“The Aristocrats”

Written by Brian Friel

Showing: Strawdog Theatre Company, 2826 N. Broadway, through Nov. 17

Tickets: $20

Contact: (773) 528-9696

By Lawrence Bommer

CFP theater editor

“Aristocrats” portrays a prominent Irish Catholic family who have been “educated out of our emotions.” Depicted with bittersweet retrospection by Brian Friel (author of “Dancing at Lughnasa,” and “The Faith Healer”), the O’Donnells were a once-potent legal dynasty; they peopled Ireland’s Supreme Court and their influence--and home--loomed over Ballybeg, County Donegal (Friel’s much-explored imaginary village).

But it’s the mid-1970s and the family, reduced to a selfish tribe with “no passion, commitments or loyalty,” has declined into lies and regrets. These failures Friel attempts to capture with a Chekhovian mix of compassion, melancholy and desperation. Likewise this revival by Strawdog Theatre, which could as easily be playing a very loud “Cherry Orchard.”

But, unlike Chekhov, little happens in the present. A relentless indictment of a cowardly clan, “Aristocrats” consists of inert exposition about deadened souls in a decaying manse. It takes the earnest emoting of an accomplished cast to keep it from sinking into its own Slough of Despond. Mired in denial or fantasy, the O’Donnells are doomed to be misfits in a democratic Ireland. Enfeebled by a stroke, the patriarch (Jack McCabe) rages above, his tyrant’s cackle heard through a baby alarm-intercom. Equally dislocated, Uncle George (Jeff Bruce) has turned mute since he swore off the bottle.

The non-crazed family has uncertainly united for the presumptive wedding of youngest daughter Claire (Shannon Hoag), unhappily entering a loveless match with a man twice her age. Well, Claire finds solace in Chopin, whose melodies almost shamelessly shape the play’s emotions. Claire’s sisters also drift in place. Judith (Anita B. Deely) is miserable as a harried housekeeper and nurse to her petulant father. Alice (Jennifer Avery), now living in London, has turned to booze and bitterness. Unseen Anna, now a missionary in Africa, sends home Christmas wishes full of nostalgia for a warmth long gone.

Most forlorn is eccentric Casimir (manic John Henry Roberts), a fluttering closet case who has created an imaginary family in Hamburg and who, returning home after 11 years, plays equally illusory games of croquet on the grand lawn. Putting the O’Donnells in sardonic perspective are Willie Diver (Kyle Hamman), the village handyman, who offers practical advice and a lifeline to the town, and Eamon (Michael Dailey), Alice’s husband, full of confused anger and tenderness at the memory of how his grandmother toiled as a maid in Ballybeg Hall. In the least plausible part, Tom Hoffnung (Tom Hickey) represents the ultimate outsider, a Chicago academic researching the lack of responsibility of the Catholic landed gentry to the land they exploited for centuries.

Burdened with obligatory flashes of truth, the play bogs down under the weight of unprocessed pathos. Rick Snyder’s’s cast escape a censure reserved for Friel: Avery is particularly powerful in her evocation of passive heartbreak. But too often feelings dissolve into protracted elegies that outlast their capacity to convince.

“Desire Under the Elms”

Written by Eugene OíNeill

Showing: The Hypocrites at Chopin Theater, 1543 W. Division, through Nov. 11

Tickets: $20

Contact: (866) 811-4111; the-hypocrites.com

By Brian Kirst

Contributing writer

In The Hypocrites’ moody and potent celebration of Pulitzer Prize-winning Eugene O’Neill’s “Desire Under the Elms” one can almost sense the distinguished playwright mouthing his speeches from the grave. Indeed O’Neill, rumored to haunt the Boston boarding establishment in which he died in, seems to make an appearance with every bit of nuanced subtext brought forth in this production.

Historically, some of the themes of “Desire Under the Elms” seem to even shadow events in O’Neill’s own life. The thrice-married O’Neill centers his tale upon violent farmer Cabot, who is bringing home the latest of his wives—young and powerfully determined Abbie. This sends his sons Simeon and Peter, from one mother, and Eben, from another, into worried speculations about their inheritance. Indeed, all are pushed aside as Cabot promises his land to Abbie if she provides him with a son. O’Neill, who in years hence would disown his daughter and have very distanced relationships with his two suicidal sons, seems to have a powerful understanding of this fear of abandonment and betrayal. O’Neill’s own volatile romantic relationships, often involving depression and addictions, also seem to get play here as well. Angry Eben and beautiful Abbie fall in love and passionately bring physical and emotional disasters to a murderous head.

Director Geoff Button enthusiastically graces O’Neill’s combination of realism and Greek tragedy with a sure hand. He is especially convincing in creating the essence of the looming specter of Eben’s dead mother. With the help of sound designer Kevin O’Donnell and lighting designer Jared Moore, Button is able to fully establish the power of Eben’s belief in the presence of his long-departed parent. Button is also able to guide multi-layered performances from his cast. That some of the performances are ultimately imbued with a slightly overacted aura does not take away from the final enjoyment of the proceedings.

As Eben, Ian Westerfer skillfully provides an impassioned righteousness and wounded youthfulness simultaneously. As events twist and turn, Westerfer shows us the growth and pain of his character with detailed, thoughtful steps. Audrey Francis’ Abbie, meanwhile, is presented as a clipped, determined burst of sensual energy. As Abbie loses herself in uncontrollable love, Francis beautifully lets us see her character’s armor stripped away. As the other sons, Gregory Hardigan and Vince Teninty convince with a foolhardy camaraderie and a welcoming sense of comedic prowess. J. David Moeller invests his Cabot with the youthful joy and blissful ignorance of a man newly in love. His occasional bouts of rage are truly terrifying to witness. Unfortunately, Moeller’s weakness is his diction, and some of O’Neill’s beautiful speeches are not clearly rendered in his hands. Still, he tackles O’Neill’s difficult combination of classic and modern styles with ease, creating a truly believable character. This is something that the rest of the men, despite their fine performances, are not completely able to do.

Overall, Button and cast shine a fresh, haunted light into the dark corners of O’Neill’s script. This is something that O’Neill, yearnings of urban legends or no, could surely find some peace with.

“The Birds”

Written by David Cerda and Pauline Pang

Showing: Hell in a Handbug Productions, 6205 N. Sheridan Road, through Nov. 17

Tickets: $15-$25

Contact: (800) 838-3006; handbagproductions.org

By Brian Kirst

Contributing writer

In 1968 Leonard Cohen recorded “Like a bird on a wire…I have tried in my way to be free.” The master troubadour would be surprised to find how accurately those lines pertain to Hell in a Handbag’s bitingly funny adaptation of Alfred Hitchcock’s horror classic “The Birds.” For in this jolly enterprise there are indeed many hilarious attacks of birds on wires endured by intrepid cast members. But all is not a joyous romp here. This well thought out production also includes a surprisingly touching look at Hitchcock protégée Tippi Hedren’s attempts to assert herself and try to ease the controlling filmmaker’s overpowering grasp upon her life.

Film fanatics and pop culture snobs are fully aware of Hitchcock’s obsession with his golden stars such as Grace Kelly and, to a more devastating effect, Hedren. Playwrights David Cerda and Pauline Pang wisely use this interesting gambit to make Hedren and her co-stars characters in the play. Therefore, we get not only a campy re-imagining of “The Birds” but also a delightful look at what it might have looked like behind the scenes as Suzanne Pleshette, Veronica Cartwright and Jessica Tandy roamed about. The co-authors also throw modern feminist Camille Paglia into the mix to fully explore the sexual indignities that Hedren suffered at Hitchcock’s hands. Ultimately the poignancy of Hedren’s confusion reigns equally with the laugh-out-loud gags and twisted humor. Luckily, even those unfamiliar with the film should find much to enjoy and relate to here.

Director Scott Bradley moves things along at a rambunctious pace. He also surprises with interludes of well planned delicacy. Aware that an emotional connection to the proceedings helps highlight the more comedic episodes, Bradley allows Hedren’s character to provide a sympathetic touchstone for the audience. Benefited by Miles Plaski’s crystalline sound design and the natural beauty of the lake behind the Berger Park Coach House, Bradley creates an atmospheric oasis of physical comedy and drag-induced musicality. Indeed Bodega Bay, the film’s classic setting, truly seems mere seconds away through the director’s use of Chicago’s own natural setting.

As Hedren and her alter ego Melanie Daniels, Tracy Repep is a marvelous combination of quietly regal timidity and nervously burgeoning strength. Adrienne Smith, as Hitchcock’s devoted assistant Peggy Robertson, is Repep’s perfect foil. With Smith’s masterful turn one never misses the fact that Hitchcock is physically nonexistent as a character. Smith’s every nuanced move clues us into Hitchcock’s all-encompassing influence. He is the glowing specter that hangs over each moment. Sam Brown imbues his Mike with concern and graceful fluidity. It is Ed Jones as Veronica Cartwright/Cathy Brenner who provides the evening’s overwhelming pleasure, though. Jones is truly a genius of timing and intent and should be bowed down to on every street corner in Andersonville for the next month and a half. Cerda’s own take on Suzanne Pleshette/Annie Hayworth is full of rascally sexuality and innuendo. In fact, his reading of “Woman at the End of the Road,” one of the three musical numbers, should put Broadway legend Elaine Stritch on immediate notice.

In all honesty though, the entire production staff and every cast member from Deanna Boyd’s distinguished Jessica Tandy on down, makes this “The Birds” a high-flying, must-see delight.