If you have a tough time sitting through an entire play, don't worry, Victory Gardens Theater is here for you. The One-Minute Play Festival presents about 60 plays that are—yes!—one minute long, and written by notable local playwrights. Check out our sidebar in Theater for the details.
$15
Stefanie Zadravec's new play features a magical black man who can teach us all a thing or two about hope. And a magical Rumanian lady with loads of folk wisdom. And a magical baby that glows in the dark like the moon. It's got an average couple whose marriage has been disintegrating since their daughter died. And a potty-mouthed young woman who's her own worst enemy. And it makes fun of hyperjolly restaurants like the one Jennifer Aniston worked in in Office Space. In short, it's a collection of gambits from the Endearing Quirk Playbook. So, why didn't I hate it? Well, one reason is that Zadravec deploys her endearing quirks with a good amount of grace and conviction. Far outweighing that, though, are Tara Mallen's simple, emotionally honest production and its no-bullshit cast. H.B. Ward and Meighan Gerachis, in particular, are painfully (I mean, painfully) good as the average couple. —Tony Adler $30
"Take a right and a left and knock on the door," says the usher, directing audience members to the room in which Red Tape Theatre is staging Young Jean Lee's 2010 riff on King Lear. Chances are many of us will be needing directions even after the show's started. Lee's theater piece doesn't go anywhere by regular routes. There's no real narrative build—just a fractured series of interludes, mostly involving the grown children of Shakespeare's elderly tragic figures, Lear and Gloucester. Wearing modern dress in James Palmer's smart production, Lear's daughters—Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia—and Gloucester's two boys—Edmund and Edgar—contend with their guilt ("I suck"), act out scenes using stuffed animals, and mutate into Superman or Big Bird, all while their fathers suffer through the storm outside. The kids' narcissism gets tedious before long, but the piece also affords insights into the anguished, paradoxical bond between children and their parents. —Tony Adler $25
Growing up girl these days means sometimes you're up, and sometimes you're crying alone eating hot chocolate mix. We're taught to shatter glass ceilings, but there are daily struggles that can feel more pressing. Leggings versus tights: Are either of them considered pants? Or: Were your multiple sexual partners "questionable," warranting an HIV test? The Neo-Futurists' latest, a thoughtful and wildly entertaining pageant parody created by Megan Mercier and directed by Stephanie Shaw, features five "grown-up" women on a baffled quest for the respect they think comes with being a "full-realized member of society." Through song, dance, acrobatics, and free-association ranting, each cast member enlists her singular talents and life experiences to present a wonderfully honest look at a loaded word: feminist. Pitting each woman against the others in a Vaseline-smile, Miss Congeniality-style cage match, The Miss Neo Pageant illustrates just how unattainable female camaraderie can feel when the sparkly bitch next to you keeps stealing your spotlight; contestant names like Miss I'm Not Gonna Cry provide evidence of how stressful the lady rat race can be. While judging each performance singly is decidedly not in the sisterhood spirit, as a critic I must introduce the hugely talented cast (most are Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind regulars), whose solo works each exert a creative energy and magnetic pull that's a pleasure to feel for someone usually stuck behind the fourth wall. Continue reading >> $20
The inaugural run of the festival will inhabit several historic locations in Uptown and Edgewater with a variety of performances including dance, theater, comedy, and live music. See sidebar for more information.
$5-$15
A lineup of storytellers share their experiences, with a different theme each month. May's theme is "Stories You'd Rather Die With and Secrets You've Never Told." $6-$8
Beforehand, I sign a waiver stating that I'm comfortable wearing handcuffs. A woman tells me this won't be like anything I've experienced before, and I'm not sure what she's getting at until ten minutes later, when I'm standing chained to the wall of a broom closet with a killer breathing down my neck, and only the supernatural ability to read his thoughts to save me. This performance bills itself as a haunted house: every 20 minutes a single guest wanders into a labyrinth of starchy black curtains, rooms filled with monsters, severed hands, and all manner of stage guns. It's the chance to play the superhero, who, through ingenuity, a keen sense of direction—and some suspension of disbelief—can defeat the villain. It's fun, if a bit hokey and transparent. Be warned, though, that you need to quickly figure out the rules—otherwise this is a performance you won't see to the end. —Hannah Gold $20
Steep Theatre Company's U.S.-premiere production of a British dramedy by John Donnelly deftly presents the British school system as an unforgiving farce. Under Jonathan Berry's direction, Jeff Award winner Caroline Neff is fantastic as Zoe, a naive young teacher assigned to babysit four teens the school would rather see pushed through the cracks headfirst. She's supposed to be teaching boundaries, but her own become fuzzy, with both laughable and dangerous results. The prudish title may be the best summation of which worlds collide here: "the knowledge" alternately refers to oral sex, what a teacher imparts to students, and the hundreds of routes a London cabbie must memorize to get certified. Though Britishisms abound, the play's vulnerable characters and thought-provoking power struggles translate well on our side of the pond. —Marissa Oberlander $20-$22
The key plot twist in this smart musical, based on the British TV show Dr. Who, arrives in the first five minutes. It's good enough to avoid spoiling, which makes the play, by brothers McKenzie and Justin Gerber, devilishly hard to describe. But here are the broad strokes: the musical numbers are giddy, the story is mind-bending, and director Emma Peterson walks the fine line between homage and satire. The concept has short legs, but this very brief Right Brain Project production doesn't try to go further than it should on them. If the TV series even remotely approximates the weird fun of this performance, I've got to hunker down with the DVDs. —Keith Griffith $10-$15
Beautiful acting and a strong sense of time and place flesh out Robert Koon's otherwise generic new one-act about an embittered Vietnam veteran's return to his Minnesota hometown. It's an election year; President Nixon is trying to wind down the war while still shoring up his conservative base. Director Kimberly Senior's cast includes Matt Holzfeind as unstable soldier Frank and Brett Schneider as his brother Joe, a state trooper, along with Joan Allen look-alike Greta Honold as Joe's wife, Julian Hester as a cocky college kid, and the remarkable Molly Glynn as a diner waitress swept into the conflicts. Glynn is only with the show through June 9, and her compassionate, finely nuanced performance shouldn't be missed. —Albert Williams $15-$32
Playwright Jeremy Menekseoglu presents a double bill that refuses to make the audience comfortable. His self-performed Ballad, a relentless vision of a paranoid, deranged man, contains moments of inspiration, but overall it's hard to bear. Why is it so difficult to observe madness? Why did I want to look away? In The Samaritan Syndrome, Menekseoglu takes on the parasitic relationship between patient and doctor, illness and health, pathology and caretaking. It's intriguing, but quickly devolves into a superficial conflation of psych ward and brothel, more confusing—at times annoying—than provocative. Are we meant to sympathize with these traumatized young women, or is this voyeurism? Is it meant to be social critique? Does the writer know that molestation is real—that it's neither sexy nor entertaining? We can't be sure; I'm not certain Menekseoglu is, either. —Suzanne Scanlon $17-$20
Curmudgeonly Norris rents rooms in his dilapidated house to wacky, troubled souls: hypochondriacal simpleton Jabsen, effete mute Porter, gold-hearted addict Tim, and dead-end philosopher the Shaygetz—plus some guy in suspenders everyone calls Boo Radley. They spend most of John C. Davenport's two-hour dramedy sitting around musing about Star Wars, skin cancer, and cookie jars, leaving little room for plot or character development. Davenport attempts to create suspense by introducing an officious city bureaucrat, Elaine, who's bent on determining the legal owner of Norris's house, but it's difficult to care about the potential eviction of such two-dimensional characters. Director Paul Tinley's Rebekah Theatre Project premiere is too stilted to generate much comedy. —Justin Hayford $20
"Invasion" in the title has a double meaning, referring to attempts by the American Nazi Party to march in Skokie in the late 70s and to a devout Jewish father's feelings of displeasure when his daughter becomes engaged to a Lutheran. But playwright Steven Peterson's sweet, shallow script never penetrates very deeply, emotionally or intellectually, and neither does Rachel Edwards Harvith's drab production. None of the performances are convincing—even the lovers feel more like friends. And as the supposedly fanatical father, who pulls both plot strands together, Neal Grofman doesn't deliver the intensity one expects from a man who's part of an armed Jewish Defense League-inspired militia, planning to shoot it out with the Nazis should they dare to show up. —Jack Helbig $10-$28
Directed by Anna W Menekseoglu, the play follows a man who frequents a mental hospital that doubles as a brothel at night, hoping to be rescued by a patient. Mature audiences only. $-17-$20
Rachel Axler's 2010 play is both a comment on the absurdity of parental expectations and a horrific fantasy of disappointment. As the new mother of a disabled child, Colby (Stevie Lambert) experiences rage, repulsion, and resentment that feel scary and real. But the baby here is ultimately little more than a sight gag—people live with disability, and with disabled children, in ways far more complicated than this script can acknowledge. It might be funny if this were grotesque allegory, but Colby's torment also reflects reality—postpartum depression happens all the time. As a result, Ka-Tet's production, wavering between minor sketch comedy and major melodrama, is marked by tonal confusion, which feels more offensive than interesting. —Suzanne Scanlon $15-25