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The Oscars might be over, but this “Best Actress” is just getting started. Welcome to the weird world of the Grelley Duvall Show, or Alex Grelle. His unique approach to cabaret has amassed quite a fanbase over the years. Suffice it to say, there’s nothing else quite like it. In two acts, Grelle and his team blend his favorite female performances with highly choreographed musical numbers set to toe-tappin’ hits performed by a live band. 

Directed by Kasey Foster, “Best Actress” tells the origin story of the Grelley Duvall Show and what inspired a young Alex Grelle and his creative partner Jesse Morgan Young. Their obsessive knowledge of pop culture as seen through the lens of queer millennials is unmatched. They throw anything from a given day on cable TV in the 1990s into the blender and it’s up to the audience to keep up. The irreverent humor, costumes, and slickly produced video segments add up to an evening of hilarious deep cuts and surprise cameos.

To be honest, not all experimental cabaret style theatre is good. Rest assured Best Actress is not that. Rather it’s a 2-hour musical extravaganza with solid gold choreography by Erin Kilmurray and Kasey Alfonso and a kick-ass band led by (and featuring the vocals of) Aunt Kelly. Alex Grelle is a certified triple threat: he can sing, he can dance and he can kick. The team he’s assembled for this production has made something really special for anyone really, but especially for the pop culture obsessed, vintage shopping community.

Joining Grelle onstage is a powerhouse ensemble - Kara Brody, Madigan Burke, Lolly Extract, Darling Shear, Patrick Stengle, and Mary Williamson - plus a handful of puppets that feel like characters in their own right. And make no mistake: Grelle isn’t the only one throwing kicks. This cast matches his energy beat for beat, putting on quite a show. Again, Killmurray and Alfonso’s choreography is killer.

Grelley Duvall Best Actress is one of those shows it’s almost best to not know much about going in. It’s also one of those shows that should just run open-ended for a while, because once you see it, you’ll be trying to explain to people for weeks what exactly it was. 

Through April 12 at the Chopin Theatre. 1543 W Division St. 773-278-1500

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

“I just want to be entertained. Isn’t that the point?” asks the narrator of The Drowsy Chaperone. And if that indeed is the point, Theo Ubique’s rendition hit the bullseye.

This fun production follows a neurotic musical theatre fan (played by Steve McDonagh) who puts on his favorite record and talks about its fictional history. Thanks to Theo’s inventive seating – a front row made of sofas – the audience feels as if they’re actually in his living too, getting an intimate evening full of laughs as he and the rest of the cast break the fourth wall – even entering and exiting through closet.

The show-within-a-show follows a famous star, her fiancé, and the kooky cast of characters who try to help or hurt the impending nuptials for their own reasons. The result is a musical which never takes itself seriously, as it pokes fun at Broadway shows and troupes.

Everyone turns in a polished performance with each artist getting their moment to shine, whether it’s in a tap-dancing number (expertly accomplished by Trey Pluntnicki and Kevin Chlapecka), a silly vaudeville routine (Jenny Rudnick does enough spit takes to lose count), or a ballad about bunnies – yes, bunnies (sung by Kelsey MacDonald with all the heart and sincerity it needed).

As the “Man in the Chair,” McDonagh anchors the show in reality, but each performer holds the reigns of these larger-than-life characters with precision. Darian Goulding, embodies the Latin lover, Aldolpho, with inspired hilarity from his subtle gestures to that elevated accent. Jimmy Hogan and Chase Wheaton-Werle also stood out as gangsters posing as pastry chefs. Their playful banter and cohesion as a team elevated their numbers and helped sell the silly side plot. Colette Todd, who played the titular character, the Drowsy Chaperone herself, delivered a powerhouse tune with the perfect balance of comedy and chops.

From start to finish, it was clear that the actors were having fun, and their joy was certainly contagious. Directing this production is L. Walter Stearns, and his love of this show was clear in the care in which he handled the material, perhaps because directing The Drowsy Chaperone was a dream come true. In 2004, Stearns had the opportunity to attend an early reading of musical with Sutton Foster, who went on to star in the Broadway cast.

Written by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison (music and lyrics) with a book by Bob Martin and Don McKellar, The Drowsy Chaperone is not a deep musical, and it isn’t meant to be. Instead, it’s a reminder that comedy brings connection, and sometimes it’s okay to just want to be entertained.

The Drowsy Chaperone runs through April 19 at Theo Ubique Cabaret Theatre. For tickets and/or more information, click here.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

With spot-on performances across a large cast, William Inge’s 1949 script for “Come Back, Little Sheba” is receiving a definitive production at American Blues Theater’s intimate Studio Theater. Those of us of a certain age had this work buried deep into our cultural formation by the searing film version starring Shirley Booth, who won the 1952 Oscar and a Tony for her earlier Broadway performance as Lola. 

This was my first time to see the stage version, and director Elyse Dolan goes back to Inge’s original script, which fits beautifully into this captivating 90 minute show (no intermission). The set by Shayna Patel closely tracks Inge’s intentions, right down to the telephone at the base of the stairs. Lighting by Brendan Marble and Sound Design by Thomas Dixon couple especially well in high throttle jazz interludes signaling scene changes or turning points in the plot. And those costumes (Lily Walls) were just what the playwright envisioned, right out of the end of the 1940s.

Cisco Lopez as the Milkman with Gwendolyn Whiteside as Lola.

Contemporary audiences may see ‘Come Back, Little Sheba” as a showcase of the reduced role of women in post-WWII society, their lives centered on homemaking and “keeping their man happy.” But it is something more, too - a portrait of two diametrically opposite personalities - Lola (Gwendolyn Whiteside is remarkable) and her husband Doc (Philip Earl Johnson is a portrait of seething restraint) - locked together in an unbalanced relationship. Inge subtly laces in the clues to their unhappiness. Doc’s ambition to complete medical school was cut short when he felt compelled to marry Lola at 18 after getting her pregnant. Her pregnancy didn’t come to term, and he quit his medical studies. Instead of a doctor he became a chiropractor, and took to the bottle.

Lola, who was a high school beauty queen, has given up caring about her looks under the withering abuse she suffered during his drinking days. But he joined AA, and has eleven months sober - but lives with an internalized rigidity while presenting a caring face to the world around him. Underneath it all, he is filled with resentment.

On the couch, Ethan Surpan as Turk and Maya Lou Hlava as Marie.

A shift has entered this couple's fragile homelife with the arrival of the sprightly Marie (Maya Lou Hlava is perfect in the role). This comely coed is boarding with them, studying art at the university. She has a hot jock boyfriend, Turk (Ethan Surpan is a study in self-assured youthful machismo). Marie also has another boyfriend back home, Bruce (Justin Banks), a well-paid young businessman on his way up.

Inge sends the clues through the behavior of Johnson’s Doc that he is crushing on Marie, and quite jealous of Turk. Eventually his sober resolve crumbles under his longstanding unresolved resentment - that he is not an MD, this new jealousy, and that he is stuck with Lola, who smothers him with attention and coaches him somewhat intrusively on his AA practices. It is also an early serious treatment of the AA 12-step recovery program, founded ion the 1930s. Doc's involvement in it is core the the plot and character motivation. 

Lola, for her part, expresses her longing for better days gone by with a fixation on her runaway pup Sheba. Though Sheba went missing quite a while back, Lola still dreams of her return, and periodically calls for her puppy from the porch. An eternal optimist, she is ultimately the likeable center of the action. Marie and Turk love her. To show Lola through others’ eyes, Inge gives us two other characters, Elmo the Postman (William Anthony Sebastian Rose) and Milkman (Cisco Lopez). Whiteside’s Lola is so lonely she tries almost too hard to engage them, but nevertheless, her open heart compels their empathy and she wins them over. Everyone seems to love Lola except the next door neighbor Mrs. Coffman (Joslyn Jones), who derides Lola over her unkempt house.

In the last third of the play, mayhem breaks loose, and you will be stunned, shocked and glued to your seat by the culmination of this stunning drama. As Tolstoy put it, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” And “Come Back, Little Sheba” shows how true this is. Highly recommended. 

“Come Back, Little Sheba” runs through March 22 at American Blues Theater in Chicago.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.

The Story Theatre’s world‑premiere staging of Paul Michael Thomson’s Pot Girls bursts to life in a vivid, full‑throttle production at Raven Theatre. Pot Girls is a sharp, funny, and thought‑provoking new play that fuses feminist history, artistic accountability, and a rainbow haze of 1980s, weed‑soaked poetry and art.

Inspired as a thematic counterpart to Caryl Churchill’s Top Girls, Pot Girls - directed by Ayanna Bria Bakari - leans into humor, theatricality, and a cloud of intoxication to explore how women create, collaborate, and collide both onstage and off. And in a bit of theatrical serendipity, both productions are currently running simultaneously at Raven Theatre. In fact, Raven Theatre and The Story Theatre are even offering special marathon days, giving audiences the chance to catch a matinee of Lucky Stiff’s directed Top Girls, stick around for some conversation with the creative team, then return in the evening for Pot Girls - all at a discounted rate (click here for details).

The story follows Caryl herself, a playwright on the cusp of her first major, Olivier‑eligible production - a show designed to spotlight women in the workplace. The year is 1982 and as she toasts the achievement with friends, her colorful London flat transforms into an impromptu hub where a lively, time‑spanning cohort of feminist writers drop in to drink, smoke, debate, and probe the ideas she’s celebrating.

The haze of a jubilant night eventually clears, and what remains is a sharper truth: this play lays bare the exhausting contortions women are expected to perform just to gain a foothold as authors and playwrights. It highlights not only the uphill battle of competing in a landscape where men still discriminate against women in their productions regarding creative authority, but also the added burden of being scrutinized for perfect political correctness the moment a woman-led production finally reaches the stage.

The many ways that women as authors have been discriminated against and unfairly censored or even hunted over the centuries is thoroughly laid out in a fantastic cast of intelligent expressive women.

The period feels fully realized, aided by Katelyn Montgomery’s evocative scenic work and Racquel Postilgione’s sharp costume design.

As the play unfolds, Caryl is pulled through a tangle of personal and professional upheaval - romantic tension with her partner Edith, pointed accusations about her racial blind spots, and the mounting pressure to tell women’s stories with integrity. Around her, the ensemble slips effortlessly between roles, embodying historical figures, colleagues, and critics who collectively push her toward an uncomfortable, necessary self‑examination.

In Pot Girls, Brenna DiStasio centers the production as Caryl, offering a steady emotional clarity that grounds the play’s wilder turns and quietly establishes her as its moral anchor. Ireon Roach, as Edith, wields her well-rolled blunt with sharp wit and charismatic intelligence, building a lively, charged dynamic with DiStasio that keeps the energy flowing like a river.

Peter Ferneding lends understated but essential texture as he shifts through historical and contemporary figures, his easy timing playing neatly against Tamsen Glaser’s agile, precise turns as multiple feminist icons, which bring warmth, wit, and tonal delicacy.

Vibrant, expressive energy radiates through each of Emily Marso’s roles, elevating every moment and sparking electric interplay with Glaser and Maya Bridgewater. Glaser and Bridgewater, in turn, deliver a fierce yet deep human presence across their characters, adding tension and charge to the ensemble’s debates. One of Bridgewater’s characters delivers a beautifully crafted, cathartic reflection on a young girl’s kidnapping and rape - written with such grace and restraint that it resonates powerfully with the conversations society is having today about trafficking and vulnerability.

Rounding out the cast, Laney Rodriguez displays a great sense of humor and threads emotional nuance through each character she inhabits, serving as a subtle connective force while carving out memorable moments opposite DiStasio and Roach. As a unit, the ensemble stays quick, engaged, and combustible, amplifying the play’s ideas with palpable charge.

Ultimately, Pot Girls crackles with ensemble energy and sharp ideas, offering an engaging, thought‑rich night of theatre for anyone drawn to fresh feminist work.

Highly recommended.

Pot Girls has been extended through March 8^th. For tickets and/or more show information, click here.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

Kirsten Greenidge’s Morning, Noon & Night, currently receiving its Midwestern premiere at Shattered Globe Theatre, is an ambitious, mind-bending exploration of the “new normal” in post-pandemic America. Greenidge, a playwright unafraid of tonal hybridity, situates her story at the uneasy intersection of middle-class and magical realism. Under AmBer Montgomery’s direction, the production attempts to navigate the landscape of family connection, digital surveillance, and the psychic fragmentation wrought by living life through digital screens.

The play unfolds over the course of a single day in the life of Mia, a work-from-home mother teetering on the edge of burnout. Kristin E. Ellis anchors the production with a performance that captures both the brittle humor and simmering desperation of a woman expected to hold everything together. Her Mia is perpetually toggling—between Zoom meetings and grocery lists, between maternal patience and private panic. Ellis embodies the quiet terror of a generation of women asked to endure the unendurable with a smile.

Opposite her, Emefa Dzodzomenyo gives Dailyn a restless, electric presence. As the hyper-aware Gen Z daughter oscillating between existential dread and a yearning for authentic connection, Dzodzomenyo resists caricature. Her Dailyn is sharp, wounded, and achingly perceptive—someone who has inherited not only climate anxiety and algorithmic pressure but also the emotional residue of her mother’s exhaustion.

The supporting cast deepens the sense of a household under strain. Christina Gorman’s Heather, Mia’s friend and confidant, functions as both comic relief and quiet warning sign—her lingering pandemic anxieties and conspiratorial asides suggest how prolonged fear can harden into identity. Hannah Antman and Soren Jimmie Williams lend a jittery immediacy to Nat and Chloe, capturing the skittish vulnerability of teens shaped by social media’s relentless gaze. That said, both performers read slightly younger than I imagined the characters to be, which subtly shifts the dynamic; their portrayals emphasize innocence and volatility over the more self-aware cynicism often associated with girls of that age.

The production’s most striking presence is Leslie Ann Sheppard as Miss Candice, a “Donna Reed  - Father Knows Best” AI-generated avatar of curated perfection who steps out of the algorithm and into the family’s living room. Sheppard’s performance is chilling in its serenity. With a voice that soothes and a gaze that scans, Miss Candice represents not simply technology but the seductive promise of optimized living—an influencer deity promising order amid chaos. Her presence pushes the play from realism into something more speculative, even dystopian.

Jackie Fox’s set and lighting design effectively ground the story in its post-pandemic malaise. The living room, cluttered yet aspirational, feels very lived-in and slightly unraveling. The use of projections is particularly striking; at times the audience feels as though it is peering through a phone screen. Notifications flicker, curated images intrude, and the boundary between the digital and the tangible dissolves. The design serves as a digital mirror—reflecting how social media refracts reality rather than simply documenting it.

Yet for all its thematic ambition, the production occasionally exposes a disconnect between script and staging. Greenidge clearly has much to say about female rage, consumerism, intergenerational trauma, and the violence of constant connectivity. However, Montgomery’s direction seems to engage these ideas primarily at a surface level, with moments of genuine thematic revelation passing too quickly to fully resonate. The result can feel unintentionally algorithmic—significant insights obscured beneath repetitive beats.

Moreover, despite the performances and the evocative design, the stakes never quite rise to meet the play’s expansive conceptual ambitions. Whether this disconnect stems from the script, or the direction is difficult to determine, but the result is the same: the looming threat of digital colonization and familial fracture hover suggestively rather than landing with decisive impact. The danger feels atmospheric instead of urgent, diffuse rather than devastating.

Morning, Noon & Night offers a portrait of contemporary anxiety, capturing the low-grade dread of a culture caught between the longing for authentic connections and the seductive pull of curated isolation. Like the screens it interrogates, the play pulses and glitches—at times mesmerizing, at times disquieting—but always insistently present, morning, noon & night.

RECOMMENDED

When: through March 28th

Where: Theater Wit, 1229 W Belmont Ave, Chicago, IL 60657

Running Time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets:  $20  -  $60

773-770-0333

www.sgtheatre.org/season-35/morning-noon-night

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

When Raven Theatre’s artistic staff decided to include Caryl Churchill’s Top Girls in their current season, they could not have predicted that the opening would coincide with major eruptions in the Jeffrey Epstein scandal. Now, with the former Prince Andrew in jail and the President of the United States bloviating his innocence, this 1982 British play stings harder than ever.

Lucky Stiff’s smooth handling of a fine cast for Raven’s mainstage makes it clear why the play deserves its status as a feminist classic. From an informal angle, the reaction of a mostly youthful audience watching mostly youthful actors confirms that the stage is still the right place to comment mercilessly on societal injustice.

Nonlinear, nontraditional Top Girls premiered in the first years of Margaret Thatcher’s leadership – an imaginative treatment of the complexities of gender roles. How do you become a “top girl” in a man’s world without losing your soul? Depending on your politics, Thatcher either ran a country with necessary tough love and cooked dinner for her husband too; or she hacked away at Britian’s safety net while using taxpayer-funded help to maintain her Superwoman household.

In Act I, Marlene, the dynamic central character played by Claire Kaplan, hosts a dinner to celebrate her recent promotion at an employment agency. She gathers five historical women at a posh restaurant, sparely and elegantly designed by Joonhee Park, where they pour out their pain along with copious amounts of wine.

As Waitress (Colin Quinn Rice) serves with dispassionate efficiency, the women – explorer Isabella Bird (Susaan Jamshidi), Flemish folklore’s Dull Gret (Yourtana Sulaiman), Japanese courtesan Lady Nijo (Hannah Kato), 9^th Century’s Pope Joan (Morgan Lavenstein), and Chaucer’s Patient Griselda (Luke Halpern) – recount episodes of shocking male cruelty. Multiple accents and overlapping dialogue make the individual stories a little hard to follow. But each cast member creates such a distinct personality that a strong vibe emerges even if some details are lost.

In Act II, Churchill leaves fantasy behind and enters the very real working-class home of single mom Joyce (Jamshidi) and her 16-year-old daughter Angie (Sulaiman) who literally wants to kill her bitter mother. Spoiler alert, Angie flees to her Aunt Marlene’s office in London without doing the deed. There, female staffers interview other females for job placement. As one frustrated woman laments to Marlene, who now leads the department, “I have had to justify my existence every minute.” Centuries may have passed but talented women still fight for recognition.

When Angie shows up unannounced, she gets pushback instead of a warm welcome from Marlene. The teen desperately wants to acquire her role model’s independence, resources and, above all, confidence that mom-figure Joyce so obviously lacks. Marlene can’t hold back the sharp elbows and judges Angie accordingly, a girl who may not have what it takes to survive.

Act III moves even farther away from the play’s stylized opening with an extended scene that’s straight from the kitchen sink realism of post-World War II drama. Occurring a year prior to Act II, Marlene pays an unexpected visit to Joyce’s humble home and presents Angie with a dress that’s straight out of the traditional girlie playbook.

When it comes to success, “I’m not clever,” Marlene insists, “just pushy.” How Marlene has pushed herself to the top is clear by now. What she has pushed aside in the process tumbles out as the three women open their hearts in ways that leave them vulnerable. It is almost frightening. Four decades after Churchill penned Top Girls, news reports of Jeffrey Epstein’s atrocities only seem to confirm her point that womanhood is neither safe nor easy.

Top Girls runs through March 21^st at Raven Theatre. For tickets and information, go to www.raventheatre.com/stage/topgirls.

Recommended.

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.

I love when I’m surprised by a writer I assume is new to the scene, only to discover she has been honing her craft for years, quietly building a body of work the rest of us somehow missed. I love it even more when that discovery feels like striking gold. Such is the case with Kristen Adele Calhoun. A superior writer—assured, funny, emotionally and culturally precise—whose name, until now, had somehow eluded me. With Black Cypress Bayou, now receiving an unbelievable production at Definition Theatre, Calhoun announces herself (at least to Chicago audiences) as a major voice worthy of far more attention than she has received.

Under the smart, lively direction of Ericka Ratcliff, this production hums with comic electricity and emotional undercurrent. Ratcliff clearly trusts the text, allowing its humor to bloom organically while never losing sight of the deeper currents flowing beneath the laughter. The result is a staging that feels both buoyant and grounded—like the bayou itself, shimmering on the surface while concealing depth below.

The play centers on the Manifold women, and Ratcliff has assembled a quartet of actresses whose distinct comedic styles interlock beautifully. Michelle Renee Bester’s Ladybird Manifold anchors the evening with sharp timing and a steadiness that suggests stern resolve and steel. Bester understands that the funniest lines land best when rooted in truth.

Rita Wicks, as RaeMeeka Manifold-Baler, nearly steals the show with a performance that is riotously funny without tipping into excess. Her physical comedy is precise, her reactions razor-sharp. She seems to ride the rhythm of Calhoun’s language like a seasoned jazz musician, finding unexpected grace notes in throwaway lines. The audience’s laughter often arrives in waves when she’s onstage.

RJW Mays brings Vernita Manifold to life with a grounded warmth that balances the more explosive personalities around her. There is a generosity in Mays’ work—a listening quality—that allows scenes to breathe. Meanwhile, Jyreika Guest’s Taysha Hunter offers a refreshing contrast: contemporary, alert, and emotionally transparent. Guest navigates the character’s shifting loyalties and vulnerabilities with admirable nuance.

What makes this ensemble particularly thrilling is that each performer operates in a different comedic key, yet Ratcliff orchestrates them into harmony. The tonal blend—broad, dry, wry, heartfelt—shouldn’t work as seamlessly as it does. But here, it absolutely does.

In a production centering women both onstage and behind the scenes, there is an undeniable sense of cohesion and purpose. Scenic designer Alyssa Mohn, lighting designer Conchita Avitia, and sound designer Willow James conjure a fishing wharf deep in the bayou that feels at once literal and slightly mystical. Weathered wood textures, humid washes of light, and the subtle lapping of unseen water create a world that breathes. The environment is not mere backdrop; it is an active presence.

The costumes further ground the characters in time, economic reality, and personality. Fabric choices, silhouettes, and wear patterns quietly communicate history. We understand who these women are before they speak.

Ratcliff has described Calhoun as “tragically under produced.” After seeing Black Cypress Bayou, that phrase lands with force. If the rest of Calhoun’s catalog carries even half the wit, structural confidence, and emotional intelligence on display here, then Chicago theatres—and American theatres more broadly—have some catching up to do. Calhoun’s other plays, including works that explore Black Southern life, intergenerational memory, and the elasticity of family bonds, reportedly continue her signature blend of humor and haunting. One leaves this production not only satisfied, but curious—eager to track down everything else she has written.

Definition Theatre has given this play the gift every writer deserves: a production that listens, that elevates, that celebrates. Black Cypress Bayou is not simply entertaining, it is invigorating. It reminds us that discovery is one of theatre’s great pleasures. And sometimes, the most thrilling “new” voice is one who has been waiting patiently for us to catch up.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: through March 15th

Where: Definition Theatre@55th, 1160 E. 55^th Street., Chicago, Il.

Running time: 90 minutes no intermission

Tickets: Start at $25

312-469-0390

definitiontheatre.org

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com.