapture, Blister, Burn is more soap operatically about lost love and heartbreak from a personal standpoint, rather than a universal fork-in-the-road study of female choices where work and family are at odds.

I didn't really expect--or want--Gionfriddo to ardently take sides, but I don't feel she posed the quandary and inherent debate quite shrewdly enough.

In the end, I was left with something of a clichéd sense that "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence." And, at least per the actions and decisions of the play's main characters, that it will always appear this way, no matter what choices one may make.