Displaying items by tag: Andrew Bosworth

“Southern Rapture” quickly elicits loud guffaws from the audience, a heartening circumstancve, as it means playwright Eric Coble’s script is doing its job. Billed as a satire, it recounts the tumultuous week in real life leading up to the 1996 opening night of Tony Kushner's celebrated AIDS play, “Angels in America” in Charlotte, NC. But what might have been a tragic recount of small-minded efforts at artistic repression gets turned on its head, a potential tragedy mined for comedy, with an ending that is at once affirming and exhilarating.  

This show at Theater Wit, produced by three-year-old Tin Drum Theatre Company, is loaded with broad humor, and is something of a backstage comedy as well. For purposes of the script, Charlotte becomes a generic southern city, and Kushner becomes Anton Finewitz, and his vaunted work is transformed into “Rapture in America.” 

The show parodies not just the reactionary forces that sought unsuccessfully to keep “Angels in America” from running. It also takes aim at the theater company, its governing board, local government, and the national media that spun the controversy into the unnuanced, dualistic divisiveness that seems to have solidified as a way of American life today. 

As “Rapture in America” barrels toward dress rehearsal, a big supratitle flashes the daily countdown to its local premiere. In an opening monolog to the audience, Marjorie Hooper proudly tells us, “The play’s won the Pulitzer, Tony, Drama Desk Award, an Evening Standard Award, the Rainbow Excellence Award and an ASPCA citation—We’re one of only six theaters in the nation to get the rights to do the show outside of New York!” Indeed! 

When word gets around there will be full frontal male nudity in the show, the gears of progress run unevenly, and almost grind to a halt. Company director Marjorie Winthrop (Shannon Leigh Webber) attempts to insulate her performers from the backlash, which comes in the form of Reverend Dupree (Andrew Bosworth) and a town gadfly Lavern Jackson (Jenny Hoops). Jackson has read the script and counted the number of mentions of “cocksucker” and other notable perversions to the Charlotte Town Council. (In a content warning to the audience, Jackson’s list includes “one penis,” which indeed appears in the second act at Theatre Wit.)

Charlotte Mayor Winston Paxton (Teddy Boone), ever even-tempered, tries to stay above the fray. His aspirations for transforming this growing city into a world-class metropolis have netted a symphony orchestra, a national sports franchise, and now, an important regional theater company, about to move into the big leagues. But the mayor is beginning to feel unsettled, praising the season’s opener, "The Odd Couple," and encouraging Marjorie to do something other than “Rapture.”

“There’s still gonna be plenty of art!,” the Mayor argues. “It’s just art we can all appreciate. Because that ‘Odd Couple’ was one of the goddam funniest things I ever saw in my life.” But Marjorie will have none of that, declaring the play "epic." 

It even dares to cut through the slavish devotion accorded "Angels in America" and Kushner himself, asking a if this two-part six-hour "epic" work might be too much in a town that likes to get home in time to catch Jay Leno.  

"'“Epic' meaning?" asks the mayor. "Three hours, two intermissions," Marjorie tells him. "And that’s just Part I. Part II is three hours too."
"Good lord, is this a play or a telethon?" asks the mayor, and the playwright punctures the unquestioned aura that seems to envelop Kushner and his fans. 

 Amid the brewing ontroversey, Marjorie conjures up a “bubble” for the players, a send up of that too precious psychobabble affectation that performers may have seen once or twice:

Marjorie: We’re in the bubble, say it with me.

Players: We’re in the bubble.

Marjorie: And what do we do in the bubble?

Players: We make art in the bubble.

Even theater reviewers get skewered in the no-holds-barred script: 

“When I have something to say,” says beleaguered Mayor Paxton, “I’ll talk to a real reporter.”

“I am a journalist,” Simon Larisher (Jordon Gleaves) retorts, to which the mayor replies, no, “You’re a theater critic!” Ouch! 

The playwright specifies just seven actors should play the 16 roles, and director Jason Palmer and the high-caliber cast carry this off wonderfully. Particularly notable are Andrew Bosworth as the protesting preacher Reverend Dupree, and two of his nemeses: the playwright who has flown from New York into the fray, and company member Mickey Steadman, who will deliver the full monty. Bosworth plays the roles distinctively and we have no confusion.

Even more so for Mary Ann Bowman as the theater company board chair, the district attorney, and the over-the-top Nyla-Jean Geisy, a winged creature essential to the play within this play. Likewise for Gleaves, who carries off very well with the support of a good script four roles, including the TV host of “Night Line” and a Franklin McManus, a highly effective lawyer given to flowery South Carlina colloquialisms.

Beyond its funny rendition of what it must have been like in Charlotte in 1996, “Southern Rapture” does something more. For me, it’s a reminder that we can recover from our seemingly intractable current state of social affairs. After all, we’ve done it numerous times in the last three decades, and even following the darkest of times in the 1950s with McCarthyism and the blacklisting of creatives. 

Back in the real Charlotte, “Angels in America” opened to record ticket sales, and the protests withered in the face of ticket-buyer preferences. Though the theater company that produced it saw its funding cut in retribution, a successor there commissioned this very funny “Rapture in America,” which feels cathartic all in all.

Now “Angels in America” is the stuff of celebrated revivals, and no one blinks an eye. So we do make it through these times of darkness, the forces of Steven Miller, Trad Wives and Andrew Tate notwithstanding. And we will recover from our current predicament too. 

Even with some clunkers among its running gags and jokes, “Southern Rapture” is highly recommended. It runs at Theater Wit through June 28, 2026.

“Viva La Mort: A Play With Songs” mines the 1956 Swiss novel “The Visit” by Friedrich Durrenmatt that came to further fame in a 1964 Hollywood melodrama with Ingrid Bergman and Anthony Quinn. In the original, a wealthy woman arrives in the poverty-stricken hamlet of her childhood, offering to restore the town and provide a bounty for each of its citizens, with one condition: she wants the man who spurned her as a youth, but now is a pillar of the community, to be killed. How far will the citizens go in exacting her retribution?

This is one of The Conspirators’ most ambitious efforts, and resident playwright Sid Feldman  (it's directed by Wm.Bullion) has artfully updated the storyline—the setting moves to small town Michigan, the wealthy woman is modeled after Madonna, and some fresh faces fill major roles. This includes Andrew Bosworth, who leads the cast as Mort Miller, the love interest of Viva, familiar to audiences for recent roles in “Innocence of Seduction” and “Man of the People.”

The title character, Viva, is played by Libby Conkle, who is superlative. So is Liam Ouweleen as her current flames in three convincingly delivered dialect roles: Spanish Lonnie, British Konnnie, and the American jock, Johnny. It was remarkable to see actors more schooled in naturalistic performance adopt The Conspirators unique style, with exaggerated expressions and heavy makeup playing against the continuous commentary of the percussionist, Aimee Bass. All were game for The Conspirators’ approach and blended pretty smoothly with the regular troupe. 

Costumes by Kit Medic are among the best we've seen at The Conspirators, a critical element for the character of Viva. And aspects of the show are on a par with the best The Conspirators have produced. (The hilarious "Commedia Divina" "Commedia Divina" returns in October 2024; don't miss it.)  

Alas, one weakness lies in the script, which might have been improved by cutting it into a single act of 90-minutes, instead of two acts with intermission. The first half lags, and scenes are inflated to allow for stage funny business, the stock-in-trade of The Conspirators’ neo-commedia dell'arte format, which they dub “The Style.” A sense of slapdash detracted from the power of the story, which examines how townsfolk will turn on their own, when enough money is dangled before them.

Sets were minimal, but this isn’t doesn’t detract from “Viva La Mort,” as is true of most of The Conspirators shows. The high energy hijinx are completely absorbing and largely entertaining. One other problem was the sound, which was good overall, but weak in a crucial scene where Viva sings wearing a headset that unfortunately muffled her vocals against the rest of the players.

Nevertheless the story carried, and the strength of the stars overcomes less successful aspects of the show. “Viva La Mort” runs through June 9 at Other World Theater, 3914 N. Clark in Chicago.