RECOMMENDED

Straight outta the Bronx, stand-up Mike DeStefano represents the stereotypical New York tough guy style of comedy that will never get old, complete with a blue-collar, no-bullshit attitude and a liberal use of the phrase “breaking my balls.” With a slight NYC accent, DeStefano turns his everyday routines and misadventures into wise cracks and blunt storytelling, hitting a range of topics from accidentally going into a gay bar, to making fun of his disabled best friend, to how great it is that comedians are allowed to swear uncontrollably. It’s really impossible not to connect with the guy on a gut-level. “I went to Catholic School, that’s why I’m a Buddhist,” he says in one of his signature jokes. “They scream at you, ‘Jesus died for your sins!’ You’re like, ‘holy crap, I’m seven!’” (Andy Seifert)

January 16-18 at Lakeshore Theater, 3175 N. Broadway, (773)472-3492

RECOMMENDED

Mostly known as that guy with the nasally, grating voice that at times sounds like a giant cockatoo protecting its young (which is probably why he played “Iago” the parrot in Disney’s “Aladdin”), the legendary Gilbert Gottfried has made a pretty damn good living based on being the king of the loudmouths, and popping up in places you’d least expect him (The Cosby Show? The 1980 season of SNL?). But as a public comic figure, Gottfried simply adheres to the golden rule of stand-up: push the boundaries of civility and political correctness. After almost thirty years of comedy, Gottfried’s best-known moments—his belittling impression of Andrew Dice Clay and his beyond vulgar post-9/11 “Aristocrats” speech at the Hugh Hefner Roast—have flown directly in the face of popular opinion, which is evidence of a comedian who knows how to shake a few feathers. Although, we’ll forgive him for guest starring on “Hollywood Squares.” (Andy Seifert)

January 15, at Zanies, 1548 N. Wells, (312)337-4027.

RECOMMENDED

You may know him as Georgie, the bartender on the Sopranos who works at the Bada Bing and who Tony beats the crap out of (with, among other things, a Big Mouth Billy Bass toy). And while Frank Santorelli may have garnered the love of the Sopranos viewing nation by acting like the long-lost son of George Wendt and Jeff Garlin, he can also win over a live audience with the same bartender charm as his TV character. While his act deals with a lot of the typical stand-up subjects—bathrooms, drinking too much, Italian jokes, the insult of being served a drink with a “crazy straw”—everything about him is instantly likable. Down-to-earth, soft-spoken and reminiscent of your lovable fat uncle, Santorelli immediately seems like the type of guy you’d love to sit down, have beer with, and reminisce about the time Tony Soprano clobbered you over the head with a phone until you were unconscious. (Andy Seifert)

January 21-24 at Zanies in St. Charles, 4051 E. Main, (630)584-6342

I liked the concept, I liked the set and I liked some of the performances very much, but I did not like Blackbird Theatre Company’s production of Daniel Jackson’s “Into the Pool or The Cheshire Cat Mourns the Death of The American Dream.”  I say this gingerly because there is some good stuff hidden in there.  The story though, drawing on characters from literary works like “Alice in Wonderland” and “The Wizard of Oz”  to explore what happens when youth realizes life is not the stuff of fairy tales, comes across too heavy handed.  It is an interesting world Jackson has created in the backyard belonging to the old lady in the shoe.  And moments of humor  really made me laugh.  It is when characters stop and make statements that sound like they come directly from the author’s program notes that my eyes began to roll.  Blackbird is a young company.  This is the first show of their first full season and I think this young group of artists have a lot more to say.  I have no doubt bigger better work will come from them, but I wouldn’t include this show in any Anniversary season.  Oh, and some good sound would really help. (William Scott)

“Into the Pool, or the Cheshire Cat Mourns the Death of the American Dream” plays through February 1 at the Side Project Theatre, 1439 W. Jarvis. Thu-Sat/8pm, Sun/3pm, blackbirdtheatrecompany.com. $20 adults, $15 for students/seniors and industry.

An everyman loses his cell phone after his sister dies in a terrorist train bombing; he spends the rest of the play trying to get it back, almost all of it during or on the verge of emotional breakdown. Along the way he gets involved in an international hacker/spammer ring, occasionally visits a fantasyland filled with Eskimos speaking in “spam language,” and has deeply felt conversations about love and life with the criminal who stole his cell phone on the black market. For all the surreal action in this play, and its ostensible concern with the corruption of language and relationship by various kinds of spam and the undoing of “the glue binding people to who they say they are,” the show’s creative elements are weighed down by a stilted and melodramatic plot line whose clichés overshadow thoughtful elements; and the acting, with the exception of Joel Ewing’s comic instincts, which almost carry the show, is similarly far too weighty and extreme to explore any nuances about postmodern relationships that the writing occasionally suggests.  (Monica Westin)

At Stage Left Theatre, 3408 N Sheffield, (773)883-8830. Through February 7.

Rasaka Theatre Company, the Midwest’s first South Asian American ensemble,
did a reading of Yoni Ki Baat (“talk of vagina”) in May. The piece, inspired
by Eve Ensler’s “Vagina Monologues” but based more specifically on the South
Asian woman’s experience, drew much larger crowds then expected. “At the
reading, we were like, ‘Where did all these people come from? There must be
something here,’” says director Lavina Jadhwani. All the unexpected interest
inspired the creation of a full Yoni Ki Baat production which opened Sunday
and runs through February 1 at Strawdog Theatre. The piece, while uniquely
South Asian, is also uniquely Chicagoan. “Out of twelve monologues, six are
brand new and seven are written by Chicago writers,” Jadhwani explains.
“‘Yoni Ki Baat’ is a conversation starter, a brave piece,” she says. “It
takes the conversation to a slightly different place.” (Meaghan Strickland)

“Yoni Ki Baat” runs at Strawdog Theatre, 3829 N. Broadway, through Feb 1.

RECOMMENDED

An epiphany. Elizabeth LeCompte’s daring adaptation, using conventions of blackface, of what was possibly Eugene O’Neill’s most controversial play to begin with, balances the Wooster Group’s spectacular aesthetic and fever pitch of the writing with delicate controlled performances on the brink of pure abstraction. The show is impeccably stylized at every level as it creates and destroys the legend/fantasy of Brutus Jones, running away from natives on an island he’s colonized and his own past as a Pullman porter and convicted criminal in America, stuck on island he can’t escape and that eventually annihilates him. Kate Valk’s obvious masquerade as Jones, in the makeup of minstrelry, which does nothing to disguise its artificiality, and throwing her voice disturbingly convincingly as a white fantasy of black masculinity, doesn’t let us forget for a moment that this kind of racial identification is a simulacrum and simultaneously a role that cannot be escaped. Artaud-like, the images of our own inherited stereotypes and our position as voyeurs into others’ horrors are thrown in the audience’s faces; in perhaps the most chilling moment of the show, Jones wakes up from a nightmare in the jungle and shrieks, “What are you looking at me for?” That Valk is utterly astonishing, even genius, comes as no surprise, but Scott Shepherd, the white British interlocutor for Jones’ monologues, who serves as s sort of voice of history or colonialism itself, provides a dynamic anchor and an uncanny contrast for Valk’s hysteric self-destruction. Technically just as brilliant, with a minimalist soundscape and stark, alienating visuals. (Monica Westin)

At Goodman Theatre, 170 N Dearborn, (312)443-3800. Through January 11.

RECOMMENDED
Kyle and Zoe met in high school. He was the science geek. She was the girl with a penchant for loud eye makeup and funky headgear. He was the introvert; she was a human disco ball. They wed a few months after graduation and their marriage fell into the realm of mostly good—deep love interspersed with jealousies and an inclination to push buttons.

“Married people enjoy annoying one another from time to time,” Kyle says at the outset of “Touch,” Toni Press-Coffman’s drama about the ways tragedy can upend and rearrange lives—and not always for the worse. (Jessica Hutchinson is the director.)

The origin story of Kyle and Zoe is told in an extended monologue that eats up much of the first act. It is a test of patience—Kyle will not be rushed, and as played by an empathetic Dan Granata, he holds your attention even when the story begins to drift.

The play is densely written—and overwritten—but it has an easy flow. Sit and listen, it asks, and let these anecdotes take hold. The picture will come into focus soon enough.

And it does, when Kyle tells of a Thanksgiving, a few years into their marriage, when Zoe disappeared into the night. What transpires afterwards—the agony of not knowing, replaced by the agony of knowing—plays out like an emotional disembowelment for Kyle.

But playwright Press-Coffman has good timing, and she starts to add other characters to the mix: Bennie (Kyle’s frequently hilarious best friend); Serena (Zoe’s sister, who isn’t afraid to walk into a police station and shout, “You stupid fuck!”); and Kathleen (a prostitute who fills the void in the aftermath).

Suddenly, there’s real humor in the script amidst the taint of Zoe’s horrible fate. Bennie, steadfast and true, is one-of-a-kind (played by Matthew Gottlieb). He and Kyle have been friends since they were kids. As they got older, Kyle became more withdrawn while Bennie became “more”—pause—“Italian.” It’s a funny line that Gottlieb sells like a pristine Rolex knockoff. Without Bennie, the play would leave a bitter, maudlin aftertaste.

The story isn’t especially deep, despite the subject matter. But it is intelligent and carefully wrought, and it speaks to how we live today. Life can seem like an exercise in dodging black holes, only to find yourself blindsided and sucked into the darkness anyway. (Nina Metz)

At New Leaf Theatre in the Lincoln Park Cultural Center, 2045 N. Lincoln Park West, (773)516-3546 or newleaftheatre.org. Thu-Sat 8p. $18. Through February 14.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we are in a recession, and circus performers are the first things cut,” informs Aloft Loft Director Shayna Swanson at the start of the monthly El Cheapo Circo Cabaret.

While a standing-room-only crowd fills the old industrial space for this month’s installment, the Cabaret, is more for out-of-work circus performers than for the interested audience.

“This show helps us stay motivated to make new acts since we are not getting hired elsewhere. It also gives us the opportunity to get really good video of our work, which is really difficult for circus performers because we are always facing the wrong direction, or not the focus of attention,” explains Aloft Company member Helena Reynolds.

While the economy’s effect on performers motivated the creation of El Cheapo, Aloft also keeps the attendees’ economic situations in mind.

“It costs ten dollars to get in but you can do pull-ups to get your money back. For every pull-up you do, up to five, you get a dollar back. If you do ten pull-ups, you’re entered in a raffle to get the other five dollars back,” explains Reynolds as an surprisingly strong woman pumps out ten dead hang pull-ups behind her.

Last month, everyone could earn all ten dollars back but this month the refund formula had to be adjusted. “We had to change it up because last month we made no money,” says Reynolds. Tonight, things are going more Aloft’s way. “I tried and only got halfway up,” admits Anissa Ghali about her pull-up attempt. (Meaghan Strickland)

Rasaka Theatre Company, the Midwest’s first South Asian American ensemble, did a reading of Yoni Ki Baat (“talk of vagina”) in May. The piece, inspired by Eve Ensler’s “Vagina Monologues” but based more specifically on the South Asian woman’s experience, drew much larger crowds then expected. “At the reading, we were like, ‘Where did all these people come from? There must be something here,’” says director Lavina Jadhwani. All the unexpected interest inspired the creation of a full Yoni Ki Baat production which opened Sunday and runs through February 1 at Strawdog Theatre. The piece, while uniquely South Asian, is also uniquely Chicagoan. “Out of twelve monologues, six are brand new and seven are written by Chicago writers,” Jadhwani explains. “‘Yoni Ki Baat’ is a conversation starter, a brave piece,” she says. “It takes the conversation to a slightly different place.”