Review: South Side of Heaven (Second City)

     
     

A morbid comedy of fate done to perfection

     
     

(L-R) Edgar Blackmon, Holly Laurent, Katie Rich, Tim Robinson, Timothy Edward Mason, and Sam Richardson. Photo by Michael Brosilow

  
The Second City presents
  
South Side of Heaven
  
Directed by Billy Bungeroth
Musical direction by Julie Nichols
at The Second City Mainstage, 1616 N. Wells (map)
open run  |  tickets: $22-$27  |  more info

Reviewed by Jason Rost

Watching “Saturday Night Live” this past year I’ve tried hard to believe it’s on its way back to a quality decade. There are currently some talented cast members and writers, a few with Second City roots. However, I am consistently disappointed. Every sketch comes off as a stale parody of a brilliant sketch from past golden ages of the show. I was not exactly sure what was missing until I saw The Second City’s 99th revue, The South Side of Heaven. After over 50 years, Second City has managed to continue to stay current, take risks and find ways to still shock audiences through comedy. South Side shakes the status quo with writing that is absurd, truthful, and at (L-R) Holly Laurent, Sam Richardson • Photo by Michael Brosilow.times, refreshingly dark. Don’t expect a laugh-line at the end of each scene in this revue. There are moments of silence and reflection to take in comedy writing that is more than just a collection of sketches. Director Billy Bungeroth (critically acclaimed for his e.t.c. show still running, The Absolutely Best Friggin’ Time of Your Life our review ★★★½) maintains an aspect of comedy that is currently non-existent in the NBC counterpart to Second City: it remains vital.

Bungeroth of course has an unbelievably talented group of actors and writers in Edgar Blackmon, Holly Laurent, Timothy Edward Mason, Katie Rich, Sam Richardson and Tim Robinson. While Richardson gives what may be the best Obama impersonation I’ve ever seen, if there’s only one name to store away from this cast, Robinson is the one. He is bravely sardonic and juvenile as the outgoing Mayor Daley, complete with a flapping cape that is the Chicago flag. This is juxtaposed by Edgar Blackmon’s no-nonsense rapping version of Rahm Emanuel who, with a mob boss’ glare, reminds us to “Pay your taxes.” Robinson also showcases his commitment to his scene partner, which happens to be a Chipotle burrito, in one of the scenes I most identified with, along with a horde of other Chicagoans whose mouth waters at the glimpse of the gold foil wrapped delicacy on a billboard.

It also must be noted that, in part, what makes the casting of this show extraordinary is that there are two African-American actors, something Second City and other Chicago comedy venues fail at historically. The impact is that this allows the stereotypes of whites and blacks to be played to the edge; it also allows the African-American actors to play roles that have nothing to do with race, such as a truly heartfelt, hilarious and truthful segment featuring Robinson and Richardson. Robinson is a 30-something who still believes he’s going to play basketball for the Bulls, while Richardson is a United Center security guard who has aspirations of being a ninja. Heck, as he states, “I’m practically a ninja already.” The friendship and imagination in this scene plays out delightfully, especially to a Gen X and Gen Y crowd who may or may not still play NBA Jam on an old Sega Genesis.

Laurent and Rich complement each other perfectly in their scenes, and hold their own as the female voice in this male dominated cast. They never quite play the sex object—even as Kobe Bryant’s escorts they are still tongue-in-cheek as opinionated Chicago Polish babes. In another piece, Laurent is an English teacher hiding domestic issues which the smart outspoken Rich, as her student, sees through. The message in this scene attests to teaching our youth more facts about how the “real world” works. The segment could also hold its own as an incredible ten-minute play.

     
(L-R) Holly Laurent, Tim Robinson. Photo by Michael Brosilow. (L-R) Timothy Edward Mason, Holly Laurent, Katie Rich, Edgar Blackmon •  Photo by Michael Brosilow
(L-R) Holly Laurent, Katie Rich • Photo by Michael Brosilow (L-R) Timothy Edward Mason, Tim Robinson, Sam Richardson, Edgar Blackmon • Photo by Michael Brosilow

Thematically, South Side makes a comedic case for one of the nation’s largest problems. In America, people do not think of themselves as poor or middle class. Everyone is wealthy and successful and only in a temporary rut. We are constantly looking upward. People continue to overspend and over-live thinking that the future version of them will be rich enough to afford it. This is why people love American Idol and The Lottery, because it provides the illusion that “Joe Schmo” can become an overnight millionaire, or, why Mayor Daley fought so hard to get Chicago the Olympics, even when it wasn’t fiscally reasonable. South Side professes that people might try realizing that EVERYBODY’S life is miserable regardless of how perfect other people’s lives seem to be. While the show doesn’t entirely bash having dreams and aspirations, it does suggest that there are simply certain fates that cannot be altered. Perhaps only Cubs fans truly understand this notion, and in the best sketch of the night, the rousing debate between Cubs fans and Sox fans transcends the “Red Eye” obligatory June front cover and encroaches upon the territory of Jabari Asim (author of “The N-Word”).

The outrageous and darkly absurd also make several appearances throughout the night. Laurent has created a character reminiscent of Mary Catherine Gallagher, only the awkwardness is amped way up. A scene in with Robinson is the driver of a Chicago tourist horse drawn carriage ride (with Richardson dedicating all of himself to the part of the horse) goes to a place you don’t see coming, and keeps going. And Robinson earns the full exposure award of the night for unabashedly leaving nothing on stage as a captivating dancer.

(L-R) Tim Robinson, Sam Richardson • Photo by John McCloskeyAnother absolutely brilliant scene stars the quick witted Timothy Edward Mason as a TSA agent. Without giving too much away, this segment revolves around the new full body screening at airport security check-in sites. However, it becomes about so much more as it uses the audience, without their knowledge, to unquestionably prove how fragile our identities really are in the over exposed society we live in.

The technical and musical elements play an exceptionally large role in this production. Spotlights don’t always illuminate what we should be looking at. Julie B. Nichols’ music direction provides for very effective live accompaniment. Her transition music is a heavy quick dance beat that keeps the crowd lively. Sarah E. Ross’ set screams contemporary…and Apple Store, something that is both visually fresh and opens itself up to parody for the actors.

For those of you who treat Second City a little like Blue Man Group (you saw it 7 years ago and enjoyed it and you’d like to get back one day), do not make this mistake with South Side. All Second City shows are not created equal. There is no better way to come out of your winter hibernation than to laugh uncontrollably at this show. It may even make you change some of your Facebook privacy settings, reanalyze race in Chicago, and accept what life has dealt you with a stiff drink taking in this revue, created by some of the best in the world at what they do. You might even call them the “Montell Jordan” of comedy.

  
  
Rating: ★★★★
  
  

(L-R) Holly Laurent, Timothy Edward Mason, Katie Rich • Photo by Michael Brosilow

South Side of Heaven is in an open run at The Second City Mainstage, 1616 N. Wells. Shows are Tuesday through Thursday 8PM, Friday and Saturday 8PM and 11PM, and Sunday 7PM. Tickets are $22 Sunday thru Thursday and $27 Friday and Saturday. Tickets are available by phone at (312) 337-3992 or online at www.SecondCity.com.

     
     

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REVIEW: Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I’m Dying (Apollo)

Lovely lies, perfectly preserved

 

A Civil War era America gets amusingly preserved in 'Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I'm Dying!'

Apollo Theatre presents
  
Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I’m Dying!
 
Written by Joe Anderson and Demian Krentz
Directed by
Amanda Blake Davis
at
Apollo Theatre Studio, 2540 N. Lincoln (map)
through July 31st  |  tickets: $15  |  more info

reviewed by Lawrence Bommer

Not your usual blast from the past, this delicious, daffy and demented spoof of an imaginary Victorian-era correspondence between two strategically separated brothers amounts to a kind of sit-down comedy. It’s two hours of perfect parody as Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I’m Dying! exactly apes the ornate letter-writing style of a A Civil War era America gets amusingly preserved in 'Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I'm Dying!'century and a half ago. And it works equally well as a delightful exercise in deadpan absurdity. Silly and funny are far from mutually exclusive: The proof is this archly phony recitation of manufactured adventures.

Over the last decade comedians Joe Anderson and Demian Krentz have merrily concocted a series of letters exchanged between the hypothetical Binjimmons brothers, Chauncy and Adam, pontificating blowhards and gasbags with style to  spare. It’s here debuted as a major historical reclamation, here performed–as a breathless curator (Karen S. Chapman) describes–for the first time in chronological order from 1864 to 1871. Adding to the artificial authenticity is a musical backdrop by fiddler Kevin Madderson and a series of cleverly appropriated 19th century photographs and drawings depicting the brothers in love and war.

In the course of correspondence the brothers emerge as a kind of 19th century Beavis and Butthead. Without quite realizing the awful secrets they reveal, the letters recount Chauncy’s cowardice as a Confederate soldier, his desperate trek to the still wild West where he weds a whore who he thought was a nurse because “the hospital shared the same wall as a bordello,” and has his incredibly faithful dog stolen by a band of fur traders. Chauncy goes on to destroy scores of trees in order to create a Barnum-like entertainment complex. He slaughters buffalos to satisfy his need for sandwiches. He remains recklessly clueless of the carnage he commits wherever he wanders.

Meanwhile, ensconced in their family home in Virginia, brother Adam manages to sire a big-headed baby who’s captured by Indians, loses track of his randy father (a closet Mormon) and his deranged mother, who manages to terrorize a town before disappearing into the wilderness. When Chauncy is kidnapped by a crew of fur-loving partisans who despise him for leveling their forest, he’s rescued by his brother and a posse of courageous courtesans. It’s so crazy you almost think it just might be true…

 

Demian Krentz as Adam Binjimmons in Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I'm Dying Joe Anderson as Chauncy Binjimmons in Shoot Faster, Dear Brother, I'm Dying

Complicating matters is the fact that five years of letters appear to be missing, only to be found just in time to fill in assorted gaps during the second act.

The remarkable feat–worthy of Mark Twain and other tall-tale tellers–is how well the author-performers capture the baroquely ornamental flavor of the era. With breathless zeal and unflappable seriousness, they deliver their hilariously flowery prose, festooned with overwrought aphorisms mingling with anecdotes of casual cruelty. Chauncy, a pathological liar when he’s not a self-pitying hypocrite, can mention the approach of a little boy, only to correct himself a moment later by saying it was actually a large man who was further off. The Binjimmons will never use four words when ten will do even better. The result is an embarrassment of riches which occasionally is just an embarrassment.

A closer recreation of 19th century humorists can’t be imagined nor should it. Or as the theater charmingly puts it, “Chicago theatergoers who have long clamored for an epistolary comedy about the Civil War, featuring a live fiddle players and photos of old things, will finally be able to check their item off their collective bucket lists.” Indeed.

  
  
Rating: ★★★½
  
  

 

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