Displaying items by tag: Linda Buchanan

Goodman Theatre’s production of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom arrives with the weight of expectation - and under the dual direction of Chuck Smith and Harry Lennix, it does not merely meet that weight, it reshapes it. This is not a revival of August Wilson’s searing text; it is a precise, muscular excavation of its tensions, its music, and its truths.

From the outset, the production leans into what makes Ma Rainey distinct within Wilson’s canon: its compression. There is no sprawling Hill District, no generational sweep - only a room, a day, and a reckoning. Smith and Lennix understand this pressure-cooker structure and allows it to simmer deliberately. The pacing is patient but never indulgent, each pause and eruption calibrated to expose the fractures between the woman, the men and the system that contains them.

At the center stands E. Faye Butler’s Ma Rainey, and “center” is not metaphorical - it is gravitational. Butler embodies what makes Ma singular among Wilson’s women: she is not surviving the system, she is making the system bend to her will. Where characters like Rose in Fences or Bertha in Joe Turner’s Come and Gone endure with moral resilience, Ma operates with economic and performative authority. Butler’s Ma is unapologetically self-possessed, openly sensual in her relationship with Dussie Mae, and fiercely aware of her value. Every demand - a Coca-Cola, a delay, a correction - is less eccentricity than strategy. She dictates the terms, and the room adjusts.

Surrounding her is a cast that functions both as ensemble and as volatile elements in a dramatic equation. Al’Jaleel McGhee’s Levee is electric, restless, and dangerously unmoored. He captures the tragic duality of the character: brilliance tethered to illusion. His performance builds like a slow burn until it detonates, revealing the unresolved trauma and misplaced faith in a system that will never reward him. In contrast, David Alan Anderson’s Cutler is grounded, pragmatic, a man who has learned the cost of survival. Kelvin Roston, Jr.’s Toledo brings intellectual weight, his reflections on Black identity landing with quiet force, while Cedric Young’s Slow Drag occupies the margins with understated authenticity.

The white power structure—embodied by Matt DeCaro’s Sturdyvant and Marc Grapey’s Irvin - is rendered with chilling subtlety. There is no overt villainy here, only the smooth machinery of exploitation. Irvin’s politeness is the point; it is the veneer that makes the system function.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom at Goodman Theatre. (L-R) Jabari Khaliq, E. Faye Butler, Kelvin Roston Jr.

Visually, the production is nothing short of exquisite. Linda Buchanan’s set design transforms the stage into a 1920s Chicago recording studio that feels both expansive and suffocating. The inclusion of distinct spaces - the recording area, control room, rehearsal room, even a suggestion of the street - creates a dynamic environment while maintaining the play’s essential confinement. This is a world built for observation and control.

Jared Gooding’s lighting design elevates this world into something almost cinematic. The suggestion of the Chicago Loop’s overhead train is particularly striking, its presence looming like an industrial heartbeat. Gooding uses light not just for visibility but for composition - creating tableaus, isolating tensions, and guiding the audience’s eye with precision.

And then there are Evelyn M. Danner’s costumes, which operate as visual dramaturgy. The color palette tells its own story: Irvin and Sturdyvant in stark black and white, embodiments of rigid power; the band in various shades of brown, signaling labor, reliability, and earthbound existence; and Ma Rainey in a commanding money-green dress, a walking declaration of her worth. Dussie Mae’s yellow flapper dress, accented with green, subtly marks her proximity to that wealth and power. Even Sylvester’s patterned brown attire hints at his connection to Ma’s orbit. Every choice is intentional, every color a statement.

What ultimately distinguishes this production is its understanding of language - not just Wilson’s text, but the music within it. The scenes among the band members crackle with rhythm and lyricism, their banter and arguments forming a kind of blues composition. It is beautiful, but volatile - a powder keg of masculinity, frustration, and deferred dreams.

What Chuck Smith and Harry Lennix achieve is extraordinary. They do not merely stage Ma Rainey's Black Bottom; they orchestrate it, allowing every performance, every design element, every silence to resonate with intention. Nowhere is that more evident than in Levee’s arc, where Al’Jaleel McGhee delivers a performance that simmers with ambition and barely contained rage, his volatility carefully shaped into a slow, inevitable unraveling.

This is direction of the highest order - precise, unflinching, and deeply attuned to the rhythms of Wilson’s language and the weight of his themes. What emerges is not just unforgettable theatre, but necessary theatre: a production that insists we listen more closely, look more deeply, and reckon more honestly with the truths it lays before us.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: Through May 3

Where: Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St.

Tickets: $44-$84

Info: www.goodmantheatre.org

Box Office: 312-443-3800

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

It’s Christmas 1183, and King Henry II has gathered his family together at his court in Chinon, France, with hopes of settling once and for all the future legacy of the House of Plantagenets by naming one of his sons as successor to the throne.

So, Henry’s three sons, who are all vying to be named king, Richard Lionheart, his eldest surviving son, Geoffrey, his middle son, John, his youngest son (and Henry’s favorite), along with Henry’s mistress, Alais, who is also betrothed to his son Richard, and his estranged wife, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who has been released from prison for the occasion, gather together for a family reunion of sorts. Add in an appearance from the King of France, Philip, whose sister just happens to be the king’s aforementioned mistress, and you have the makings for a truly volatile get-together.

As Eleanor quipped, “Are we hanging the holly, or hanging each other?” And you thought your family holiday gatherings were fraught with tension!

It is against this backdrop of family intrigue, scheming, and naked hostility that “The Lion in Winter,” a fictionalized account of these historic events, is set. The play, written by Highland Park’s own James Goldman, debuted on Broadway in 1966, earning Rosemary Harris a Tony Award for her depiction of Eleanor, and later inspired the Oscar-winning film, starring Peter O’Toole as Henry, and Katherine Hepburn as Eleanor.

I came expecting a serious melodrama centered on the complex interpersonal relationships of Henry’s tattered family, and so was pleasantly surprised to find myself laughing along with the rest of the audience at the sarcastic jabs, verbal taunting, and what in the skilled hands of Director and Resident Artist Ron OJ Parson, was the almost comically inept plotting by the three sons. Despite a play whose main source of action is based on dialogue, I found the performance fast paced and was completely drawn into what was happening on the stage. You didn’t want to miss a word of the verbal potshots being landed right and left between those on stage.

It was the opening night for the Court Theatre’s 2023-2024 season, which now in its 69^th season, has built a firm foundation on reimagining the classics for a modern audience. It was my first time visiting the Tony-award winning theatre, and I will return. What struck my husband and I was the sense of community and camaraderie among the theatergoers. Clearly, the audience was filled with many of the cast’s family members and well-wishers, but the buzz of anticipation among the audience before the curtain came up reminded me of attending my daughter’s high school musical performances, where everyone knew each other. That certainly seemed to be the case here, as greetings were exchanged between rows and sections. We were even greeted warmly by our row-mates, something I have not experienced at other theatres, and it made for a family-like atmosphere in this intimate setting.

From start to finish, the performance was captivating; each aspect working in harmony toward the end goal. The set design, under the direction of Linda Buchanan, was sparse, but effective. The play moved seamlessly from banquet hall to bedroom to dungeon with the mere addition of a chair, a table, a bed. There was little to distract us from the main focus of the drama – the verbal fireworks and emotional interplay between Henry and Eleanor.

Both actors bring a clear understanding of their characters to the performance. John Hoogenakker, a veteran of the Court Theatre, brings Henry’s very personal struggle to remain relevant and stay in control of his kingdom to life through his understated, yet powerful performance. At one point, we witness Henry’s rage and absolute desire to win at all costs against his wife, Eleanor, yet we also are privy to the tender moments as he swears his love and allegiance to Alais, his mistress. There’s also a beautiful scene between Henry and Eleanor toward the end of the second act, where they recall their first meeting and the strong bond of love that once existed between them that was truly moving in its tenderness and depth of emotions.

Rebecca Spence, in her debut performance at the Court, plays Eleanor as a strong, confidant woman, with an intelligent and acerbic wit, who is as determined as Henry to win the day and anoint her own favorite, Richard, to the throne. Yet, Spence also allows us to see Eleanor’s true inner desire, which is to be loved -- by her son, Richard, by Alais, who she had helped raise in the English court, but most of all, by Henry, for whom she has never stopped loving. It’s a masterful performance by Spence, and while her Eleanor made me squirm at her decidedly unmotherly moments, I also felt empathy for her as the spurned, older woman whose time has passed by and who no longer can command Henry’s love.

The three sons are skillfully played as well with Shane Kenyon as the warrior, Richard Lionheart, Brandon Miller as Geoffrey, the quintessential middle child, who continually asks, “And what about Geoffrey?”  and Kenneth La’Ron Hamilton, as the dim-witted inept younger son, John, whose has only one card to play – his father’s affection. The three scheme and change alliances so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the changing teams. At one point, in a hilarious scene, all three end up hiding in Philip’s bedroom, listening as the King of France betrays them all – including Richard’s love for him.

The ensemble is rounded out with a solid performance from Netta Walker as Henry’s mistress, Alais, who brings to the role a tenderness and devotion to Henry that serves to counterbalance the relentless infighting and backbiting among her lover’s family.  I admit I was puzzled at first by the portrayal of Philip, King of France, by Anthony Baldasare, because his character seemed weak and inconsequential against the stronger more dominant characters onstage, but the scene in which he outmaneuvers Henry’s three sons and Henry himself displayed a strength of character and that Philip is as accomplished a schemer as the others.  

 The play ends much as it began, with no resolution at hand. Eleanor must return to prison, and the three sons continue to bicker and fight over who will ascend to the throne.  Yet, in the closing moments, as Henry and Eleanor climb the stairs, arm-in-arm, we sense that they will live to fight for another day, motivated as much by their hate, as by their love.

The family intrigue and infighting charged by greed and ambition that underscores the storyline of “The Lion in Winter” may not be for everyone this holiday season, but its honest, sometimes tender, sometimes humorous, portrayal of life is a performance worth seeing.

“The Lion in Winter” plays at the Court Theatre from Nov. 11 through Dec. 3.