Recalling a Lion at the Royal George

January 8, 2020 by Mitchell Oldham

Lenny Bruce, left, is portrayed by Ronnie Marmo at the Royal George Theatre – Chicago Credit: Getty Images / Hulton Archive / Doren Sorell Photography

As Ronnie Marmo so skillfully reminds us in his ravishing one-man show, you can pay a very high price for telling uncompromising truths. Just entering its second extension at the Royal George, I’m Not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce takes us back to the 60s and reintroduces us to a man known more for his penchant for profanity than for his ferocious belief in that precious little freedom tucked into the first amendment; the freedom of speech.

Marmo, who not only plays Bruce but also wrote the script for the performance, beautifully inhabits the spirit of a man who is as much a cultural touchstone as he is an icon. The show’s title, I’m Not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce is a direct quote from Mr. Bruce and likely explains precisely how he viewed himself. Comedy was simply a vehicle for speaking truth.

Ronnie Marmo in I’m Not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce — Credit – Doren Sorell

Madly ambitious, this production doesn’t hurry as it chronicles the contributions and heroism of a singular individual in its 90-minute format. Super-sized talent helps it succeed impressively. Marmo’s performance stealthily overwhelms with its honesty and candor; giving the audience a three-dimensional perspective of who this man was when not under the hot lights of a nightclub. It just as clearly gave us a feel for Lenny Bruce’s bracing talent; essentially canonizing Leonard Alfred Schneider’s exceptionalism.

Adding dynamism to a show that features a single individual is probably as daunting as it sounds. Comics of course do it all the time through unexpected insights and surprise. Productions like I’m Not a Comedian, I’m Lenny Bruce have a higher hill to climb. They drill down to the essence of a person to highlight their uniqueness. Enlisting the services of a savvy director insures the story moves with compelling energy and sustains curiosity. Here, Joe Mantegna more than ably insured this look back on Bruce’s life and legacy purred with the power of a Lamborghini and flowed with immaculate ease. By stitching together delivery, timing and structure to create something as intellectually brawny as it is relaxed and funny, his input helped make I’m Not a Comedian a flat out hit off – Broadway last year and a reason why Chicago audiences can’t seem to get enough of it.

Joe Mantegna and Ronnie Marmo in Rehearsal Photo Credit Doren Sorell

In addition to the excellence of the project, a lot of that admiration stems from who Lenny Bruce was. As much as we learn about him through Marmo’s encompassing portrayal, you can’t help but want to know much much more about this complicated, intriguingly intelligent man. Because of his mother, he grew up around show business. So It’s not surprising he’d gravitate to it. Entertainment attracts colorful personalities. And in many ways, it’s proven to be a haven where conventions are relaxed. Discovering or expressing self can include experimentation. With drugs. With sex and sexuality. The weight of withering judgement doesn’t exist in that world the way it does for most people. Maybe living in such a universe creates an intolerance for hypocrisy and a heightened appreciation for the inviolability of truth.

A passion for truth certainly fueled Lenny Bruce. And the cosmos outside of show business gave him a wealth of material to work with. Many of the flashpoints he referenced 50 years ago are the same ones that define the culture wars today. Race, religion, sexuality, immigration. Judicial inequity. Marmo would often slip into a skit to dramatize how these concepts might go down as comedy during a live Lenny Bruce routine. Invariably the audience’s effusive laughter at the Royal George would be pouring from faces gleaming with delight. Sharp, incisive, penetrating truth; in the right hands, can be hilarious. Bruce did this, ferociously, in a period renowned for its buttoned-down complacency. It made him dangerous; at least to authority, and landed him in jail multiple times on obscenity charges. As it did here in Chicago. Two of the guilty verdicts ended up at the Supreme Court. He proved the truth could be red hot and that nudging the envelope far enough to expose imbalance, contradictions and hypocrisies in our “happy ending culture” can sap one’s spirit as well as bankrupt you through legal fees. By the time of his tragic death at 41 in 1966 of an unintended drug overdose, San Francisco was the only town he could get a booking.

Lenny Bruce being arrested. Photo courtesy The Vintage News

The frustration and exhaustion Marmo displayed recounting those years floated in melancholy poignancy because, as history, we knew what was coming. Ironically, a rare video recording of Bruce’s next to last live concert gave few clues to the toll his one man stand to exercise his first amendment rights exacted. He looked tired, but the potency of his intellect remained dazzling. As did his humor.

I’m Not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce celebrates this unorthodox sage, this Godfather of socially conscious comics who use their platform to do many of the things Mr. Bruce tried to do.

More than a few people after the show vocally lamented the loss of a Lenny-Bruce-like voice in today’s maelstrom of words. It’s as if they forgot you don’t need to be a comedian to tell the unvarnished truth. Lenny Bruce wasn’t.

I’m Not a Comedian…I’m Lenny Bruce

Extended through 2/16/2020

Royal George Theatre

1641 N. Halsted Street

Chicago, IL 60614

312-988-9000

www.theroyalgeorgetheatre.com

Show Your Gratitude to Chicago’s Arts Community

March 28, 2020 By Mitchell Oldham

2400 Block of Estes Ave. – Chicago – photo City Pleasures

The impact of the coronavirus has unalterably reached into the lives of everyone and shown us of our common vulnerability. We will rise from the withering blow it’s dealt to our spirits and to the way we are accustomed to living our lives.

This crisis, like most hardships, does not encroach and disrupt our lives equally. One’s age, calling, income, zip code and profession all determine how deeply the ramifications of the epidemic affect you.

City Pleasures covers the arts community. Actors, dancers, musicians and the venues that showcase their talent are being devastated by their inability to either practice their craft or feature artistic talent. Because they need our help, City Pleasures is sharing ways that allow anyone financially capable to provide support to do so. Some of those channels extend beyond the arts and entertainment community by design and list opportunities to also contribute needed relief to Chicago neighborhoods and the most vulnerable.

There are several ways to support the theater community. Individual theater companies as well as all non-profit arts organization accept support through direct donations, the purchase of a ticket, gift cards or subscriptions. The homepage of your favorite theater or theaters will direct you on how to do so.

If you would like your contributions to be broad based, the City of Chicago and the United Way of Metro Chicago have launched the Chicago Community Covid-19 Response Fund “to unite the funds raised by Chicago’s philanthropies, corporations and individuals to be disbursed to nonprofit organizations across the region”, including those in the arts.

Click here to donate: https://www.chicagocovid19responsefund.org/

One Chicago entertainment institution’s Training Center is taking comedy to the clouds by offering classes online. To find out more about or enroll in Second City’s comedy at home lessons, visit: https://www.secondcity.com/comedyfromyourcouch. Areas of focus include “Creating and Pitching Your TV Series”, “Teen Standup” and “Voiceover 101”.

Day of Absence, Refreshed and Brilliant at VG

March 6, 2020 By Mitchell Oldham

Sonya Madrigal, Ann Joseph, Bryant Hayes – Jazmyne Fountain photography

When Douglas Turner Ward wrote his pioneering one act play, Day of Absence, in 1965; he had a very clear intent. He wanted to write a play exclusively for a black audience. An audience that did not then exist. He was also working with a highly specific set of objectives. Expectedly, he wanted to write a play that spoke to the lives black people lived, but he also aimed to create a work that was implicit and allowed his audience to fill in the blanks. One that was subtle and edged with fine threads of sophistication. And just as importantly, he wanted to write something that did not put his audience to sleep.

He came up with two plays, both in one acts, Happy Ending and Day of Absence that played simultaneously at the St. Mark’s Playhouse in New York. Both plays grew legs and are regularly reprised on the contemporary stage.

Douglas Turner Ward – photo courtesy WNYC

When they were originally created 55 years ago, Ward also had to track down and recruit an audience by going anywhere the black public gathered; social clubs, union halls, beauty shops to rustle them up. His tactic worked and the productions played over 500 shows at the St. Mark’s.

Congo Square is only presenting Day of Absence on Victory Garden’s Christiansen stage right now. And as wonderful as it is, the current production won’t be running as long as it did when the play debuted back in ‘65. Making it even more of a must see. Even today it’s startling to see what Ward did with this jewel. A spare play with very few props, Day of Absence, like any top-tier theatrical creation intended for live performance, thrives on a gleaming story and fantastic characters. And it achieves everything Ward originally hoped to accomplish plus.

Taking an approach that says, “We know how you see us, now let us show you how we see you”, Day of Absence is all about reversals and looking at the world through different eyes. Normally, the cast is all Black. But this updated adaptation broadens what “black” is by making it anyone not white; resulting in cast made up of both brown and black performers.

Kelvin Roston Jr and Ronald L. Conner – Jazmyne Fountain photography

The overriding constant is that the play is still performed in white face, (and lots of wigs) with minorities portraying whites in a small southern town.

Opening quietly, a couple of regular guys working in a mall are just getting their day started. Luke (Ronald L. Conner) and Clem (Kelvin Roster, Jr.) share small talk southern style and toss shout outs to regulars as they peruse the routine landscape of their work lives. Clem’s older and Teddy Bear homey, Luke’s younger, gruffer and lost in his cell phone. It takes a minute or two, more like several, but Clem finally picks up on something. Something that’s not quite right or out of kilter. Suddenly stricken, he realizes he hasn’t seen a black person all day. Half the population. Luke’s slower to accept something that ridiculous. Until he can’t do otherwise.

Jordan Arredondo, Meagan Dilworth – Jazmyne Fountain photography

Performed as satire, Day of Absence chronicles what happens when a constant of life disappears. One that you may take for granted, resignedly tolerate or even benignly dismiss depending on your mood. More interestingly, it’s a story about how people react. What do they say and do in what quickly escalates into crisis and chaos.

Anthony Irons directed the production and achieved a master stroke by having his characters, or more precisely his characterizations, vie with the plot for overall strength. The way Ronald Conner portrays nonchalant insouciance is about as winning as it gets. Later we find him equally transfixing playing a completely different role. Roston, with his delicious phrasing and the pitch perfect softness of his drawl, is just as effective as Clem.

Ronald L. Conner, Ann Joseph – photo Jazmyne Fountain

The action streams briskly through three backdrops. The mall, John and Mary’s bedroom and the mayor’s office. John (Jordan Arredondo) and Mary (Meagan Dilworth) make their discovery of the vanishing rudely when their new born wails plaintively through the night and there’s no one to tend to it. There’s no Kiki, no Black three-in-one, nursemaid housemaid cook, to intervene and relieve the stress of parenthood. Dilworth’s Mary is so preciously inept at doing anything useful you’re tempted to feel sorry for her. But that sympathy would be horribly misplaced. Dilworth still makes a splendid Mary whose only skill is to function as a household “decoration”. Arredondo as her husband fills his role to the brim with manly character and pragmatism. When he valiantly volunteers to go the hood to look for Kiki and finds nothing short of a ghost town where “not even a little black dog” could be sighted, he’s all business and entitled indignation.

Ward created the consummate repository for the town’s angst and ire in the mayor. And director Irons knew exactly how to shape the character as an unforgettable foil. Unflappable and supremely confident, the mayor’s sense of privilege and the power she insinuates take on regal dimensions. In the right hands and under the right direction, it’s a fantastic role and one that Ann Joseph fills beautifully. Ordinarily a male actor plays the part and Jackson is the last name of his female personal assistant/secretary/gopher. Here Jackson is the second role Mr. Conner inhabits so vividly and with so much virtuosity. Always on point and a bit self-consciously effete, he’s deferential to a fault and ever vigilant about watching his own back.

Ward shrewdly built a lot of humor into the play. And this effort takes advantage of every morsel. It even adds more zest causing the whole affair to frequently tip over into the hilarious. The perfume skit alone deserves its own baby Tony award. Despite the outright comedy, the underlying subtext couldn’t be more biting. Bryant Hayes as Clan and Kelvin Roston, Jr. in his dual role as Rev. Pious represent the true demons Ward is battling in his lasting contribution to the American stage.

This adaptation, cleverly updated with the playwright’s permission, makes it shine like new money.

Day of Absence

Through March 27, 2020

Victory Gardens Theater

2433 N. Lincoln Ave.

773-871-3000

www.congosquaretheatre.com

A Fiery Birthday with the Boys

February 25, 2020 By Mitchell Oldham

William Marquez, Kyle Patrick, Sam Bell Gurwitz, Denzel Tsopnang in Windy City Playhouse’s Boys in the Band, photo credit Michael Brosilow

Time and a change of perspective can allow you to appreciate things you once abhorred. That maxim can be true of many things. Music, art, food. People. It was true of Boys in the Band. When Mart Crowley’s 1968 bombshell of a play rolled out on celluloid in 1970, it rightfully caused the world to shutter. Never had anyone so boldly pulled back the curtain to reveal the inner-life of the dispossessed as vividly or as candidly as Mr. Crowley had done. Now celebrating its 50^th anniversary, people are still wondering how accurate his painful picture of gay life is.

Having recently experienced the very fine Windy City Playhouse immersive take on the play, there’s no doubt many will be wondering the same thing 50 years from now.

The cast of Windy City Playhouse’s The Boys in the Band, photo credit Michael Brosilow

Listening to Mr. Crowley talk about how he came to write his landmark; how he was broke, out of work, without prospects and angry, the cathartic aura surrounding the play was finally given a cause. Still, because you don’t expect friendship to take on such ruthlessly hurtful dimensions, those explanations don’t satisfy the question of intensity or the depths of some the play’s caustic plunges.

William Boles scenic design played a key role in helping to provide the audience a tactile understanding of the times, place and people at this dark birthday party Michael (Jackson Evans) was throwing for his newly 32-year-old best friend Harold. Ushered six at a time through a tastefully appointed residential lobby and taken up the pretend elevator to the 5^th floor, the audience enters Michael’s resplendent apartment as if they themselves were guests. The party hadn’t started. Michael wasn’t there. You could walk around and admire his beautiful spirit decanters. The lovely artistic touches. The drama of the sunken conversation pit. 70s chic at its highest. All in deep red with accents in gold and in blue. The room radiated not only success, but power.

The set of Windy City Playhouse’s The Boys in the Band, photo credit Michael Brosilow

After everyone’s settled, Michael sweeps in doing last minute party preparation things. Putting the food out and the music on. You notice that even when the first guest, Donald (Jordan Dell Harris) arrives, things aren’t particularly warm. Nor are you immediately clear on Michael and Donald’s relationship. They’re more than just friends but not exactly lovers either? And even though Donald’s sparring skills are impressive, Michael seems to take pleasure in baiting him with petty criticism. Everyone else flows in shortly after Donald goes up to change. Emory (William Marquez) and Bernard (Denzel Tsopnang) arrive together. Lovers Larry (James Lee) and Hank (Ryan Reilly) are carrying the vestiges of a something bitter between them into the party. It’s a spat that will continue to swell throughout the play. Then Harold’s birthday present gets there much too early. A prostitute, Cowboy is as dull witted as he is beautiful. Even though he’s taunted by nearly everyone for his lack of intelligence, he’s also silently envied for his physical exceptionalism. And there’s a straight outlier in the mix. Michael’s close friend from college, back in a time when he was still in the closet, was in town and needed to see him. So much so that he wept with desperation when talking to Michael on the phone. Not being able to dissuade him, Michael invited Alan (Christian Edwin Cook) to the party as well, hoping to somehow camouflage the party’s gay complexion.

Christian Edwin Cook as Alan in Windy City Playhouse’s production of The Boys in the Band, photo credit- Michael Brosilow

The dynamics of the party are already roiling by the time he shows up. Emory is being quintessential Emory. So gay. Not defiantly; more in a liberation of self sort of way. His racial digs at Bernard, the only Black member of the party, were unsurprisingly catty but very curious. Were these swipes supposed to be expressions of the times are something else? Marquez made a splendid Emory. Later, when he apologized to Bernard for his callousness, promising not to cause such conscious hurt in the future, he was contrite enough and sincere enough to be ingratiatingly convincing. Which highlights one of key joys of the play; it’s exceptional casting. The spat that would not die between Hank and Larry centered on Larry’s inability, in fact his refusal, to be faithful to Hank; who had left his wife and children to be with him. Both James Lee as Larry and Ryan Reilly as Hank deliver a lot of honesty in their portrayals of what two people, who genuinely love one another, are willing to sacrifice to conquer an imposing barrier together.

Denzel Tsopnang, William Marquez, James Lee and Jackson Evans in Windy City Playhouse’s The Boys in the Band, photo credit Michael Brosilow

Christian Edwin Cook’s characterization of Alan, Michael’s straight friend, proved the most surprising because of the voice director Carl Menninger chose for him to use. He spoke with the diction and phrasing characteristic of blue bloods in the era when the Carnegies and Vanderbilts were flying high. His speech alone set him apart from everyone else at the party. Emory’s effeminacy however brought out his bile and even pushed him to violence. His punishment: he must remain at the party.

Unfortunately, Tsopnang’s Bernard was the least developed of the eight central characters. When Michael comes up with his insidious parlor game of calling the person you’ve always in your heart-of-hearts truly loved, and telling them your feelings for them, Bernard’s the first to gamely take up the challenge. It was only then did we catch a tiny glimpse of his inner core. By this time, everybody had had enough liquid courage to consider doing something so exposing and so ripe for humiliation. Who Bernard chose to call was also marked by the kind of class and race disparities that shout futility.

Jackson Evans and WIlliam Marquez in Windy City Playhouse’s The Boys in the Band, photo credit Michael Brosilow

Harold (Sam Bell-Gurvitz) had grandly made his infamous “32-year-old, ugly, pock marked Jew fairy” entrance by the time the game was in full swing. Despite it ushering in the possibility of something positive for Larry and Hank, as it continues, the game seems to dredge up nothing but pain. Michael’s adamancy about playing it turns pathological when you realize he’s the only one not drunk. He’s been on the wagon for five weeks and therefore without an excuse for insisting that everyone take this wanton drive off a cliff. When it back fires, sorrow for him does not exist. And when he makes his plea like statement, “If we could just not hate ourselves so much”, you wonder why he doesn’t just direct that question to himself.

Stonewall happened just one year after The Boys in the Band premiered off Broadway. Led by a fistful of outraged fed-up drag queens, another landmark, gay pride, was born. It’s fascinating to look at these two milestones side by side. Whether you consider them a “before and after” or a continuum, they both are about community; with all the complexity the word embodies.

Under Mr. Menninger’s enlightened direction, and mounted on Mr. Boles sensational set, Windy City’s staging of The Boys in the Band has proven a highpoint in the theater season. It’s also an ideal example of how well an immersive approach to theater aids in fully absorbing a captivating story.

The Boys in the Band

Through April 19^th, 2020

Windy City Playhouse

3014 Irving Park Rd.

Chicago, IL 60618

windycityplayhouse.com