Ana María Martínez as Nedda and Vladimir Galouzine as Canio in Pagliacci. Photo: Dan Rest

RECOMMENDED

The revolution of Richard Wagner was such that even Italy, the birthplace of opera, could not escape his influence: even the elderly Verdi applied Wagnerian ideals in his final—and many think his greatest—operas, “Otello” and “Falstaff.” How could Italy reclaim operatic relevance in the aftermath of Wagner? One such attempt was verismo opera, an attempt to portray the seedier side of Italian peasant life in more realistic terms, the trajectory of which can be seen in our own time in films of Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. Although the movement lasted well into the twentieth century and some even consider Puccini an exponent of the form, his was a post-Romantic attempt to recapture the glory of Verdi via the prism of Wagner. Verismo opera, as it turned out, gave us two enduring one-act works—“one-hit wonders,” to coin a phrase—which are routinely presented as a double bill: Mascagni’s “Cavalleria Rusticana” and Leoncavallo’s “Pagliacci.”

“Pagliacci” was the first complete opera ever to be recorded; its signature aria made Enrico Caruso the first international recording star more than a century ago and was the first disc to sell over a million copies. Even today, the image of a crying clown singing his heart out epitomizes the very essence of opera in the popular imagination. Caruso brought his own approach to verismo which is still the gold standard, a more beautiful sound than was originally the case in a style that placed singing at the service of the drama. By that standard, Russian tenor Vladimir Galouzine is the ideal Canio in that his is not a beautiful sound, but the intensity of his jealousy is so genuinely hair-raising that you almost start to feel sorry for his cheating wife and boyfriend who feel his wrath. No less pivotal is baritone Mark Delavan as the lame clown Tonio who delivers the Prologue with punch and pathos and breaks your heart when he is spurned by Nedda (Ana Maria Martinez).

“Cavalleria,” by contrast, never quite gets off the ground as its lovers are unable to generate sparks between them. Guang Yang sings beautifully, but her acting is wooden and Mark Delavan’s Alfio becomes the most interesting character by default. Dolora Zajick and Vincenzo La Scola will assume the lead roles in March which should help give this production a lift.

Italian conductor Renato Palumbo brings a most welcome Italianate sound to the Lyric Opera Orchestra not heard since music director emeritus Bruno Bartoletti’s departure from the company and Donald Nally gets a gorgeous sound from the Lyric Opera Chorus, especially in the “Easter Hymn” from “Cavalleria.” (Dennis Polkow)

“Cavalleria Rusticana” & “Pagliacci” run through March 27 at the Civic Opera House, Wacker Drive at Madison, (312)332-2244, lyricopera.org.

RECOMMENDED

John Procaccino, Francis Guinan and K. Todd Freeman

“Does anyone here know anything about art?” protested a solitary voice in a post-show discussion of “Art;” the poor guy was understandably confused since this was a show called “Art,” and yet the discussion centered on relationships in the play. “As an artist,” he went on to say, “I was curious why the playwright would choose a painting style that you can actually commonly see in the art world.” He is right, of course, and we went on to have our own conversation afterwards about Jasper Johns and his all “white” paintings, including his own all-white rendition of his iconic American flag collage. Perhaps a white canvas with no paint, or with merely a single splotch of white paint in the center?

“It’s not a play about art, it’s a play about friendships,” offered the moderator. True. Friendships viewed through the prism of attitudes about art. But “Art” could just as easily be X or Y, which is the brilliance of this play and why it still works so well that it has been translated from its original French to over thirty languages. But it does help to know that Yasmina Reza’s play originated in France where art is taken so seriously that everything from the best of the Louvre to Jerry Lewis movies are considered “art.”

The painting in question is a 4 x 5 canvas of diagonal white stripes on a white background that a dermatologist has bought for 200,000 francs. His visiting friend laughs and calls it “a white piece of shit” and feels that his friend has been had and couldn’t possibly be “moved” by such a painting. Another mutual friend has separate discussions with both friends where individually, he seems to agree with each of them, although his accommodating attitude is confronted head-on when the three meet together.

Aside from the comic dialogue that is delivered with fervor here by three Steppenwolf ensemble members K. Todd Freeman and Francis Guinan, along with and John Procaccino, directed by ensemble member Rick Snyder—who have known and worked with each other often enough that playing friends is hardly a stretch, the way that the characters’ lives each unfold through their art attitudes is fascinating but also, their view of strictness and freedom, so paramount as to how we view art or life itself. Those of us who have liberal attitudes about art, such as Serge, will often be extremely dogmatic on something far less abstract; in this case, Serge goes ballistic when one of the friends is detained and comes a few minutes late. The “rules” of art can be easily shattered and still be appreciated by Serge, but apparently not the hands of a clock. Likewise, Yvan, the peacemaker and middle-man, finds that he is so accommodating that he is about to marry someone who has already completely taken over his life in ways that he is befuddled to comprehend: not making a decision can be a form of making a decision by allowing someone else to make it for us. And Marc, the onetime mentor to Serge, who is really most offended that his friend would make such an expensive purchase without his consultation, is gradually coming to terms with the fact that a mentor, like a parent, has to “let go” or else becomes a co-dependent. The play is a powerful and entertaining reminder that when a friend attacks our “taste,” our politics, our ideas on just about anything, much more is at stake and we get a rare and potentially illuminating glimpse of ourselves as we present ourselves to the outside world and as others see us. (Dennis Polkow)

“Art” plays through June 7 at Steppenwolf Upstairs Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted,  (312)335-1650. $20-$70.

"Whiff of Anarchy"/Photo by Dan Merlo

By Sharon Hoyer

Over the last eight years, The Seldoms have quietly built a reputation for creating astute, inquisitive dances that engage the surrounding world both physically and intellectually. This weekend, The Seldoms premiere three new works by three choreographers at the Dance Center of Columbia College. Artistic Director Carrie Hanson discusses her new piece, a duet entitled “Thrift.”

In your description of “Thrift,” you mention the multiple meanings of the term economy and how they “sit in opposition.” Could you elaborate?

I talk about economy a lot in my classes—in reference to approach to work, moving away from muscular force. I focus on ways of moving expansively: with virtuosity, but not muscularly. I focus on moving with intent, from the skeleton—that’s something I’ve been interested in ten years. Toward simplicity. That simplicity feels very much in contrast to what’s happening with the economy. I think most people on the street don’t understand the mechanisms of what led to the current situation because it’s all so complex. When you listen to the weekend news programs, the experts say that some people saw this coming, but no one was connecting the dots, or people weren’t listening to those who were. The sense is that someone wasn’t doing his or her job. I by no means believe this short dance (it’s only ten minutes) covers this topic exhaustively—it could easily fill an evening.

The subject of simplification and frugality brings to mind the piece you choreographed last year, “Monument,” which addressed excessive consumption and waste. Did you find these two pieces speaking to each other at all?

I didn’t approach this as a continuation of the topics in “Monument,” but I see connections between the two of them. I wonder if this just comes from my own interest in…in how we lead our lives. And consumption is such a part of the American way of life. Because of my income and lifestyle, I can’t participate in a whole lot of consumption, but I think about this all the time: what can I have? What can I afford? What drives my idea about what I want to have?

Can you tell me a little about the partnership with Paige Cunningham?

Paige and I come from very different movement backgrounds. She has a lot of classical ballet training. She danced with Merce Cunningham (no relation), so she has a very different approach to form and attack that I don’t have. I come from release-based technique…I move very passively. We move in unison quite a lot in this piece; some of my peers have watched it and said “you move differently and have to find common ground,” and some found the contrast interesting. I choreographed a piece on Paige a while ago, and she’s wonderful to work with; she’s so incredibly disciplined.

There’s an afterparty and fashion show after the Saturday performance. Is this tied directly to the costuming in 3×3?

All the designers in the fashion show were involved with the performance. I wanted to feature their work in a different form, along with the work they do for themselves. This is the first time Anke [Loh, Art Institute professor and designer for “Thrift”] has made something for The Seldoms. She’s very exacting. She’s interested in atypical beauty and low-glam, which is fine with me; I’ve been trained to work against the notion of costume—which has such theatrical references—and more toward garment. I’ve always been interested in beauty. Maybe I want to work with fashion designers because of things I desire, wanting more clothes myself.

Would you like to talk a little about the other two pieces in 3×3: “Whiff of Anarchy” by Darrell Jones and “Triggers” by Liz Burritt?

Well, I’m in “Whiff of Anarchy.” Darrell is an exceptional person and a true artist. He’s so embodied; he uses his own physicality as resource. To be in the same studio with him—not while he’s generating choreography, but while he’s generating images—he’s tremendously resourceful at that. He brought in videos of riots and images of conflicts and protest, so we were surrounded with rich source material. It was a lengthy and deep process. Liz is incredible, wonderful to work with. I wasn’t directly involved with “Triggers,” but Liz works with text, voice and song; the cast gets to do some singing. It was a great period of growth for the dancers.

At the Dance Center of Columbia College, 1306 S. Michigan Avenue (312)369-6600. February 19 & 20 8pm, February 21 7pm. $24-28.

Photo: Herbert Migdoll

By Dennis Polkow

From the opening notes of the 1913 world premiere of Stravinsky’s “Le Sacre du printemps” [“The Rite of Spring”], there were catcalls due to the audience’s inability to recognize what instrument was actually being heard (a bassoon, a low-pitched instrument by nature, forced to the unnatural upper extreme of its range). By the time the work’s infamous repeated dissonant chord came in and the curtain opened to an encircled group of dancers with long braids, painted faces and long smocks all stomping wildly on the floor and breaking every convention of classical ballet, the audience became more and more audibly agitated until a full-scale riot finally broke out in the theater mid-performance, complete with fistfights in the aisle. Impresario Serge Diaghilev had told conductor Pierre Monteux to keep the performance going “no matter what” and Stravinsky himself had already retreated backstage where he was holding on to the coattails of dancer and choreographer Vasalav Nijinsky, who was shouting out the counts to the dancers because the music could no longer be heard amongst the chaos.

Fast forward ninety-six years later when choreographer and dance reconstructionist Millicent Hodson is taking a group of Joffrey Ballet dancers through those same revolutionary paces during an intense day-long rehearsal at Joffrey Tower. “That’s it,” she shouts, “cupped hands. Reach.” Two pianists are pounding away a dizzying array of notes to a conductor with his head in both Stravinsky’s orchestral score and the four-hand piano version; the orchestra itself, which has its own rehearsal schedule, will not be combined with the dance element until the dress rehearsal.

Catching Hodson on a less frantic Sunday morning, she sums it all up: “ ‘Sacre’ changed everything.” Hodson’s own fascination with the work goes back to her childhood where, as someone who had been dancing “since the age of three, hearing the piece made me want to be an orchestral timpanist, which was not really a feminine option when I was growing up,” she says as she hums the famous syncopated timpani pattern in perfect rhythm. The revolution that “Sacre” caused that is still resonating became increasingly fascinating for Hodson as choreographers took more and more liberties with it: “Everyone has their own ‘Sacre’ because the score is so evocative. During the 1960s, it was often staged as an orgy reflecting the counterrevolution, sometimes erotic, sometimes violent, but I became increasingly fascinated with what Nijinsky’s own original intentions actually were.” Although there were photographs and newspaper accounts that largely concentrated on the riot, “Sacre” had only been staged another handful of times in its original form and the particulars of its steps became lost to history when Nijinsky later ended up in a mental institution.

Was it possible, Hodson pondered, to do some detective work and attempt to reconstruct what those first steps had been? One valuable ally in the process was none other than Robert Joffrey, whom Hodson had first met when she was an undergraduate in 1971. “We had a long talk about the piece, and many other things,” Hodson recalls, “and he was intrigued. ‘Call me when you have something,’ he said, ‘and make sure that I am the first.’” From the beginning, Joffrey recognized the immense importance of such a reconstruction and wanted his company to be in on the ground floor.

Hodson’s detective work meanwhile became more and more diligent, one puzzle piece after another gradually coming to light and fitting together piece by piece, among these being Nijinsky’s sister Bronislava Najinska, who had danced the piece, and his assistant Marie Rambert, both meticulous eyewitnesses to the preparations. Another gold mine was getting Stravinsky’s assistant Robert Craft to share a photocopy of Stravinsky’s own score from the premiere preparations with the composer’s own annotations from rehearsals.

The reconstruction, which by now included equally detailed re-creations of the costumes and sets by artist Kenneth Archer, who became Hodson’s husband along the way of their shared journey, received its premiere by the Joffrey Ballet in 1987, just a year before Joffrey’s death. “He was already ill,” Hodson recalls, “but was so excited.” A documentary on the reconstruction process was prepared and an entire Joffrey performance filmed, which was widely shown on PBS for a time but which has remained unavailable on DVD due to union restrictions, although Hobson is grateful that, as she puts it, “It remains one of the most widely pirated videos on the planet.”

Meanwhile, Chicagoans will have a rare live chance to experience the fruit of Hodson’s long quest to reconstruct a revolution as part of the Joffrey’s Winter Program as a centennial salute to the Ballet Russes that spawned “Sacre” and other monumental dance works from 1909 until Diaghilev’s death in 1929.

The Joffrey Ballet’s “Winter Program” runs February 18-March 1 at the Auditorium Theatre, 50 E. Congress Parkway, (312)902-1500. $25-$145.

RECOMMENDED

Toshiki Okada’s cutting-edge theater/performance company chefitsch has been turning heads in the Tokyo performance scene for the last few years, recently winning the prestigious Kishida Kunio Drama Award for “Five Days in March,” a show that takes place in the spring of 2003, at the beginning of American military strikes in Iraq and the moment when Japan found itself involved in international conflict for the first time since World War II. Though Okada calls the piece anti-war, its characters seemingly remain fundamentally distant from current events and political concerns, sequestered in a love hotel and practicing vices and escapism of various kinds.

What makes “Five Days in March” and Okada’s theater unique is its challenge to representational theater, taking the form of abstracted yet dramatic narrative that fills in the often empty gap between theater and performance art. Both the show’s choreography, consisting of movement disintegrated from speech, and its language, which has been dubbed “super real” Japanese for its fragmentary, abbreviated and often incomplete speeches, are anchored in Okada’s sense that our reality resembles realism onstage much less than we imagine. “I reproduce the real, inarticulate way that average people actually speak, because one of the things I want to express is what lies within that ineptness… and in reality it is extremely rare for body movements to complement or reinforce the words we are speaking,” he explained in a 2005 interview.

As for the disconnect between the characters’ experience and the war abroad, Okada argues for the expression of our relationship to the political as one characterized by both distance and personal connection: “I feel that committing ourselves to anti-war movements doesn’t seem to fit us… we have this attitude that involves concern with some degree of distance, but it is not that we are not concerned. Some people see this as a work showing young people who have no concern at all about the war and are only interested in sex, but I personally think of this as a firm anti-war play.” For those in search of this kind of emotional honesty, as well as those interested in abstracted theater and hybridity between genres of performing arts, “Five Days in March” should provide a provocative springboard for thought. (Monica Westin)

February 20-22 at the Museum of Contemporary Art, 220 E. Chicago, (312)397-4010.

Steve Haggard, Marcus Trushinski (top)

RECOMMENDED

“Oh, you’re going to that patriotic baseball show,” said a colleague when I mentioned I was heading out to Writers Theater for the world premiere of “Old Glory.” “Write one for the Gipper.” Yes, the confusion was understandable, given that this show is being promoted with a picture of a baseball trophy and sports a title that is a traditional moniker for the American Flag. Of course, once you know that this is the latest from Chicago playwright Brett Neveu, that clues you in that there is more here than meets the eye. Much more.

A war play, family story and crime mystery all rolled into one, Neveu unfolds his carefully constructed narrative one flap of a flag at a time amongst three pairs of characters who are coming at the death of a soldier from different vantage points: a father cornering his dead son’s commanding officer in a bar, a mother interacting with her dead son’s best friend, and two soldiers from different worlds, both geographically and psychologically, constantly confronting each other as much if not more than the enemy.

Yes, this is the Iraqi war, but what is so haunting about this show is that it could virtually word for word have come from the Vietnam War era when I witnessed firsthand virtually identical dialogue encountered here. And by showing the effect of a solitary soldier’s death both on the battlefield as well as on the homefront, the ethos of war is etymologically examined in a profound way by having the audience share in the pain and loss of all involved. On another level entirely, the show is a mystery where puzzle pieces are revealed one at a time, the audience coming to cathartic epiphanies along with the characters.

As you would expect from Writers Theatre, the ensemble acting is absolutely first-rate, and under William Brown’s direction, your heart will pound and then break during some of these emotional confrontations of helplessness in the face of utter destruction and seemingly senseless loss; some go through the motions of life trying to move on until they fall apart, others are simply so numbed by the shock that they drown themselves in beer. The soldiers retreat to their tent, anxious to remove the horrific images of the dead count of the day with drug-laced liquor and by pretending they are comic-book action heroes.

Aside from how compellingly and refreshingly Neveau unspools his yarn—the entire show is a relentlessly streamlined ninety minutes with no intermission—he resists the temptation to make this a political period piece with discussions of the pros and cons of why America went to Iraq in the first place: this is a show about trying to pick up the pieces for all of us now that we as a country have made that journey, for better or worse. (Dennis Polkow)

“Old Glory” plays through March 29 at Writers Theatre, 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe, (847)242-6000. $40-$65.

Mike Bradecich, Lori McClain, Lauren Dowden, Sam Richardson and Joey Bland (photo by Bob Knuth)

RECOMMENDED

So last week Rod Blagojevich went on the radio and slammed Illinois legislators as a bunch of losers and lechers, sparking this hilarious headline on Chicagoist.com: “Bitter Blagojevich Drinks Springfield Haterade.”

The timing was perfect—coming just one day after Second City opened “Rod Blagojevich Superstar.” Seriously, does Blago have a financial interest in the show? He’s doing one hell of a job marketing this ode to his idiocy. Because yes, he’s a lowlife egomaniac and the human equivalent of the herpes virus. And yet his continued delusions and obsessive media whoring, it’s kind of golden, no?

National late-nighters hit paydirt with the guy—the coif is a punch line all its own; big ups to “Daily Show” for “Scumdog Million-Hairs”—but Second City’s “Rod Blagojevich Superstar” is the first major flaying of the ousted governor by (and for) the people who actually voted him into office.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, but comedy is best served fast and reckless, and director Matt Hovde understands this in a big way. Jokes about political backroom bullshit fly faster than Blago’s thicket of bangs on a gust of lakefront wind, and somehow it all feels right.

As portrayed by Joey Bland in a black turtleneck and super-deluxe luxuriant wig, Blagojevich is a blissed-out douchebag ignoramus convinced of his own messianic powers. (Actually, Bland looks a little like Sean Hannity under all that hair, and I would argue that, despite their opposing political leanings, they actually have more in common than you’d think.)

In this skewering of all things Rod (and a few things Burris), “Jesus Christ Superstar” was an inspired choice to parody. When Lori McClain’s ball-busting Patti Blagojevich belts out, “I don’t know how to fucking love him,” it’s like some kind of musical theater karmic justice is being handed down on a silver platter. McClain’s performance really got me—the look on her face suggests Patti is a gal who sees life as one long bar fight. Oh Patti. (Nina Metz)

At Second City e.t.c. in Piper’s Alley,1608 N. Wells, (312)337-3992 or secondcity.com. Tues-Wed 8:30p. $14. Through March 18. After that, it moves to Upstairs at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, 800 East Grand, (312)595-5600, through September 6.

Chris Sullivan

RECOMMENDED

Eugene O’Neill’s expressionist nightmare of proletariat anger in America, astutely updated by director Sean Graney and the Hypocrites. Chris Sullivan gives a fervent, monumental performance as Yank, a coal-shoveling hulk aboard a steamship whose self-consciousness is first expressed in tirades about his adamant control over the world: “Hell in de stokehole? Sure! It takes a man to work in hell. Hell, sure, dat’s my fav’rite climate. I eat it up! I get fat on it! It’s me makes it hot! It’s me makes it roar! It’s me makes it move! Sure, on’y for me everyting stops. It all goes dead, get me?” After the daughter of a steel industrialist visits the engine room and, horrified, calls Yank a “filthy beast,” he struggles violently and increasingly articulately against his role in society back on land, through a series of highly stylized, feverish scenes pitching him against various institutions that would ignore or reject him. The streak of genius of this production lies in the role of cultural relocations and abstractions presented in each scene, from scatting prisoners writhing like snakes around Yank in a claustrophobic jail cell to 5th Avenue socialites leaving church reimagined as disco-goers; in stark contrast Yank stumbles, the epitome of cruel realism, marking in no uncertain terms the theater and audience as a place of privilege and fantasy. The final chilling scene, in which Yank confronts a silent ape at the zoo, actually draws shudders. Technically spectacular lighting, sound and, especially, set—based around a three-story ship’s cross-section that offers as beautiful an embodiment of social strata I’ve seen—further inform and modernize the truly avant-garde production. (Monica Westin)

At the Goodman Theatre, 170 N Dearborn, (312)443-3811. Through Februrary 21.

Photo: Brian Pastor

RECOMMENDED

Playwright Lillian Hellman lived a life that required three memoirs to contain it. Her final volume, “Scoundrel Time,” covered the difficult years of her blacklisting in Hollywood and her testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee during the height of the Communist witch-hunt. In bringing this memoir to the stage, adaptor Terry McCabe makes a bold choice: rather than creating a one-woman show in an extended monologue, or expanding it into a fully staged play full of actors, he economically wraps the many bold-faced names that inhabited her world into the single character of “The Memoir.” That character is then used to interject bits into the monologue—like a staging of the congressional testimony—that expand the theatricality of the work. In the hands of the wrong director and actor, this might result in utter confusion. But Adrianne Cury’s direction is spot-on and Jerry Bloom plays the crazy quilt of roles that make up The Memoir with admirable agility: one minute he’s Hellman’s longtime lover, Dashiell Hammett, another he’s Clifford Odets, then he’s an Italian shopkeeper and a second later an Irishman. It’s a dazzling performance that hops from character to character and accent to accent with assurance. As The Memoirist, Sheila Willis inhabits Hellman physically, from her hair and dress to her assured stage manner. Her Hellman is not a woman of great subtlety or even emotion, but one of ample conviction, especially in herself. Willis plays Hellman as a plainspoken straight shooter, courageous but not romantic. Ironically, many believe that Hellman set the model for the mendacious memoir. Either way, she convinced me: lights up and I wanted more. (Brian Hieggelke)

At City Lit, 1020 West Bryn Mawr, (773)293-3682, through March 8.

RECOMMENDED

Griffin Theatre Company’s “The Robber Bridegroom,” which got its start at the Ravinia Festival in 1975, triumphantly returns to its city of origin. Alfred Uhry’s adaptation of Eudora Welty’s novella is a downhome, high-energy, racy good time.

Set in nineteenth-century Mississippi, the show follows wealthy planter Clemment Musgrove (Michael Pacas), who is saved from robbery and murder by thief Jamie Lockhart (Cameron Brune). Musgrove invites Lockhart to his plantation to meet his marriage-age daughter; mayhem and music ensue. Like any pioneer tale, the story is rough and bloody but the show’s dark streak keeps the country content from becoming corny.

The sharp ensemble displays the uniformly excellent singing and dancing ability as well as the comedic timing the piece requires. Standouts include Amanda Hartley as scheming step-mother Salome, Caroline Fourmy as Rosamund, the planter’s daughter who aches for romance, and Steve Best as villainous robber and aspiring kidnapper Little Harp. (Lisa Buscani)

At The Theatre Building Chicago, 1225 W. Belmont, 773 327-5252. Through March 29.