Shattered Globe finds shadings for 'Blue Leaves'
BY HEDY WEISS Chicago Sun-Times Theater Critic • January 2006

The first hit of the new year has just arrived: It's Shattered Globe Theatre's revival of "The House of Blue Leaves," the tragicomic farce that first put John Guare ("Six Degrees of Separation") on the map in 1970, and later catapulted actor John Mahoney into the big time when he starred in a remount at Lincoln Center.

Though I've seen this play many times, I never quite understood what all the fuss was about, even if its setting -- a Queens apartment on Oct. 4, 1965, the day Pope Paul VI visited New York City and made his plea for peace as the Vietnam War raged -- could hardly have been closer to my childhood home and history. But director Ann Filmer's blistering production -- cast to perfection, and bruising in its roller-coaster ride from the comically manic to the sadistically pitch black -- is revelatory. And the play's themes, whether the obsession with celebrity culture or the terrorist impulse, seem chillingly timely.

Other essential themes are evergreen: the terrible ache of lives that never live up to their owners' best fantasies (especially if they are show-biz-ridden), the homicidal resentment that can accompany disappointment, the ache of marriages that cannot live yet also cannot die, the tension between true love and opportunism. A program note states Guare wrote the play as a kind of twisted wedding of Strindberg's "Dance of Death" and Feydeau's "A Flea in Her Ear." It might just as easily be described as "A Streetcar Named Desire" meets "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," with a bit of Brechtian cabaret for spice.

At the center of the chaos is Artie Shaughnessy (Doug McDade), a Central Park zookeeper whose Queens apartment qualifies as a first-class human zoo. Artie tends animals by day, but he is a Tin Pan Alley-style songwriter dreaming of Hollywood fame by night -- a man who enters amateur contests in local bars and ends up paying for his own beers. His deeply depressed wife, Bananas (Linda Reiter), has attempted suicide at least once, while his hyperactive, upwardly mobile neighbor and girlfriend Bunny Flingus (Eileen Niccolai) is hellbent on engineering his success. She also dangles the promise of home cooking in front of him whenever he seems to waver on the divorce front.

When the pope's motorcade -- from the airport in Queens to the United Nations in Manhattan --passes through Artie's neighborhood, it unleashes a kind of mass hysteria in all the characters, including Shaughnessy's psychotic, AWOL son Ronnie (Kevin Viol) and a ferocious gaggle of nuns (Ann James, Gwynn Valentine Fulcher and the altogether adorable Heather Graff). It also drives Artie to make a much-delayed phone call to his childhood pal, the hugely successful movie director Billy Einhorn (Peter DeFaria), a man whose latest amour, the ill-fated star Corrinna Stroller (Jacquelyn Flaherty, platinum perfection), is the embodiment of the fickleness of fate.

McDade, who in recent seasons has turned in superb performances in both "Virginia Woolf" and "Judgment at Nuremberg," is the best Shaughnessy I've ever seen -- not only playing the piano full out, but also nailing every aspect of his character's sweet dreaminess and horrific meltdown.

Reiter, whether barking, begging or beaming, is nothing short of sensational as a woman for whom love might just be the best yet ever-elusive medicine. And Niccolai, dressed in a pink Pucci print, is hilarious as a tornado that just keeps picking up speed.

Kevin Hagen's jam-packed set (expertly lit by Shelley Strasser Holland and spotlight man Josh Bonifas), Cybele Moon's vintage costumes and Joshua Horvath's thunderous sound combine to heighten the story. And one final word of praise for Filmer: This is the first time the play's poetic title really hit home.

When: Through March 5
Where: Shattered Globe Theatre at Victory Gardens Studio, 2257 N. Lincoln
Tickets: $26-$35
Call: (773) 871-3000