THE MORNING LINE

DATE: Tuesday, February 11, 2014

FROM: Emily Meagher, Michelle Farabaugh

PAGES: 13, including this page

NY Times Total Daily Circulation–876,638 Monthly Online Circulation–19,500,000

February 11, 2014

Bundle of Joy, Confusion and Doubt

Rebecca Gilman’s ‘Luna Gale’ Opens at Goodman Theater

By Charles Isherwood CHICAGO — The sobering themes of “Luna Gale,” the new play by Rebecca Gilman having its premiere at the Goodman Theater here, have a sad, strange currency. Ms. Gilman’s drama, about a fight over the fate of a baby in jeopardy, concerns itself with two pathologies that have been much in the news: sexual abuse within a family and the corrosive effects of drug addiction. (I probably don’t need to explain why those problems have been screaming from the headlines lately.) But the characters in “Luna Gale,” a smart and absorbing if sometimes overburdened drama, are not the kind of folks to garner media attention. There’s no glamour attaching to the meth-addicted young couple who come to the attention of a children’s welfare worker, Caroline (Mary Beth Fisher), after they take their baby, the title character, to the hospital with a gastrointestinal problem. Peter (Colin Sphar) lies slumped and practically comatose in the waiting room where the parents have been parked while their child receives medical attention for dehydration. His wife, Karlie (Reyna de Courcy), twitching as if she were being tasered from inside, bounces off the walls, spraying Skittles around the room and down her husband’s throat. It takes but a moment for Caroline to glean that these two are in the throes of methamphetamine addiction. Their baby, she tells them with little ceremony and a sense of wary familiarity, will not be returned to them until they have established their ability to care for her. From left, Colin Sphar and Jordan Baker in the premiere of Rebecca Gilman’s “Luna Gale,” directed by Robert Falls and playing in Chicago. Liz Lauren/Goodman Theater The fate of little Luna becomes a burdensome new case for Caroline, a social worker whose warmth has been drained away by decades of witnessing families torn apart by poverty, addiction, family dysfunction: the unholy trinity of contemporary American culture. Ms. Fisher, a veteran Chicago actress, gives a dry, unfussy and unsentimental performance that grows in depth as her character becomes caught up in a conflict that reactivates long-buried sources of sorrow and causes tension between her and the younger man now in charge of her department. When she learns that Karlie’s mother, Cindy (Jordan Baker), is willing and eager to take over care of the baby, Caroline is initially relieved. Placement with a family member, she well knows, is far preferable to putting children into the overburdened foster care system. Cindy, who has been estranged from the 19-year-old Karlie since the girl began acting out (and getting in trouble with drugs) at 15, seems to be an earnest, upstanding woman. Her pronounced Christian faith is at first a source of mild amusement to Caroline. When Cindy refers to Jesus as her “personal savior,” Caroline offhandedly jokes that the phrase makes her think of a personal

NY Times Total Daily Circulation–876,638 Monthly Online Circulation–19,500,000

trainer. But after visits to Karlie and Peter convince her that they deeply love their child and are doing their best to overcome their addiction — without much help, because the local rehab programs have long waiting lists — Caroline becomes alarmed when Cindy expresses a determination to gain permanent parental rights. Fueled by her deep religious belief, Cindy sees her own daughter as irredeemable. Ms. Gilman, the author of “Spinning Into Butter,” “The Glory of Living” and “Boy Gets Girl” (all seen in New York), among other plays, has found a tough, complicated subject. She steers the drama into deeper and deeper waters as she explores the moral dimensions — and the moral ambiguities — of the case. Like some of Ms. Gilman’s prior work, “Luna Gale,” directed with finesse by Robert Falls, is fundamentally an “issue” play. It focuses an unsparing light on the dilapidated infrastructure of underfunded welfare programs. Much has been written about the explosion of drug dependency in surprising pockets of the country — the play takes place in Cedar Rapids, Iowa — and Ms. Gilman’s play connects the dwindling support for counseling and treatment with the fraying of the social fabric. As is often the case with plays driven by ideas, however, “Luna Gale” sometimes sacrifices nuances of character to create taut drama. Caroline’s supervisor, Cliff (Erik Hellman), is bluntly drawn as an officious bureaucrat who holds Caroline responsible for a previous tragedy in the department. More problematic is the surprise that Ms. Gilman springs at the close of the first act, when Caroline, hitherto (and hereafter) depicted as a woman of unflinching integrity, makes a suggestion to the young parents that involves a serious lapse in her principles. As things play out, we learn that she was heeding instincts that turn out to be correct, but the moment strikes a false note. The acting is largely excellent. Ms. de Courcy could profitably give us a few more glimpses of the loving mother underneath Karlie’s glum surface. But Ms. Fisher is utterly superb as Caroline, never more so than during a scene in which Cindy’s spiritual adviser, Pastor Jay (Richard Thieriot), who has struck up an alliance with her supervisor, coaxes an unwilling Caroline into participating in a prayer. Her air of mild contempt slowly slips away as memories of her unhappy youth steal upon her, and, despite the armor of studied professionalism, Caroline finds herself melting into tears. Although its churning plot sometimes stretches credibility, “Luna Gale” remains an engrossing exploration of the tough choices welfare workers contend with daily. Caroline has to maintain the distance necessary to judge objectively what is best for the children in her care, but doing the job well also requires sensitivity, intuition and compassion. And, of course, the stakes are painfully high; getting the balance right is never easy, and getting it wrong can lead to tragedy. Luna Gale By Rebecca Gilman; directed by Robert Falls; sets by Todd Rosenthal; costumes by Kaye Voyce; lighting by Robert Wierzel; music and sound by Richard Woodbury; dramaturge, Neena Arndt; production stage manager, Joseph Drummond. Presented by the Goodman Theater, Mr. Falls, artistic director; Roche Schulfer, executive director. At the Goodman Theater, 170 North Dearborn Street, Chicago; 312-443-3800, goodmantheatre.org/luna. Through Feb. 23. Running time: 2 hours 5 minutes. WITH: Jordan Baker (Cindy), Reyna de Courcy (Karlie), Melissa DuPrey (Lourdes), Mary Beth Fisher (Caroline), Erik Hellman (Cliff), Colin Sphar (Peter) and Richard Thieriot (Pastor Jay).

Total Daily Circulation–1,586,757 Sunday Circulation– 2,003,247

February 11, 2014

Mind Over Matter, Battling a Bandersnatch

In ‘The Wong Kids,’ a Sister and a Brother Turn Superheroes

By Laura Collins-Hughes Like Clark Kent and Peter Parker, the 11-year-old Bruce Wong is a sweet guy who inhabits the dweebier end of the social spectrum. His big sister, Violet, implores him to stop being such a nerd. He sits on his front lawn, trying to move rocks with his mind, and she’s mortified — until he succeeds. “I have superpowers!” Bruce exults. That plural is premature, but soon both he and Violet, 13, possess all the powers they need to save the universe in Lloyd Suh’s exuberantly imaginative adventure for children, “The Wong Kids in the Secret of the Space Chupacabra Go!,” at La MaMa. The magic of Ralph B. Peña’s production, presented by La MaMa with Ma-Yi Theater Company, comes from its theatricality: live actors, inventively simple sets by Meredith Ries and whimsical puppets by David Valentine, whose evil Space Chupacabra — the threat to the universe — resembles a three-dimensional Pac-Man, its mouth poised for planet gobbling. The show borrows visual conventions from cartoons, rendering the scary parts deliciously scary, and aural conventions from the movies, because doesn’t every superhero space quest need a soaring underscore? Adult actors play the child heroes: Alton Alburo is charmingly eager and un-self-conscious as Bruce; Sasha Diamond’s Violet is racked by nascent adolescent angst. Both prove worth cheering for. When Bruce levitated that first rock, the 7-year-old boy in front of me burst into applause. Later, watching Violet use the same superpower to battle the villainous Bandersnatch (Curran Connor, hilarious in several roles), he danced in his seat. As in any worthwhile adventure, there are lessons to be learned here: about the importance of siblings, the power of fantasy and the legacy of bullying. The bad guys in “The Wong Kids” used to be bullied, too. The darkest moment of the play belongs to Violet. Like many a hero before her, she must defeat a negative force within herself: a longing for conformity, partly based on embarrassment about her Asian-American heritage. But “The Wong Kids” embeds its messages in fun, and its insistence on being extraordinary proves the upside of standing out.

NY Times Total Daily Circulation–876,638 Monthly Online Circulation–19,500,000

February 11, 2014

Raging Ambition, and Then Some

‘Actress Fury,’ a Dance-Theater Work Set in a Dressing Room

By Laura Collins-Hughes The cacophony rises as the voices of the three women overlap: the first singing, the second talking into a microphone, the third speaking directly to the spectators while she moves among them. Eventually, the singer has had enough. “I can’t even hear myself!” she erupts. “You guys are just loud. And annoying.” It’s a scripted rant, but not all of the dissonance in “Actress Fury,” at the Bushwick Starr, is deliberate. This dance-theater piece, by Jennie MaryTai Liu and her company, Grand Lady Dance House, is nominally about actresses and ambition. But what she Ms. Liu has to say on the subject is largely lost in layers of unfocused activity. “Actress Fury” ostensibly takes place in a dressing room, with the audience surrounded by mirrors. In reality, the theatergoers sit on benches forming a long oval around the performance space. Narrow, curving strips of foil striate the black walls behind them. The experience is apparently meant to be immersive, but the layout contributes to the sprawling disjointedness of the piece. Actual mirrors might have helped with tricky sight lines as Ms. Liu and her fellow performers, Hannah Heller and Alexa Weir, move through the space, their choreography sometimes synchronous, sometimes abandoned. The three, who created the 55-minute piece together, play a single actress. An appealingly spiky humor emerges in a series of screen-test scenes, in which the actress is required to respond to absurd cues like “Can you project some energy out of your forehead?” But there is a frustrating sense throughout that less might have been more. Lines from Sophocles’ “Ajax,” about the great warrior who met a shameful end, are woven into the script. True, a vivid pink sword is a well-used prop, but why “Ajax”? The magnetic Ms. Liu, won admirers in 2010 with her choreography and performance in “Soul Leaves Her Body,” which prominently included video. “Actress Fury” has none, but it provokes a longing for the sharp editing of film. At the end, there is a perfectly focused moment when the three performers are contained inside a tight square of white light. We see then what has been missing: clarity, born of limitation. “Actress Fury” continues through Saturday at the Bushwick Starr, 207 Starr Street, Brooklyn; thebushwickstarrorg.