Displaying items by tag: Michael Dalberg

“We see what we choose to see… And yet, one of the first questions we have to ask ourselves as reasoning beings when it comes to the question of ‘truth’ is… What can we see? What did people witness? What do they remember?”

Director Tristan Brandon kicks off his director’s note with the above. What is true, and how do we know? So often we see what we want to see, and when we do not understand something, we fill in the blanks with that which makes it familiar.

The story of Erzsébet Báthory (Laura Jones-Macknin) is a fascinating one – one that many likely do not know. I certainly knew little before attending Idle Muse’s world premiere. Having recently lost her husband, Báthory, as a woman, is left with few options.  Her son, Pál Nádasdy (Xavier Lagunas) certainly does not have any interest in being Count. He would prefer to travel and do his part fighting in the impending war – much to his mother’s dismay. Báthory is stuck alone managing a castle in the 1600s – a time where women were certainly not trusted to lead anything without a man. And so, we return to Brandon’s quote:

“We see what we choose to see.”

As Báthory struggles to maintain a staff and keep everything afloat, the surrounding towns resort to gossip. A woman simply cannot manage anything without a man, and therefore, there must be a dark reason. If maids and never come out, what other possible solution is there but murder? Rumors of murder can so easily transform and grow. Suddenly Báthory is the Blood Countess. She clearly must be drinking the blood of her staff to stay young and in power. A countess who just wants her son to come home slowly becomes a monster that everyone fears – and surrounding rulers feel the need to take down.

It is in this mystery that Playwright Michael Dalberg found his play, and from there, a story of blood, murder, and even a little magic thrown into the mix. Out of a desire to stay alive until her son can come home, Báthory begins to drink the blood of her staff. If they never leave the castle, how is anyone to know? With immortal beauty and youth, she can keep everything afloat until the Count returns. However, not everyone is willing to allow a woman to maintain her power – particularly with all the rumors regarding how she is managing to do so. The question is, can she manage to keep up the facade until she is reunited with her son? More than that, will she manage not to lose herself in the process?

Brandon’s artistic team transforms the black box space – creatively drawing the audience into the dark horror. Lighting Designer Laura J. Wiley and Sound Designer L.J. Luthringer collaborate to heighten the dramatic tension in their designs. The space lives in a constant darkness – with undertones of red thrown into the mix that foreshadow the blood to come. Luthringer creates a heartbeat for the play that quickens with tension – particularly as Báthory’s choices become increasingly more villainous. With the intimacy that Scenic Designer Jeremiah Barr invites, you might find it hard not to lean in and feel the nervousness alongside the characters surrounding Báthory.

Living within this world is a cast of strong ensemble members. Jones-Macknin at the helm does not disappoint as Báthory. She strikes a balance, allowing the audience to feel for her long lines while at the same time fearing what she might do next.

With striking design and a talented ensemble, The Blood Countess brings a hidden history to light. If you are one who hungers for spooky stories as we shift into the fall season, Idle Muse might have one just for you.

*This review is also shared on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/!  

The Blood Countess runs through October 11 at The Edge Theatre Off Broadway. For tickets and information, see the Idle Muse Theatre Company website.

Recommended

The Tempest is Shakespeare’s final play, and one could argue that he saved the best for last, skillfully presented by Idle Muse Theatre Company. At intermission I overheard two young women expressing surprise at ‘how they can do so much in so little space!’  Clearly, they were habitues of traditional venues like the Goodman and Nederlander theatres, and I simply had to interrupt them to sing the praises of Chicago’s numerous and thoroughly excellent storefront theatres. As I’ve often said, theatre takes on a special glow when you’re watching from within the players’ pheromone clouds.

As with most of the Bard’s works, The Tempest uses many characters to enact a labyrinthine plot. Prospero (Elizabeth MacDougald ^she/her) is the former Duke of Milan, deposed and exiled with his infant daughter Miranda (Caty Gordon ^she/her) to this remote and (seemingly) uninhabited island, where he has raised his child while evolving himself into a powerful sorcerer. As the play begins Prospero is using his magic to create a raging storm to wreck the ship carrying the despots who usurped his dukedom: his conniving brother Antonio (Orion Lay-Sleeper^he/him), King Alonzo (Jack Sharkey ^he/him), with his son Ferdinand (Boomer Lusink ^he/him), and Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all ….

When Prospero arrives on the island, he finds that, contrary to expectation, it is inhabited, by Caliban (Jennifer Mohr ^she/her), whom Prospero rescues from the spell previously laid on him. Unfortunately, Caliban retaliates this largesse with brutish behavior. Prospero, fearing Caliban’s conduct might injure the growing child Miranda, enslaves him.

Prospero meets yet another islander, Ariel, a cosmically powerful air spirit whom he frees from captivity. Ariel shows more gratitude than Caliban, protecting both Prospero and the child, now seventeen years old (but still, of course, an infant in her father’s eyes).  Ariel is also handy for whipping up tempests at sea and befuddling shipwrecked aristocrats. Director Brandon cleverly casts Ariel six times: Mara Kovacevic ^she/her, Gary Henderson^he/him, Connar Brown^she/her, Emely Cuestas^she/her, Jacque Bischoff ^she/her, and Emily Pfriem ^she/her. These six capering sprites are all equally adroit in the use of magic and music, and all beholden to Prospero for their … well, not actually freedom, as they’re still indentured to Prospero, but at least they’re no longer trammeled in a tree.

[Are you getting the idea that Prospero is a bit of a control freak (to use a common Shakespearian term)?]

Ariel(s) leads Ferdinand (the King’s son, remember?) to meet Miranda, and the two adolescents fall instantaneously, fervently and immitigably in love (as you do). Elsewhere on the island King Alonso, with his friend Gonzalo (Xavier Lagunas ^he/him), his brother Sebastian (Eric Duhon ^he/him), and Prospero’s insidious brother Duke Antonio are having vile and nefarious adventures whilst the heartbroken King searches for his son. Ariel(s) saved these folks from the sinking ship, but also made sure to bespeckle them far and wide across the island. Court jester Trinculo (Joel Thompson ^he/him) and his friend the King’s butler Stephano (Michael Dalberg ^he/him) fall in with Caliban, whom they woo with the barrel of wine Stephano serendipitously rode to shore from the wreck.

There! Got all that? I’ve by no means covered all Shakespeare’s storylines, threads, scenarios and subplots, but you can get those from Cliff’s Notes; I’m here to talk about all the other artists.

As is to be expected from Idle Muse, all were excellent. I admit I’ve come to rather take for granted that the talent on a [small!] Chicago stage will be extraordinary; in particular I trust Idle Muse not to disappoint me. From MacDougald’s Prospero to the six Ariels; from Boomer Lusink’s lordly Ferdinand to Orion Lay-Sleeper’s rascally Antonio, every character was enacted deliciously. Though the story began with darkness, rolling thunder and vast waves, humor began peeking through early, and by Act II we were all laughing.

Those who’ve been reading my reviews know that I don’t pretend to be fair and even-handed; I always have favorites!  In The Tempest my first and foremost fave was Ariel #2, Gary Henderson. His Ariel couldn’t help standing out on account of being the only cis-male Faerie (sic), but I really just liked his style – dancing about the stage with bells, on hands and knees barking at miscreants, snooping into secret plots … whatever Henderson’s Ariel was up to, he was a delight! I also loved Joel Thompson’s Trinculo; paired with Michael Dahlberg’s Stephano they were a swilling and snarfing version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, with terrific comedic timing.

Director Tristan Brandon ^he/him not only directed but adapted this production of The Tempest as well. In his splendid From the Director note he reminds us that The Tempest is about relationships and family, begotten and chosen.  The Tempest illustrates that, as humans can’t help being human, with human virtues and failings, the most critical aspect of relationships is forgiveness: we must be incessantly forgiving each other – and ourselves – for being human. Brandon’s Assistant Libby Beyreis ^she/her was also Violence Designer, appropriately, acknowledging the dichotomous but related aspects of violence and forgiveness. Balancing these was Maureen Yasko ^she/her as Intimacy Designer.

The set was perfect, spare yet evocative, under the combined attentions of Scenic Painter Breezy Snyder ^she/they with Scenic Designers Laura J. Wiley ^she/her and Tristan Brandon; these two, with Artistic Director Evan Jackson ^he/him, also designed the props, and Laura Wiley ^she/her brought the puppets to life.

[BTW, I hope you’re noticing names being repeated. When a relatively small company is mounting grandiloquent and multidimensional productions (like anything by Shakespeare!), considerable multitasking is required. Thus one sees much overlap, as well as inclusion of cast members, in Production.]

I was enchanted by Jennifer Mohr’s ^she/her costumes and Jacque Bischoff’s ^she/her makeup. The Ariels were captivating with twinkle-lights under tulle skirts and transcendental makeup. Prospero’s magical coat was stunning, and I loved that many of the costumes had corset-style lacing in back; creates such a sense of glamorous antiquity (ancient glamor? whatever)! Trinculo sported mismatched socks, with dissimilar shoes as well. The core values of Idle Muse Theatre Company are True, Timely, and Transporting; between them Mohr and Bischoff made each character totally True.

The same can be said for Laura J Wiley’s ^she/her Lighting Design which, with Kati Lechner ^she/her directing L.J. Luthringer’s ^he/him sound and music compositions, created a multisensory domain accordant with all the disparate scenes, from a raging storm to a quiet family home and to the Ariel(s)-bewitched wildwood, certainly fulfilling the core value of Transporting. Much of this I attribute also to Stage Manager Becky Warner ^she/her and her Associate Lindsey Chidester ^she/her. Pulling all these diverse variants together into a smooth, tangible, inclusive Truth can only happen when excellent direction of a superlative cast is so masterfully Managed as to unite all elements.

Idle Muse’s third core value is Timely, and what could be timelier in the American election year of 2024 than a production that transports us to the Truth? It’s tempting to draw comparisons between fictional and political characters, but it’s unnecessary. The Tempest’s fundamental, essential message is about forming and maintaining relationships: between parents and children, teachers and students, leaders and followers. Forming and maintaining relationships is basic, but never simple, and always requires mutual and correspondent forgiveness.

I recently encountered a new word that I like very much: Ubuntu, or ‘I am because we are’. This term originates from the Zulu and Xhosa languages, and it loosely translates to ‘humanity towards others’. In honor of Bilbo’s and Frodo’s birthdays (as well as my own!), I offer it here in Elvish (Ariel-ish?) Tengwar script:

The Tempest is 2½ hours long, including one intermission.

The Tempest plays at The Edge Off-Broadway through October 20; last nights’ performance was sold out so I VERY Highly Recommend you get your tickets early!

I found DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE to be weird.

Well, it’s supposed to be weird, right? It’s a weird and spooky story about Dr. Henry Jekyll, a respectable, conventional Victorian physician, liberating his dark side: a persona named Edward Hyde, whose cruel and amoral exploits prove ruinous. Yeah. Weird. Perfect for the shuddersome All Hallows Eve season.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE as a novella in 1886; expanded to full-novel length in 1891.  There have been hundreds of stage and film adaptations of the tale, from its first stage presentation in 1887 to films starring John Barrymore (1920), Spencer Tracy (1941), Boris Karloff (1953), and many others.

Here is a new adaptation, written by Michael Dalberg and produced by Idle Muse Theatre Company, in which the issues of class and gender, intimacy and violence that clash in the original story are amplified. Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde ran in 1971 as a B-movie; Dalberg turns this around by casting a woman, Brandi Jiminez Lee (sh/h) as Dr. Henry Jekyll. Choosing tall dark & handsome Jack Sharkey (h/h) as Mr. Edward Hyde is significant as well. Mr. Hyde is a thoroughly loathsome character, and virtually all adaptations exhibit a face and physique to match. Sharkey’s Hyde, however, is cultured and sensual, an Edward Hyde that I found by no means repugnant – at first, any road. Which is not to say he’s a good guy! just a really slick one.

Stevenson wrote JEKYLL & HYDE to explore the dichotomy between our public and private selves, even more relevant in Victorian times than today. In the play, the dyad extends beyond Jekyll vs. Hyde.  The story is told by Jekyll’s solicitor (and admirer) Gabriel John Utterson, masterfully played by Shane Richlen (h/h), and the contrast between this worthy Victorian gentleman and the unconventional Henri Jekyll is as sharp as that between Jekyll and Hyde – in fact, I found myself scratching my head about his devotion: hie thee to Al-Anon, John Gabriel! 

Other characters mirror the good/evil dichotomy as well. Dr. Hastie Lanyon, played by Joel Thompson (h/h), friend to both Utterson and Jekyll, is the first to learn that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are one and the same, a grim discovery that haunts Lanyon to his death. Richard Enfield (Ian Saderholm, h/h) is another ideal Victorian gentleman; he is the first to witness Hyde committing a violent crime, while Sir Danvers Carew, played by understudy Ross Compton (h/h), is the first person we actually see Hyde slay. The assault is also witnessed by the Maid (Hanna Beth Mitchell, sh/h), an intermittent character used for comic relief. One final character mismatches Hyde: Dr. Jekyll’s butler Poole (Ross Compton), whose devotion to his master starkly contrasts with Hyde’s treachery.

So, why am I calling this production weird? To begin with, the contradiction seems to extend into the plot. I had real trouble following all the aspects of the story: murder and virtue, rape and seduction, revenge and passion, with snippets of addiction, past sexual molestation, homosexuality, and incongruous heterosexuality tossed in haphazardly.  At the interval I confessed my confusion to my companion, an ardent fan of Stevenson’s novel, and was amazed (and relieved) to learn she was equally befuddled.

And there was a large group seated in front of us who laughed extravagantly throughout (including at things I saw no humor in) – clearly they did not share our misgivings. We concluded they were friends of the cast, devoted and true, and god love ‘em for it. But they were another weird thing.

I was dismayed by the missed opportunities. For example, why, when evil Hyde was a white man and good Jekyll a Black woman, was there absolutely no mention of race? One of the reasons I was interested in this adaptation was the casting of a Black woman in the role of Jekyll, but that didn’t seem at all relevant to the play. I notice this particularly since I’ve seen Chicago theatre come back from covid with much attention on issues of racial and gender disparity, yet this production made no use of multiple openings. And, though sexual abuse is frequently alluded to, its import as a motive is relegated to a throw-away line at the end. I’d like to have seen that issue fleshed out far more. 

The production as a whole was discombobulating, beginning with the script and continuing through its interpretation by director Morgan Manasa (sh/h), with artistic director Evan Jackson (th/th), dramaturges Elizabeth MacDougald (th/th) and Tristan Brandon (th/th) [also props designer and literary manager]. There were glaring anachronisms—the Maid smoking on the street in 1885? And while Elizabeth Blackwell obtained her MD in 1849, Elizabeth Anderson didn’t become the first British female physician until 1865, yet the issue of feminism and suffrage is decidedly underplayed. And I question several choices (rock music between scenes?) made by music & sound director L.J. Luthringer (h/h), and lighting & projection designer Laura Wiley (th/th). 

I wish Jessie Gowens’ (sh/h) costumes had done more to distinguish the various Victorian Gentlemen. Carrie Hardin (sh/h), speech and dialect coach, allowed traces of Yorkshire to slip into London. Fight choreographer Libby Beyreis (sh/h) suffered unfairly by comparison to the Babes with Blades’ production of Richard III, which I saw just a few days earlier. I found the seduction scenes unconvincing, but intimacy designers Samantha Kaufman (sh/h) and Courtney Abbott (sh/h) had quite a challenge with Hyde’s despoilment of Jekyll – though I did love Hyde’s line, “Just think of it as masturbation.” In fact, I was definitely intrigued by the casting of Jekyll and Hyde as two completely different characters.

Stage managers Becky Warner (th/th) and Beth Bruins (sh/h), with scenic designer Stina Taylor (sh/h), created a set that required frequent rearrangement of all the furniture, which I found more disruptive than expressive. The remainder of the creative team are Kati Lechner (th/th), covid compliance officer, production manager Shellie DiSalvo (th/th), treasurer Mara Kovacevic (sh/h) and Gina Marie Hoskins (sh/h) in marketing.

Please remember that my description of the play as ‘weird’ is just that: my description. The cast was superb, and did an excellent job, particularly co-stars Brandi Jiminez Lee, Jack Sharkey, and Shane Richlen. And I’m always pleased when an understudy (Ross Compton) steps forward to give a fine performance.