Displaying items by tag: Aurora AdachiWinter

Let’s face it – in today’s world, “vaccinations” are a hot-button topic. More than ever, anything around health has become highly politicized, and for some, can elicit a deeply emotional reaction. Therefore, consensus is even harder to come by, and for some, even entering the debate feels impossible.

Despite all of that, leave it to Playwright Jonathan Spector to do the impossible and turn a play about vaccinations and consensus into a laugh-out-loud comedy. If you’re anything like this Opening Night audience, you might even find yourself gasping for air as you try to work through the laughter enough to absorb whatever witty one-liner comes next.

Spector’s Eureka Day takes place at a highly progressive private school where all decisions are made by consensus. However, when a mumps outbreak takes over the school, the Executive Board is going to find that artisanal scones are not always going to provide enough band aid for differing opinions.  Chaos ensues as parents clash in opinions over vaccinations and research, leaving the community unsure of how the school will ever recover.

Directed by Lili‑Anne Brown, Eureka Day is a witty, fast‑paced production presented by TimeLine Theatre in partnership with Broadway in Chicago. The work of Brown’s talented creative team immediately transports us into an elementary school library – particularly that of Scenic Designer Collete Pollard. The combination of picture books, colorful bean bags, and small chairs is sure to leave you feeling nostalgic as you think back to a time when you perhaps inhabited spaces like this.

Brown’s production features a strong ensemble with spot-on comedic timing. PJ Powers as Don, Eureka Day’s principal, elicited great laughter at this performance through his deep need to smooth over any debate. With every sigh or pause, he had the audience in the palm of his hand – wondering how he was going to try and navigate that particular rough patch. Jürgen Hooper expertly strikes a delicate balance with his approach to Eli, a character that walks a line as he tries to embody the stereotypical “white, woke man.”  Aurora Adachi-Winter has an authentic, genuine approach to her Meiko – the mom so many of us will recognize as the one who does not want to ruffle feathers, but also only has so much farther she can be pushed before she simply has to let her anger explode.

You might find that part of the cleverness of Spector’s story is its ability to invite an audience to empathize with both sides of the vaccination debate. Much as one might expect – not every parent meets eye to eye. As the school navigates the decision on whether or not to mandate the mumps vaccine for their students, we receive a window into the personal experiences of families on both sides.

In one particular scene, it is only Suzanne (Rebekah Ward) and Carina (Gabrielle Lott-Rogers) on stage. It is clear at this point that while Carina is pro-vaccination requirements, Suzanne is very much against. There is a great deal of silence, and the discomfort can be felt in the audience. While I do not wish to give away all of the details, I can say this – both actors treat their sides of the debate with a delicate grace. There is an openness and generosity from both Lott-Rogers and Ward that allows the audience to understand where they are each coming from. Regardless of which side of the debate on which you fall, you might just find yourself moved by the scene – and the ability for both characters to let down their walls and help each other understand their side of a highly personal topic.

A witty script with a lot of heart makes Eureka Day an absolute must-see. The topic alone is timely, and the ensemble brings it to life in a way that will stick with you for days.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Eureka Day runs through February 22, 2026 at Broadway Playhouse – 175 E. Chestnut Street. For tickets and information, see the Timeline Theatre website.

If you were to take a survey of teenagers and young adults to determine which social issue they’re most interested in seeing addressed onstage, mass shootings would be near the top of the list. Though the kind of incident in which an ideologically fanatical and/or severely mentally ill individual massacres a random group of people is not how the majority of murders occur, or the type of shooting Chicago public school students are most likely to encounter, it is something I’ve found that students have a strong desire to discuss. Of course, discussing something is quite different from discussing it intelligently, and the “conversation” around school shootings is filled with so much nonsense and has so little legislative effect that people have become jaded enough for Heathers: The Musical to exist (and be funny). But that’s where playwright Caitlin Parrish comes in. Working with director Erica Weiss, Parrish has adapted the ancient Greek story of Antigone into a new play which not only allows its characters to be complex and intelligent, but is an interesting story in its own right, and worthwhile for adults to see during a public performance.

The Antigone imagined by Sophocles was one who sacrificed her life by defying her uncle Creon to give her treacherous brother a proper burial. The one imagined by Jean Anouilh in 1944 switched her motivations so rapidly that Anouilh’s Creon excused himself by saying she simply wished to be martyred and did not care what principle she ostensibly died for. Parrish’s Antigone, named Sophie Martin (Olivia Cygan), has no desire to sacrifice herself at all. The favorite child of a widowed Republican senator running for re-election as a moderate, high school senior Sophie has just cast her vote in her first primary election when shots ring out at her school. Upon learning that her brother, Ben (Matt Farabee), was the killer and concluded his massacre in suicide, her first thought is that she hopes his body hasn’t been left alone, and her second thought is to hope the media does not release his name until the polls are closed. Sophie has made supporting her father’s career her purpose in life, and is deeply disappointed in Ben for what she perceives as a calculated attempt to kill their family socially, along with his more direct victims. In this version, he is buried quickly, in an unmarked grave outside of town, but Sophie is troubled at how easily her father, Ryan (Coburn Goss), and sister, Chloe (Becca Savoy), join everyone else in writing him off as evil.

Sophie’s discomfort increases when her father declares that he wants teachers to be armed, and implies he would have killed Ben himself had he known what he was planning. She’s also blindsided by how suspicious her classmates are of her—to have not known Ben was a psychopath means she must either have been stupid or been covering for him, and they know she’s not stupid. As her father’s plan to rebuild his public image as Ben’s most prominent surviving victim proves surprisingly successful, Sophie finds herself disagreeing with him on the wisdom of widespread access to firearms. He claims that she is simply trying to avoid acknowledging what Ben was so he won’t reflect poorly on her, but Sophie believes whatever was wrong with Ben isn’t as easily addressed or as relevant to any other mass shooting as cracking down on guns.

Parrish’s script sometimes strays close to letting characters speechify, but generally, she motivates their responses quite well. The nine-member ensemble all acquit themselves marvelously, with Cygan expertly managing the difficult task of keeping a somewhat objectionable and high-handed protagonist clever and active enough to maintain the audience’s interest. Higher on the sympathy scale is Savoy’s sardonic Chloe, who, as a lesbian from a Republican household, had relied more upon the school than her family for a social network, and is more upset by having that taken from her. Goss’ senator is no caricature, but he doesn’t display the same level of conflict over what to do with Sophie as most Creons. His claim that he specifically is needed in Washington and he therefore must be willing to sacrifice his family seems to have little basis, but the playwright allows him to sound reasonable despite disagreeing with him.

The school, too, is host to a wide array of richly developed characters. Stephanie Andrea Barron plays Sophie’s friend Janette, who is from a far less-comfortable background and already had mechanisms for coping with violence; her boyfriend, Jayden (Joel Boyd) never liked Sophie in the first place, perhaps saw her as a rival, and is the kind of person who displays his books so everybody can be impressed by what he’s reading (it’s Ta-Nehisi Coates’s Between the World and Me). Greg (Ty Olwin) is a profoundly hurt friend of a victim who finds the Martins unspeakably vile, while Brianna (Aurora Adachi-Winter) is a survivor whose brief appearance in a video at the beginning of the play instantly establishes an unsettling tension. It was wise of Parrish to grant the chorus so much individuality—the community feels much more authentic when its differences can be acknowledged, and the play has a heart which is sometimes missing in modern remountings of Greek tragedies. Representing her and Weiss’s own generation are a teacher and a newscaster played by Kristina Valada-Viars, one of whom, being in her mid-thirties, declares herself too old to lead the cause of gun control, and the other of whom outright admits she has been faking her routine shock and grief for a while.

Courtney O’Neill’s set design contains a nod to what the Athenian theatre is supposed to have looked like in the time of Sophocles, but it also allows room for Joseph A. Burke’s projections. Ben appears in the form of a vapid video diary he kept which endlessly frustrates the other characters by providing very little help in figuring out his motivations, but his posthumous presence on social media becomes a major recurring plot point. Parrish used the premise of Antigone, but since the point of the play is to make teenagers feel empowered, one can see long in advance that it’s not a tragedy. Parrish and Weiss also aren’t shy about using the play to advocate for stricter gun regulation, or possibly elimination, but the context of Steppenwolf’s encouragement of discussion and feedback prevents this from feeling propagandistic, and they present a reasoned argument with respect for the other side. Based on the differences between how Goss and Valada-Viars’s characters are represented, they seem harder on themselves, which, when ninety percent of the public supports stricter background checks and is unable to move Congress, gun-regulation advocates perhaps ought to be. 

One of the most encouraging things about this production is that there exist people who understand the myriad viewpoints that exist surrounding mass shootings and respect young peoples’ experiences and concerns. Acknowledgement isn’t progress in itself, but it is a precondition to progress that is often lacking, and Weiss’s cast display genuine empathy. This show isn’t meant to condescendingly educate teenagers about themselves; it’s a mirror held up to the people most effected by an issue, and for them and everyone else concerned about mass shootings, The Burials is highly recommended.

Public performances of The Burials are on October 14 at 7:30 pm, October 15 at 3:00 pm, and October 22 and 3:00 pm and 7:30 pm in Steppenwolf’s upstairs theatre at 1650 N Halsted Ave, Chicago. For ticket information, see Steppenwolf.org.