Displaying items by tag: Nathan Hosner

Goodman Theatre’s staging of The Winter’s Tale, loaded with spectacle, would have seemed ridiculous and even unanchored 20 years ago. But with the surging popularity of those magical realms in the movies of the Marvel Universe – Black Panther, Captain Marvel, Avengers: Endgame - where characters die, then return, and are repeatedly transformed – well, director Robert Fall’s almost (but not quite) overwrought effort fits our times perfectly.

The Winter’s Tale was one of Shakespeare final works, and it is a unique form (perhaps why it is produced less often), neither a comedy nor a tragedy, but devised as a romance.
Unlike the powerful plays that are channeled intellectually to our emotions through telling dialog, as in the tragic Hamlet or comic Taming of the Shrew, The Winter’s Tale was meant as a theatrical confection, and entertains us more than it sways us.

In Goodman Theatre’s magnificent production, director Robert Falls has given us spectacle – five acts delivered as a series of elegant vignettes, presenting different facets of Shakespeare’s spin on several forms: Tragedy, Greek Drama, Pastoral Romance, Comedy & Clowning. At first, I admit I was suspicious of it all, wondering whether Goodman had bankrolled an overproduced folly. But by degrees I came to appreciate Falls' vision, and fell for it.

The Winter’s Tale opens with a brewing tragedy among royals – the deeply bonded kings of Bohemia and Sicilia are like brothers, who have a falling out, leading to tragic consequences and suffering. But Shakespeare uses the stuff of this tragedy as a formula: we are meant to behold the key points of very bad things happening.

For this, Falls puts the cast in contemporary evening wear and paper crowns – suggesting through what is almost a cliché in contemporary Shakespeare style, that this is a throwaway tragedy. The cast delivers it’s Elizabethan dialog persuasively. But the rather convoluted sequence of events is more like an exaggerated operatic storyline, than compelling trough of sorrow.

In a nutshell, Leontes (Dan Donohue - he was Scar in Lion King!) King of Sicilia becomes jealous of his pregnant wife Hermione (Kate Fry) and of his dearest friend, Polixenes (Nathan Hosner), the King of Bohemia, who he deems are cheating on him. Leontes shifts with inexplicable rapidity from bosom buddy to enraged adversary, though friends and advisers try to soothe him. Hermione delivers the baby, and Leontes puts her on trial, and sends the infant girl to die in the wilderness – of Bohemia. Oh and his young son Mamillius (Charlie Herman) dies, leaving Leontes heirless.

Subsequent scenes, including the trial of Hermione, now are given the look of Greek drama, or, Game of Thrones as suggested by the costume of Leontes steward, Paulina (Christiana Clark is a dramatic force). Hermione’s fate is sealed by Leontes' edict, but an appeal is made to consult the Oracle at Delphos on whether his jealousy is misplaced.

The play transitions a more pastoral setting, in wilds of the Kingdom of Bohemia, where the baby in the basket is threatened by a bear – played with convincing ferociousness by Mark Lancaster. The baby is saved when the bear chases after someone else (“Exit, pursued by bear” is the script line).

The curtain falls. And when it rises, we are greeted by a transitional interlude, with the character Time and letting us know in metered verse the clock has moved forward 16 years. This precious scene is like an elaborate decorative embellishment in an antiquarian book, letting us know we are entering a new episode.

The next parts of the play brings us to the pastoral setting of the Kingdom of Bohemia, and Falls gives us celebratory scenes following a sheep shearing, with bales of wool stacked high, and ala Nutcracker, a giant sheep and sheers. Against the setting of plenty we meet the surviving infant, Perdita (Chloe Baldwin) now a teenaged girl, and her boyfriend, Florizel (Xavier Bluell, who brings a real freshness and spark to his role). We are greeted by delightful scenes, and eventually the play makes it’s way back to the Kingdom of Sicilia, for a magical resolution in which all is forgiven, though not all live happily ever after.

For Shakespeare fans this production of a rarity makes The Winter’s Tale must viewing. But anyone who comes will find themselves richly rewarded. It runs through June 9 at Goodman Theatre.

Walking in as curtain time neared for Photograph 51, the towering set took my breath away: a backdrop nearly three-stories tall, built of a latticework of delicately framed, vertical windowpanes with spiral staircases swirling down at each end, to meet a floor of foot-square hexagonal tiles.

Heavy quarter-sawn oak laboratory tables and cabinets filled the setting, a research lab that would play a pivotal role in the discovery of the structure of DNA molecules. As the play commenced, illumination flowed down the pillars of the window panels and along the irregular channels at the edges of the tile, creating an electrifying vision - mimicking the hexagon shape of those DNA molecules.

Strains of an evocative original score swelled as the action began in the laboratories of King’s College in London - the site of crucial research that led to the now familiar double helix structure of DNA molecules described by University of Cambridge researchers (and eventual Nobel laureates) James Watson and Francis Crick.

This play tells of unsung research heroine in that saga, Rosalind Franklin (played excellently by Chaon Cross), a chemist whose X-ray crystallography photographs (Photograph 51 was the big one) that provided a visual key unlocking the riddle of how DNA molecules were structured.

Watson (Alex Goodrich) and Crick (Nicholas Harazin) went on to Nobel glory, as did Franklin’s research partner Maurice Wilkins (played by Nathan Hosner), while Franklin’s pivotal role was largely forgotten. That is, until Watson’s outrageously misogynist portrayal of her in Double Helix, his autobiography. As the rare creature of her day, a woman research scientist, Franklin suffered the critiques of male peers that are familiar - she wasn't feminine enough, was hard to get along with, made the least of herself in dress and style. Needless to say,  these were taken more seriously in the 1950s. 

"Why collaborate with someone who's hard to get along with," as one of Franklin's peers puts it. Nonetheless, in this retelling of the story, Franklin asserted herself, insisting she be accorded equal respect, and resisting attempts to subordinate her research to her male lab partner, Maurice Wilkins.

"Dr. Wilkins, I will not be anyone's assistant," Franklin tells him, and she insists he refer to her as Dr. Franklin. 

Watson’s characterization of Franklin in Double Helix was widely criticized. Harvard, where Watson was teaching, refused to publish it.
Watson’s reputation and career has also been devastated by his advancement of theories that there is a link between race and intelligence.

Having lost his income, he became the only Nobel prize winner who to sell his award. U of C, which sustains the Court Theatre, may be trying to get on the right side of the issue by presenting Franklin’s story on stage – though it might want to revisit the distinguished alumni award it made to Watson in 2007. 

Would that the play measured up to such worthy goals, and the promise of its sets by Arnel Sancianco (scenic design), Keith Parham (lighting) Jeffrey Levin (sound). Instead, we have a show with great acting and production values – it reminds me of a Netflix pilot film – but with a story line, yet only a wandering plotline.

Plays need a drama to succeed, and instead we are given a timeline. All very interesting, to be sure, but not gripping.
As a result, instead of Franklin being the star of her own story, she is a supporting character. The closest thing we have to a protagonist is her partner Wilkens, who secretly carried a torch for her. That these scientists are such a nerdy bunch must have made it all the more difficult for playwright Anna Ziegler to develop the work. It was a success in London starring Nicole Kidman. The University of Chicago lent its academic bona fides and knowledge base to Court Theater’s production, and that greatly enriches the show.

There are moments, to be sure, including a wonderful soliloquy on the loneliness of a scientist's pursuit of knowledge. Likewise, the tortured moments of Wilkins, who struggled to recognize and express his feelings for Franklin.

We have a wonderful theatrical spectacle, and the direction by Vanessa Stalling made the most of Photograph 51, “mining Ziegler’s text for all its thematic complexities,” as artistic director Charles Newell puts it. Watson & Crick’s discovery in 1953 of the double helix changed history, and our view of ourselves as humans. The knowledge of DNA’s role – and the potential for engineering new directions using it – is the basis for a world of change in arts and sciences.

Photograph 51 is an illuminating story, and we are fortunate it is being told so beautifully - and perhaps that is enough to recommend it. The show runs through February 17 at Court Theatre.

*Now playing through February 23, 2019

Winner of four Jeff Awards, including Best Production, and fresh off a national tour, Moby Dick, adapted and directed by David Catlin from the book by Herman Melville, returns to the Lookingglass Theatre. The play is produced in association with The Actors Gymnasium, a circus and performing arts training center.

The story is narrated by adventurous Ishmael, a sailor en route to sign up with a whaling ship, Piqued. Ishmael (superbly played by Jamie Abelson at evening performances) first lands in an overcrowded hotel, where the innkeeper casually informs him that due to lack of room he’ll have to share a bed with another fellow. His muscular, tattoo covered bedmate, Queequeg (the absolutely splendid Anthony Fleming III), is a son of a Polynesian island king, who is on his own soul-searching journey. The two men bond and decide to board the ship together.

The rest of the show takes us onto Piqued. The ship is a testosterone infused man-cave; the sailors do what real men are supposed to do: they go out to dangerous sea to hunt down whales in order to obtain whale oil, a valuable commodity at the time. Their jaw-dropping circus-inspired acrobatic fits of agility (choreography by Sylvia Hernandez-Distasi) add to the feel of masculine energy and the everyday struggle to stay alive.

But Piqued’s disheveled and angry Captain Ahab (fiercely played by Nathan Hosner) is not interested in whale oil, he’s got a score to settle: the giant white whale named Moby Dick bit off his leg during their previous encounter. Captain has been at sea for a very long time, and in his insanity he imagines that the white whale represents all the evil in the world, and thus it must be destroyed. It’s pure all-consuming madness!

Costume designer Sully Ratke’s clever use of fabrics play games with our minds: an oversized woman’s skirt swallows drowning men, a vast piece of white silk brushing past our heads is a giant white whale.

The feminine energy in the play is very distinct. The three female actors (Kelley Abell, Mattie Hawkinson, Cordelia Dewdney) play all the female parts as well as the three Fates. They set the mood with their eerie presence and graceful movements, while their beautiful voices provide live score (sound designer/composer Rick Sims). Sometimes they are just lurking around, and other times they are the forces of nature and nature itself. One of them turns into a whale carcass being stripped of meat and drained of oil by sailors in a vaguely sexual way.

That feminine energy is of stark contrast to the mere mortal men’s struggles to survive. It’s Man vs. Nature, and nature can never be conquered. Spoiler alert: in the end, the Ill-fated ship is swallowed by the over-sized skirt. Vengeance is a two-way street.

About the venue: Lookingglass Theatre is housed in Water Tower Water Works, the historic still functioning water station built in 1869, which pumps 250,000 gallons of water to the north side of Chicago every day. Separated from the theatre space by a glass wall, it feels like a time warp, which sets the mood perfectly for this mid-19th century classic. For more information on this show or to purchase tickets, visit www.Lookingglasstheatre.org.

The Chicago premiere of a Tom Stoppard play is one of the most hotly anticipated events of this season. We’re never short for great Stoppard productions in this town, but The Hard Problem was Stoppard’s first new play in nine years when it debuted in 2015, and since Court Theatre’s Charlie Newell can be trusted to mount a strong production, the author is undoubtedly the main draw. Some of his best-known plays, such as the recently produced Travesties and Arcadia, were extremely complicated, sprawling works which required the audience to have a sizable pre-existing knowledge of artistic movements and the interplay between culture and technology, but The Hard Problem, as the title states, zeroes in on a single issue which, depending on which side of it you fall on, might not really seem to be a problem at all. Whether the mind is a function of the brain or has an ethereal quality is not something Stoppard attempts to answer definitively, but the degree to which this play interests you will largely depend on your investment in the debate.

Chaon Cross owns the part of Hilary, the only fully three-dimensional character in the play. A young psychologist whose path in life has had some unexpected hiccups, Hilary is dependent on Spike (Jürgen Hooper), an evolutionary biologist, to help her fake the mathematical credentials she needs to get a job with the Krohl Institute, a research lab dedicated to solving the mind-body problem. She doesn’t even particularly want to work there, but it was the only place she applied to and heard back from. Spike is an utterly noxious, self-justifying proponent of evolutionary psychology, but it seems to be more than just a need to be perceived as good at data processing which causes Hilary to keep inviting him into her bed. Anyway, it turns out that Leo (Brian McCaskill), the man running the part of the Krohl Institute Hilary’s interested in, shares her preference for psychology over neurology, and she gets the job on her own merits.

The Krohl Institute was created by Jerry Krohl (Nathan Hosner), a billionaire hedge fund manager, to help him gain an edge over other traders. Krohl himself doesn’t really care whether the brain is a meat computer or a conduit for the sublime; he just wants to eliminate uncertainty in practical matters. Early on, we meet Amal (Owais Ahmed), a mathematician who holds the position that the soul is flesh and whom Krohl later punishes for publicly predicting the 2008 crash instead of keeping it close to the vest. Amal’s growing disillusion with humans’ capacity for rational thought is driven largely by what he sees happening in the stock market, but he’s reluctant to fall into line with Hilary’s belief that this leaves us with no alternatives but belief in some kind of divinity.

The plot concerns Hilary’s struggle with a job that was never a good fit for her while her entire field appears to be in jeopardy. But Stoppard’s interest seems to be in how nobody really wants to acknowledge the true implications of their belief system, whatever that happens to be. Hilary is a less forceful arguer than Spike, but Newell’s centering of her on stage almost throughout the show and Cross’s commitment to her full range of emotions prevent us from dismissing her. Stoppard has also made her opponents repulsive Thersites-like characters, while Hilary’s on-stage ally is the kind-hearted, idealistic Bo (Emjoy Gavino). John Culbert’s scenic design doesn’t give them very many hiding places, which is perhaps why they resort to vicious verbal, and eventually, physical confrontations to make their points.

If Stoppard’s goal was to show how the debate over the hard problem spills out of sealed realms such as universities and think tanks to strike at peoples’ deepest vulnerabilities, the flatness of the other characters prevents him from quite getting there. However, he does a good enough job of illustrating his point for us to understand it. A great many people love Stoppard and Court Theatre simply for having these conversations, with no expectation the problem will be resolved. Pointing out how divorced from real life rationalism and rationalizations are is enough to make a fruitful evening, and getting to experience it being put so eloquently by fine actors is a bonus.

Recommended

The Hard Problem plays at Court Theatre through April 9, with performances on Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays at 8:00 pm, Saturdays at 3:00 pm and 8:00 pm, and Sundays at 2:30 pm and 7:30 pm. Running time is one hour and forty minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $48–68; to order, call 773-753-4472 or visit CourtTheatre.org. For more information, see TheatreinChicago.com.

What do Michael Jackson and Abraham Lincoln have in common? Playwright Bixby Elliot explores the parallels between the sixteenth president, the king of pop and the landscape for LGBT youth in his new play “Abraham Lincoln was a Faggot” at About Face Theatre.

Elliot’s play follows two intertwining narratives in an attempt to answer the eternal question: was Abraham Lincoln gay? In the present, there is Cal (Matt Farabee), a high schooler coming to terms with his sexuality while trying to prove Lincoln’s orientation. In the past, there is the supposed story of Lincoln’s homosexual love affairs. In between are Cal’s terrified mother (Jessie Fisher) and uncle (Nathan Hosner) who must traverse the uneasy waters of an older generation’s attitude toward homosexuality.

Director Andrew Volkoff brings together a well-equipped cast for this show. Dana Black’s clowning as narrator, historian and Ellen Degeneres will likely be most remembered. She accents and punctuates nearly every scene and it brings a much needed sense of lightness. Jessie Fisher in a duel role as both Mary Todd Lincoln and Cal’s mother balances  eccentricity and subtlety.

Bixby’s script, even if at times extraneous, has a lot of heart and makes a lot of great points about our media obsessed culture. At first the Michael Jackson musical numbers and background tracks seem strangely out of place, but as the show continues the script points to two lives lived under grueling American scrutiny. The author writes from a much more closeted generation than our current times, but still the struggle to live a life that is true to oneself is the ultimate argument. This essential human necessity transcends race, gender, class and sexuality. The script is well-structured and under Volkoff’s direction, has a real sense of emotional authenticity that could be lost in such an inventive concept.

Through July 5^th. At the Green House Theatre Center. 2257 N Lincoln Ave. 773-404-7336