'Mirror of the Invisible World'

Written by Mary Zimmerman

Showing: Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, through July 29

Tickets: $20-$68

Phone: (312) 443-3800

By Lawrence Bommer

CFP theater editor

Ten years ago theater genius Mary Zimmerman lavishly explored the poetic love stories of Nizami, a 12th century Persian writer whose "Haft Paykar" ("Seven Beauties") regales readers with tales told to an amorous King Bahram by seven multi-national princesses over the course of one wonderful week. Newly revived in Goodman Theatre's much larger Albert Theatre with live Iranian music, this Eastern evocation of a world of mystical make-believe, narrated in the sumptuous hareem of a sultan's alcazar, remains a feast for the senses. Though the eyes have it, the ears are equally seduced by this multi-textured treasure show.

A labor of love and for love, "Mirror of the Invisible World" (Nizami's literary title is also the play's name) takes place in Daniel Ostling's palatial pavilion diaphanously lit by John Culbert. Each tale is color-coordinated to the princess who spins it, its theme intertwined with its hue. The black tale, for instance, warns against lovers rushing their infatuation into artificial expectations and getting so lost in each other till they lose any sense of their selves. The green one exposes the naivet?© of trying to think love through. The Russian princess' red tale is the famous one of icy Turandot and her tests of love; the purple one a Kurdish legend of a traveler rescued by a girl and avenged by a princely protector. The yellow story extols the virtues of patience over passion. Set in a secret garden, the comical white one equates the hazard lovers risk (here falling props) with the doubts that imperil future happiness, and cautions against complacency.

As before, Faran Tahair plays Bahram with all the impetuous astonishment that Yul Brynner brought to his patriarchal potentate. Depicting more than the storytellers, the seven lovely actresses/princesses throw themselves into a host of fantastic personages, imaginatively exaggerated, cunningly caricatured and gorgeously costumed by Mara Blumenfeld.

Unfortunately, these depictions mark the greatest change from the 1997 original. In her zeal to sell these stories to all buyers, Zimmerman has broadened them, injecting shades of slapstick and bits of burlesque, as if to prevent us from having to meet these exotic stories halfway. Much of the delicacy of what we see is undermined by the roughness of what we hear. When the lover in the "white story" reminds us more of Lucille Ball at her most hysterical, something suggests that this is not the time trip we were meant to take. Nizami is not Boccaccio and for an Oriental treasure trove "Mirror" is entirely too scrutable.

'August: Osage County'

Written by Tracy Letts

Showing: Steppenwolf Theatre Company, 1650 N. Halsted, through Aug. 26

Tickets: $20-$60

Phone: (312) 335-1650

By Lawrence Bommer

CFP theater editor

The latest theatrical bombshell from Tracy Letts (author of such corrosive dramas as "Killer Joe" and "Bug") plays like a highlights collection from dysfunctional family classics. There's the booze-ridden recriminations and drug-fueled mad scenes from "Long Day's Journey," the spousal squabbling of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" and Achilles-heel fighting straight out of "Glass Menagerie." As one character says, "This situation is fraught." Most astonishing is an ending that's exactly taken from "The Little Foxes," with the vicious family matriarch left abandoned by the daughter for whom she sacrificed everything.

At three and a half hours and featuring a cast of 13, Anna Shapiro's Steppenwolf world premiere is generous, if you like toxic soap opera. Eventually, it's overwhelming, as if a tranquilizer dart kicked in and the shock effects of pederasty, illegitimacy and incest no longer registered. But there's no questioning that however grotesque the confessions and upchucking the revelations, they carry the shock of the familiar and the thrill of the known.

The plot device that assembles this nest of vipers is almost too easy: the clan's patriarch Beverly Weston (played by the author's father) kills himself, providing the pretext for a family reunion in a hot Oklahoma country manse. Immediately immersed in the snake pit, we're introduced to the spiteful, vindictive, pill-popping widow (Deanne Dunagan, ferociously cast against her delicate type), dying of mouth cancer, and the three daughters whose worthless love matches reflect and perpetuate the parents' monumental marital mess. There's a randy uncle preying on his very willing teenage niece, two cousins who are into more than kissing and an aunt whose happiness consists of belittling her imbecile son. In sharp contrast and with great dignity, Kimberly Guerrero plays the Native American housekeeper who witnesses the Westons' self-destruction with the same hapless passivity with which her ancestors saw Indian Territory carved up into Oklahoma.

Shapiro's ensemble includes Steppenwolf's sturdiest character actors, particularly Rondi Reed as a tough-loving harridan mother, Amy Morton as the undervalued daughter who turns on her monster mother and Jeff Perry as her cipher of a husband, a philandering professor who should never get tenure.

Carnivorous to the end, "August" is a play that in effect eats itself up as, disposing and dispensing, it hurls its characters from the house, their miseries pitilessly but realistically unresolved. By default, our sympathy goes to the dead father whose suicide slowly and surely makes all the sense in the world. The play quotes T.S. Eliot saying (early in his career), "Life is very long." So is "August: Osage County."

'Just Say Love'

Written by David Mauriello

Showing: Bailiwick Repertory Theatre, 1229 W. Belmont Ave., through Aug. 26

Tickets: $30

Phone: (773) 883-1090

By Brian Kirst

Contributing writer

For those plagued by the summer's humid denseness, Bailiwick Repertory's Pride Series offers the perfect antidote with their enjoyably breezy production of David Mauriello's "Just Say Love." This light, philosophically charged romance between two unlikely companions is both agreeably cute and mildly heady, offering weary observers a charming evening of theater.

Computer geek/wannabe artist Guy is approached by preternaturally horny construction worker Doug in the park one afternoon. Working with Plato's theory that we all are perfect as solitary beings until the right match arrives, Guy tries to resist his attraction to the straight-identifying Doug. Soon, though, the two are meeting for afternoon trysts focused primarily on fulfilling Doug's sexual needs. Of course, emotional entanglements ensue and as Doug's female lover gives birth to their child, changes occur and life-altering decisions must be made.

Mauriello's script is ripe with slice of life humor and he nicely builds the joy and awkwardness of the maturing relationship between Guy and Doug. He reaches beyond the clich?©s of the sensitive gay man and the macho brute to establish two understandably human characters. A couple of monologues placed towards the end of the show alter his seamless flow of one and one encounters. The notion presented in the first?Äîthat God created the world from an orgasm?Äîis also unique, if un-tantalizing. He falters slightly with some too coincidentally cute moments, and some change of season interludes could have been accomplished more efficiently, yet these incidents do not harm the overall cozy strength of the show.

Director Michael Gillett simply and efficiently moves the action along. He also coaches realistic, deeply felt performances from his two cast members. Gillett's snappy directorial flow deadens momentarily with some long scene changes, but his emotionally intuitive nature shines throughout this reliably sweet enterprise.

As Guy, Todd Aiello delivers a believable, sincere and comically conflicted individual. He injects strength of bearing into circumstances that could have been construed as needlessly pathetic. In the more difficult role of Doug, Nathan Cann emerges as a performer of honorable instinct and credibility. Aside from a few performance-heavy moments, he gives a true heart and baffled emotionality to what could have turned into a stock portrayal. He is a joy to watch and makes your heart yearn for his slightly animalistic and eventual societal norm-rejecting anti-hero.

Granted, the most subversive element of this shiny production is the frequent use of Lou Reed's classic "How Do You Think it Feels." But, even old Lou, who has settled into domestic tranquility and his role as the Grandfather of Punk, would probably find much to enjoy in the quirkily charming "Just Say Love." Mauriello, Gillett and the solid cast ultimately make this a summer oasis that many may want to indulge in.