Chimerica: Waking from a Dream

I will be perfectly frank with you, readers. I was not prepared to review a show of the caliber of TimeLine Theatre Company's Chimerica. Thus far, I have been able to provide what I believe to be a good analysis of what was attempted versus what was accomplished for each production I've seen. I've seen shows of fantastic value and shows that had me wishing I did not have to remain for their entirety. Director Nick Bowling's Chimerica surpasses them all, and although I find words hardly suffice to describe the absolute dream that was this production, I will try, if only to illustrate that this is a show very much worth seeing.

I do not use the word dream lightly – the ending of the show is much like waking up. As the final words and actions fade and the lights come up, the applause is slow to come – not because the moment of conclusion is unclear, but because the audience needs time to arrive back at the present. We need time not only to reawaken, but also to process what we've seen.

From the initial moments of the show, we are witness, via several screens arranged around the room, to news coverage of the events of June 4^th, 1989 in China, when military gunned down a group of protesting students. The lights come up to a reporter, Joe Schofield (played by Coburn Goss) discussing the urgent and exciting changes that are occurring in China with his editor, Frank Hadley (played by H. B. Ward). Goss plays his character as entirely excitable about the whole thing, which is perhaps accurate – as Joe witnesses a young man walk to stand defiantly in front of army tanks proceeding down the road, he says breathlessly into the phone, “I think I'm about to watch him get shot.” The defiant man, carrying two mysterious shopping bags, will spur the plot of the rest of the show as Joe Schofield returns over two decades later filled with questions about the fate of his “hero.” Norman Yap plays Joe's friend Zhang Lin, who initially appears to the audience's American eyes as some kind of a joke. His voice is thick with accent, and often he plays pranks on his friend Joe. At first, Yap's portrayal of his character seems tasteless and borderline-offensive – until, as the show progresses, the audience comes to understand that Yap's initial portrayal is meant only to be how Americans view foreigners. When Joe departs, and we see Zhang Lin existing in China without the American bias of Joe's perspective, we come to understand that he is far from the funny little man he initially appears to be. Yap's portrayal of this tormented and conflicted character struggling with current social injustice and past trauma, desperately flailing to make a difference in a country that monitors his every move, is phenomenal. Clever staging of props conspire with Yap's already tense disposition as Zhang Lin's ghostly deceased wife (played by Janelle Villas) haunts his every move.

This beautifully contrasts with Joe's excited frenzy to dig up the secret of the lost hero of his younger years, and often the audience is witness to the two characters' lives oceans apart. It is here that Goss' dogged performance of a man chasing an exciting story becomes really impactful – as Yap's Zhang Lin is tortured by both the past and present, Goss' Joe Schofield is cluelessly investigative, absorbed by the pleasure of a really good story, while effectively ignoring that which happens before his very eyes. Goss plays a brilliantly naive and selfishly driven man. For Joe, it is clearly only the story that matters, even as Zhang Lin reaches out to him for help multiple times throughout the show.

While Goss and Yap are the clear stars of the show, they can hardly take all the credit for the acting. This cast takes so naturally to their roles that after the audience becomes absorbed into the story, the actors hardly seem to be acting at all. What it seems most like, in fact, is that the audience is witness more to a memory than a dream. Every bit of media coverage that flashes across the screen fights for attention as much as the action on-stage, showing how easy it is to gloss over events which are truly horrendous, how easy it is to understand an event from the sensationalized storytelling of outsiders rather than the experiences of those present. The screens, the dual stage-sets of China to one side and America to the other, the audience witness both to the on-stage story and the reactions of those in the seating across the alley-style stage, all worked together to create a sense of building urgency, of desperation. It is a show comprised of so many pieces that for some time seem separate and engaging entities, but which build into something bigger than the audience could imagine.

Urgency builds as the pieces come together, as the media screens reflect coverage of the events that lead up to the climax, and the audience is witness to what may in fact be a reflection of a man on what events happened to bring him to the point at which he ends. Joe Schofield and Zhang Lin's stories could not end more differently, and yet be more perfectly intertwined. Their contrasting perspectives reflect this.

When the lights finally go down, the only thing left to the audience – the only certainty – is that we must not be slaves to following the story which seems most sensational. Upon waking from the dream of this show, that is the truth we are left to swallow.

Too Much Busey

'Goodness gracious, what will Gary Busey do next?' is the running question of David Carl's “Celebrity One-Man Hamlet,” currently playing at The Shakespeare Theater.  Insanity reigns supreme as crazy antics and clever usage of social media run rampant. The Busey touch to Shakespeare's “Hamlet” makes for a fun ride, at least for the first twenty minutes.

Creators David Carl and Michole Biancosino must be given credit – this show is strikingly original. The notion of Gary Busey himself playing any part in “Hamlet” is a hard one to grasp. This show casts Carl playing Busey playing every role. If this is bewildering to read, it will be ever more exciting to witness.

Carl's Busey is in and of itself a work of art. For seventy-five minutes, the audience is subjected to a madman telling a classic story, talking to the audience, talking to himself, and often just making things up. It will not be the “Hamlet” you are accustomed to. Gone is any sense of solemnity, every crazy Shakespearean plot twist accompanied by the silliness of Busey's antics. Carl has changed his voice, his facial expressions, his movement, and possibly even his mindset to play Busey, and he does so unwaveringly for the entirety of the show with an energy that is to be envied.

The set is a diverse reflection of the chaotic nature of the show. Scattered across the stage are the instruments of the famous actor's trade (at least for this production): a guitar, a table, a knife, and a wide array of puppets. These range from cloth hand-puppets to a little set of cardboard cutouts. Carl's improvisation skills are very much at play here as Busey loses objects in the disorganized mess, but as soon as he is finished with any single figure, it is discarded behind him back into the chaos once more. Perhaps the set is intentionally a representation of Busey's mind, and, given how Carl plays him as a man incapable of focusing on a single moment or concept for too long, the stage setup is astoundingly effective. It matched Busey's haphazard personality to a tee, and immersed the audience in what we imagine Busey must experience on a day-to-day basis.

Carl and Biancosino have thrown together a vast array of antics for this one-man extravaganza. In scenes with many characters, Busey will set up the chaotic puppet show. However, when three or less characters occupy a scene, Busey plays each of them himself, applying different physicality and voice to each character with a phenomenal mastery. Combine that with the fact that Carl is playing Busey playing each of these characters, and you will be doubly impressed. The characters rarely speak the written words of Shakespeare's traditional “Hamlet,” instead speaking Carl's interpretation of Busey's interpretation of the script. Busey produces a guitar and performs Hamlet's soliloquy to Ophelia in song. Every famous soliloquy begins with Busey announcing it as such and performing the first few lines as written. Then, lines from other famous productions will begin to seep in, until he is expounding from such shows as “Independence Day.” Carl does a wonderful job seeping in and out of coherency, typical Busey style – an audience member might get the sense that they aren't supposed to keep up with his rambling, and are merely meant to be swept along by it. Even so, there may be a method to the madness – the show most closely resembles a parody of a Sparknotes summary.

The difficulty is that the originality of the show doesn't last, and the jokes, amusing as they are, quickly grow old. Far too often, innocent words are taken from the context of Shakespeare's play and turned acronym to reveal their “true meaning.” This was hilarious the first several times it was done, but it was done too often before the show was halfway over, and was continued just as regularly throughout its second half.

What's worse, while the representations of Busey's insanity were all varied and amusing on their own, once tossed in with the one-dimensional Busey-esque frenzy for seventy-five minutes, it became too much. As the show dragged on, little gems would appear to help the audience through, such as Busey's sudden inability to perform a scene that was too difficult for him emotionally, or the scene in which Ophelia is laid to rest. In the first gem, we finally see some variety from Carl's Busey as he rapidly transitions from the manic cheeriness to a dark depression. In the second, Carl delights by playing Hamlet on stage across from the on-screen Laertes (also played by Carl's Busey) in a beautifully choreographed boxing scene.

These gems were unfortunately few and far between, and the excessive Busey quickly became too much of a good thing. It is a reasonably-priced show I can only strongly recommend to hardcore Busey fans – however, given the originality of this production, I do look forward to seeing where this style of show goes next.

"The Seagull": An Immersive Experience

If you are lucky enough to witness the Artistic Home's rendition of Chekhov's "The Seagull," the misery you are likely to endure at the hands of the Russian playwright may be mollified by the sheer immersion you will experience.  At the Artistic Home, the pain does not belong solely to the characters - through clever stage arrangement, set design, and direction, the pain also belongs to an audience rapt by insightful and intense performances.

Walking into the Artistic Home theater in Chicago, one finds oneself in a room with a stage down the middle and raised seating areas to either side.  The expanse from one audience section to the other is vast, and the empty stage with benches set to the side as if in storage lends a sense of isolation that will continue throughout the entirety of the show.  Indeed, as characters step onto the stage for th first time, the audience sighs in relief, but that satisfaction is sadly short-lived.

Even so, the set itself is very pretty.  The bone-white benches surrealistically remind one of death or cold; the table looks to big for the room, but make no mistake: this is intentional, for at the table is where the juiciest pieces of plot occur.  Unroofed rafters decorate the ceiling, tantalizingly offering the freedom of the outside world while simultaneously acting as prison bars, sealing it away.  The set offers something nice to distract the audience - however briefly - from the tragedy at hand, while subconsciously forcing them deeper into the conflict.

Mostly the audience's attention will be drawn to the action in he abyss of the stage.  Often, two characters will bicker, and will be in constant movement, allowing the audience a glimpse into the mindset of each of them at different times.  Take, for instance, characters Masha and Semyon (played by Laura Lapidis and Kaiser Ahmed).  As members of a courtship that turned into an unloving marriage, they bicker incessantly, with Semyon constantly professing his love and Masha constantly pushing him away.  While on the surface their arguments seem silly and unfounded, as a character will turn to face one audience or the other, we are allowed to see what they are thinking.  According to Cody Estle's direction, at that moment, their plight becomes the most relatable in the world - the audience is drawin into the pain each character is feeling.  Every little disaster is silly in its commonality, yet heartbreaking as soon as the audience witnesses the pain on the character's face.

Disasters are upsettingly commonplace in "The Seagull."  Depression and angst abound as every character becomes the annoying relative or flawed best friend.  The abuse famous actress Irina (played by Kathy Scambiaterra) inflicts on her son Konstantin (played by Julian Hester) serves only to remind the audience of every selfish and willfully ignorant person they've ever known.  Scambiaterra turns Irina into a cajoling, stereotypical queen bee, delighted in her own success while taking as a person affront any criticism.  Hester's Konstantin is the perfect emotional, rebelling son who only longs for his mother's attention.  He does not enter as a winning character, but rather as a controlling and clingy man obsessed with young actress Nina (played by Brookelyn Hebert).  However, as every interaction with his mother unfolds and we witness Konstantin break down multiple times, we come to understand how much he is struggling.

The story gets no easier from the first half.  While at intermission we are left with two characters seemingly chasing an unlikely happiness together, the second half begins with that happy illusion shattered.  Nina, an aspiring actress with too-big dreams of fame and fortune, is now suffering from insanity.  While much of Nina's anxious actions seem to be written in by the ever-particular Chekhov, at least some credit must be given to Hebert for her fantastic display of an emotionally distraught woman.  Hester outdoes himself most notably when he speaks of Nina's failures.  By the devastated-yet-distant look on his face we come to understand that he still loves her.

Do not expect happiness from Chekhov's "The Seagull," my friends.  You will only be disappointed.  Even so, the misery that this show expounds can be forgiven by the mere fact that you will be immersed in the isolation and depression of the story - a part of it, rather than a mere witness.

Fatal First Act

If the care that had been applied to the set of 'The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window' had also been applied to the actors' performances in the first half of the show, it would have been an excellent show to see. Dazzling blue and bohemia details decorated the stage, drawing the audience into a world of philosophy and imagination, of chaos and beauty. And yet, the instant the show began, that beautiful illusion was squandered, and for half of the production – although it felt significantly longer – the audience was assaulted with the same zealous philosophical shouting from character to character, with rare exception.

It's a shame, because the show itself is strikingly relevant. Written by Lorraine Hansberry, the same genius mind who penned 'A Raisin in the Sun,' 'The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window' covers such issues as suicide, racism, sexism, and homosexuality. Conflict rises in the first act as Sidney Brustein attempts to remain nonpolitical on his newly-purchased newspaper while supporting his supposedly-nontraditional candidate for office. However, this conflict falls flat. Certainly, Sidney's conscientious struggles are nothing to scoff at in the beginning. An unbiased, nonpolitical newspaper is rare and refreshing, and a daring thing to hope for – and yet, it was difficult to care about Sidney's newspaper, or politics, or his failing marriage with his wife Iris (with whom he had no chemistry to begin with), because his tone never changed. He was always passionately railing against something – it was hard to keep track of what – in the same philosophical tone of pretention.

It would appear that the directors were attempting to duplicate conversations Hansberry might have had with her own friends, but instead they only served to isolate the audience from understanding or keeping up with the dialogue. Surprisingly, the only consistently endearing character the audience could relate to in the first half of the show was Iris' racist and snobby older sister, Mavis. Miriam Silverman takes the audience away with her performance, presenting perhaps the only continuously honest character. Perhaps this was intentional. Near the end of the first half, Sidney's life begins to deteriorate, taking with it the curtain of pretention he seemed to cling to throughout the first act. As the rest of the characters reveal heartbreaking flaws and experience serious conflicts themselves, it becomes clear that each overly-zealous philosophical arguer was lying – to themselves and to each other. Mavis never deceives herself on what she is: a flawed woman with flawed ideals, who is, in her way, trying to be better. The difference between the characters from the first half to the second was chilling. The topple of their ideals hit home as every audience member witnessed their own lives shattered by the reveal of simple truths. However, if I had not been required to stay, I might never have seen the second half, so alienated was I by the first.

The second half was everything I expected from a Goodman show. Suddenly, characters gained depth. Suddenly, we were witness to their pain as every supposed hero was dragged through the muck and revealed to be just as human as we are – no better, and perhaps far worse. As characters experience loss, pain, and betrayal, we are shown a mirror of ourselves: liars, swimming through things and trying so very hard to be above the world instead of a part of it.

Even so, the first act was very nearly this show's ruin.

About the Author

Hellooooo Theater-Goers!

If you are stumbling upon this website for the first time, welcome.  If you are a veteran reader, welcome back!  Here, I will post reviews on a series of four shows throughout the summer, utilizing my understanding of critiques through classwork and through experience in the theater itself.  Let me tell you a little about myself and my experience in the theater community:

While I am fairly new to the acting community as a whole, I have a great deal of experience in the theater world itself.  I have acted in a total of four shows to date, and seen countless more, contributing to set design and other aspects of the shows along the way.  I even got the wonderful opportunity to co-write and direct a show at the school which gave me my theater debut.

Since falling into the theater world, I have taken several theater-related classes which have not only educated me about the performance aspects of the theater world, but also the more critical, less-obvious aspects.  Reviews are not just about performance, after all.  They also take into account the visual and auditory decisions made by directors and designers.  Each of these elements come together to create a beautiful work of art (or, sometimes, a disaster), and must all be considered when reviewing a show.

I hope you can have the opportunity to enjoy some of the shows I will review here.

-Therese