REVIEW: Carmilla (WildClaw Theatre)

  
  

WildClaw starts the year with fang-tastic Gothic treat

  
  

WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre

  
WildClaw Theatre presents
  
Carmilla
  
Written by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
Adapted by
Alyrenee Amidei
Directed by
Scott Cummins
at
DCA Storefront Theater, 66 E. Randolph (map)
through Feb 20  |  tickets: $20  |  more info

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

Purist fans of J. Sheridan LeFanu might curl their toes in horror over the liberties taken with his novella “Carmilla in WildClaw Theatre’s latest action-packed production, now onstage at the DCA Storefront Theater. But then, not knowing any LeFanu purists, just revel in this adaptation’s delightful mix of classic gothic style, self-conscious and knowing humor, insightful take on relationships, energetically executed fight scenes (Scott Cummins and David Chrzanowski) and–oh yes–lesbian vampires.

In our Buffy-Twilight-True-Blood saturated culture, you’ve seen vampires, you’ve seen lesbians, you’ve seen lesbian vampires–that’s entertainment. But WildClaw’s production, under Scott Cummins’ direction, cunningly returns audiences to the original dangers of women loving women, plus the wild danger inherent in giving oneself over to love, period.

WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront TheatreYoung Laura (Brittany Burch) is on the cusp of womanhood, passing her days at her father’s (Charley Sherman) rural schloss with only her governesses Madame Perrodon (Mandy Walsh) and Mademoiselle LaFontaine (Moira Begale-Smith) for feminine company. Amusing as the older women are, Laura craves a companion for which to socialize. The visiting and slightly amorous General Spielsdorf (Brian Amidei) has a ward, Bertha (Sara Gorsky), who just might fill the bill. However, word of her sinking into a mysterious illness cancels any chance of Laura making her acquaintance and draws the General away to see to his ward’s care. Laura faces her disappointment stoically, as well as the teasing Perrodon and LaFontaine give her on being a prospective match for the General. Living where they are, few options exist from which to choose a mate who could appeal to Laura romantically. She accepts that any marriage might have to be sensibly arranged for her future security more than anything.

During a family outing in the moonlight, a carriage careens by and almost crashes—three strangers emerge from the accident, a veiled woman, a younger woman who has collapsed and a servant in an eye patch. The veiled woman (Erin Myers) seems mysteriously familiar to Laura’s father but she refuses to reveal her identity. She only discloses that she must hurry on to take care of business critical to their family’s welfare, but doesn’t dare to take her weak daughter any further on the journey. Laura’s father offers to take the girl in for the three months the woman requires to secure their future. So it is that Laura becomes friends with the strange and fascinating Carmilla (Michaela Petro), who has seen Laura’s face in a dream, just as Laura has seen hers in a similar dream.

Cummins’ direction strikes a steady and creative balance between building eerie tension and swinging into bursts of action that enliven the storyline and push the plot forward. Beyond the excitement of fight scenes, the play’s interjection of gypsies, either at play or at mourning, work to disrupt the close, fever/dream relationship between Carmilla and Laura, as well as suffuse the play’s atmosphere with foreboding, unrelenting superstition. Superstition is gospel among this play’s lower orders, but its upper class characters are never far from its infecting influence. Dr. Hesselius (Steve Herson) seems at times as helpless as any medieval physician—resorting to bloodletting as part of Laura’s “cure” when she falls under the same wasting illness that takes Bertha’s life.

But more to the point, Burch and Petro successfully capture the delicate sensuality that was an intricate part of 19th century genteel women’s relationships. Even before Carmilla begins to put the moves on Laura, their relationship wobbles along a fine line between friends and lovers. Carmilla may have seduced others, but she invests earnest passion more in the chase than in the conquest. As for Burch, she skillfully renders Laura with all the befuddlement of a young woman who, besides not knowing about the birds and the bees, simply cannot know or imagine the emotional impact overwhelming love can have. Carmilla dominates Laura from the possession of greater knowledge and experience and maintaining the mystery about her.

     
WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre
WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre

Aly Amidei’s script has taken the best of LeFanu’s poetic text and interwoven it with a clearer feminist impulse. Carmilla comes across as more of an intellectual in this play than she does in LeFanu’s novella. Carmilla’s story also benefits from Amidei integrating 19th century beliefs about suicide leading to vampirism and the dead needing to be staked down so that they do not rise and prey upon the living. The men who come after Carmilla, the General and the Ranger (Josh Zagoren), strike the exact note of righteous masculinity prevailing against the disorder of a feminine fiend. Going after vampires is not without its humorous moments, though, and these are well played by Herson and Sherman.

Having so much going for it, it’s disappointing when instances of amateurism plague the show. There were times I simply loved Bertha (Sara Gorsky), Carmilla’s earlier prey-turned-vampire, prowling the countryside like a feral beast, only to watch her animality go over the top in other scenes. Carmilla’s occult powers over Henri (Scott T. Barsotti), her competition for Laura’s affections, also strained credibility and made his departure to go hang himself more laughable than convincing.

All in all, though, Wildclaw shows real dedication to intelligent horror entertainment. Audiences won’t be fed the same old vamps but something that evokes the rich subtly of women in close personal relationships. They will also find Charlie Athanas’ special effects and the sound design of Mikhail Fiksel and Scott Tallarida well paired with LeFanu’s language, rounding out Carmilla as a good, solid gothic treat.

  
  
Rating: ★★★
  
  

WildClaw Theatre presents 'Carmilla' at DCA Storefront Theatre

 

     
     

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REVIEW: The Lonesome West (The Gift Theatre)

  
  

Laughs and loneliness in the Irish countryside

 

 Lonesome West

  
The Gift Theatre presents
   
The Lonesome West
  
Written by Martin McDonagh
Directed by Sheldon Patinkin 
at
The Gift Theatre, 4802 N. Milwaukee (map)
through Dec. 19  |  tickets: $20-$30  |  more info 

Reviewed by Barry Eitel

There’s something oddly Midwestern about Martin McDonagh’s depiction of the Irish hamlet Leenane. There are a few scenic landscapes and a ton of boredom. Perhaps that’s why Chicagoans react so well to his homicide-riddled plays. Even though we’re oceans apart from Connemara, something seemed very familiar in The Gift Theatre’s production of The Lonesome West. I believe I’m less inclined to murder, but the monotony of Valene’s and Coleman’s existence is definitely relatable.

The Lonesome West is part of a loose “Connemara trilogy” of plays set in the West Irish hills, the other being Beauty Queen of Leenane (which Gift put up a few years back) and A Skull in Connemara. Although Lonesome West has much less stage blood than many other McDonagh’s plays, it’s still rife with violence. Two brothers (masterfully portrayed here by John Gawlik and John Kelly Connolly) bicker constantly over just about everything, from money to bags of chips. Frequently, the spats boil Lonesome West2 over into armed duels. The brothers’ relationship causes plenty of heartache for the local priest, Father Welsh (Paul D’Addario), who is already wracked by oodles of Catholic guilt and alcoholism. The quartet of characters is rounded out by Girleen (Brittany Burch, who makes a terrific Chicago debut), a girl who might be jailbait, but could also be much more sentimental.

Probably the most striking aspect of the production is the fiery dynamic between Gawlik, who plays the wrathful Coleman, and Connolly, who portrays the miserly Valene. Lonesome West a great example of a play which comes off much different on the stage as opposed to the page. Gawlik and Connolly are tip-toeing towards middle age, which makes the childish infighting of Valene and Coleman feel especially pathetic. When merely reading McDonagh’s text, this doesn’t particularly jump out, it’s easy to forget the character’s ages when they act so immature. But Gawlik and Connolly force out the characters’ pettiness, the major driving force for the production.

Obviously, Gawlik and Connolly have much more than their age going for them. The duo has an engaging chemistry. They can barely hide their glee as the two brothers one-up each other. Gawlik is able to mine dark, vicious depths for a truly spiteful Coleman. Connolly, on the other hand, finds the grubby greediness of a five-year-old.

D’Addario, a Gift favorite, gives another great performance. He comes off as essentially Catholic, sickened and saddened by what he sees around him, but unsure about how to proceed (which, in turn, leads to more guilt). Through Lonesome West, McDonagh joins the leagues of Irish writers before him that comment and struggle with the dominant faith of their island. In the semi-mystical style that modern Celtic playwrights love, the play basically becomes about the damnation of souls, a spectacular turn that works despite seeming destructively heavy. D’Addario is a big part of making the plot churn forward, and he is successful.

Along with D’Addario, the story wouldn’t work without the solid performance of Burch. At first, her Girleen just seems like silly, flirtatious eye candy, but the character’s complex layers shine through as the production progresses. In fact, my favorite scene is the one without the brothers. Halfway through the piece, D’Addario and Burch share a stage alone and the outcome is electric, dripping with loneliness and desperation.

Sheldon Patinkin’s direction shows a smart understanding of the tumultuous relationships that McDonagh writes so well. The first half is uneven, slack in pacing and the cast seems a little timid. It takes until after intermission for the show to start shooting sparks. Once everything snaps together, the production flies. For a show often billed as a black comedy, there’s a hefty amount of heart.

   
   
Rating: ★★★