Squeamish

Squeamish opens on a lone woman, Sharon, sitting on her therapist’s couch after having abruptly stopped seeing him a few months ago. In crisis, she has found him at his home. She begins to explain where she has been these past few months, and take her doctor and the audience on a journey of loss and addiction and her, let’s call it ‘unorthodox’, way of dealing with them. I won’t say more so I do not spoil the show.

Cerqua Rivera Dance Theatre presents Spring 2025 Concert Series

CRDT debuted their Spring 2025 Concert Series, helmed by co-founder and artistic director Wilfredo Rivera, at the Ruth Page Center for the Arts this past weekend. The program included a collection of pieces from past years and a few premieres, featuring work from choreographers Wilfredo Rivera, Shannon Alvis and Michelle Manzanales and composers Joe Cerqua and James Sanders.

The night opened with Lágrimas Negras, which, despite the name (Black Tears) and the song’s history as a 1931 bolero-son by Miguel Matamoros, was an exuberant celebration of Salsa and other Caribbean rhythms. However, the tone of the night was really set a few pieces later, by Less choreographed by Shannon Alvis, composed by Joe Cerqua and danced by Brennen Renteria. A haunting and emotive piece, it was written in 2020 as a reaction to the experience of lockdown. Renteria danced beautifully, expressing the profound loneliness and fear felt by so many in that year. The next stand out was The Island, choreographed by Michell Manzanales, composed by James Sanders and featuring Lilia Ambler Castillo Gomez and Caitlin Clark. It tells the story of an island in Humboldt Park Lagoon that becomes the refuge of two young girls. The principal dancers infused their movements with a childlike energy that was unmistakable, and the piece also showcased what is so unique to CRDT: an earthy, tactile and intimate physicality.

The use of touch and intimacy was continued in Identity City, a piece from 2023, choreographed by Shannon Alvis, composed by Joe Cerqua and collaborated on by Lucas Greeff. Consisting of several short pieces, each one explored gender identity in a unique and lyrical way, while still adhering to the earthy, organic feel of the earlier pieces. Dancer Yui Nakatani had a particularly lovely solo, called Reflection.

The second half of the night included a Paul Simon cover by Joe Cerqua, and an excerpt from a larger piece by co-founder Wilfredo Rivera, American Catracho (2019). The dance was a semi-autobiographical exploration of Rivera’s own journey as a young immigrant. It was a deeply personal piece, reflected in both the continued use of physical intimacy of the dancers and the costumes, plain streetwear that somehow highlighted the emotional struggles of everyday people as they go about their lives, as if we could see the workings of their souls beneath the trappings of the everyday.

The CRDT style was a captivating departure from other dance companies. More theatrical than a modern or experimental company, but more abstract than theater or ballet. There was a live band, and at times, the musicians left the band box to participate in the dances, creating a deeper feeling of connection between the music and the dance. The dancers themselves move with an athleticism and power that they seem to be channeling up from the very earth itself. At moments in The Island I found myself imagining that the company had emerged from some magical wood, moving with an almost primal grace. Overall, the show was an exploration of identity that seemed to highlight the very physical reality of life as a human in a body, with an occasional, incongruous Paul Simon cover. The style is unique and captivating, and worth coming out to see.

Recommended

Reviewed by Alina C. Hevia

To learn more about Cerqua Rivera Dance Theatre, check out their website www.cerquarivera.org

Additional information about this and other area productions can be found by visiting www.theatreinchicago.com.

Teatro Vista and Filament Theatre present the World Premiere of: Memorabilia

Imagine a steampunk, late seventies era, Geppetto’s workshop: warm wood, various electric lights, a machine of piled tvs, buttons and levers. This is Salvador’s memory workshop. Instead of making toys, Salvador collects memories. He examines them, then pieces them together like puzzles of gossamer and string and sound. What he builds is a mournful celebration, or perhaps a cheerful dissection of memory and the loss of memory that characterizes any person’s life.

MEMORABILIA by Jean Claudio (Salvador) and director Raquel Torre, produced by Teatro Vista Productions and co-presented at Filament Theatre, is a whimsical, bilingual, hard-to-categorize dive into a unique world of sight and sound. In classic clowning fashion, there are very few words. Instead, Salvador’s memories are presented to the audience through dance, acrobatics, clowning, music, video and old-fashioned emoting. It is a reminder that the essential language of humanity is wordless.

Scenic Designer Lauren Nichols created the sort of dreamy workshop you’d want to get lost in for a little while, poking through boxes and pushing buttons. Lighting Designer Conchita Avitia and Sound Designer/Composer Satya Chávez designed the myriad sound and light cues with a sharpness that was precise as a knife but still felt organic. Every flicker of the lights, every sound from the speakers, immersed the audience further into Salvador’s exploration of his memories. For some of Salvador’s more powerful or painful memories, Projection Designer Liviu Pasare created video clips that shined through the windows of the workshop. Each clip had the rapid and fragmentary quality of a racing mind, trying to recall something you know is (was?) important, but can’t seem to grasp in the here and now. The story of Salvador is told in bits and pieces; there is no explanation as to how he lost his memories, started his workshop, or found himself at this moment in his life, and none is needed. This is a moment like any other: when who you were and who you are, are blending into who you will be. Despite these heady, philosophical qualities, the show is chock full of classic jokes like throwing things up that don’t come down, pratfalls, imaginary windstorms and creaky doors, silly jump scares and jaw dropping acrobatics. The absurd elements add to the surreal quality, and the clown elements keep things light and engaging.

There is a lot of audience participation as well, meaning that each night of this show will be unique, dependent in part on who comes to see it. I suspect you could watch several nights in a row and experience something different every time. Choreographer Michel Rodríguez Cintra created an exploration of childhood, falling in love and grief that Jean Claudio’s expressive physicality translates into what feels like a seamless dance. In reality, the show is structured loosely, with extended scenes, dances, clowning or acrobatic moments, interspersed with the audience participation.

Jean Claudio’s varied talents mean that there are often many elements at play in any given scene. In one of the only scenes with lines, Salvador walks through a memory of being a waiter in a cafe and waits on several audience members – taking their orders, chatting with them and serving them coffee. It felt like we were witnessing a light work-place comedy. In another, he uses one of his inventions to hear the songs playing in audience member’s heads, getting the biggest laughs of the night – and a totally different experience than the cafe had been. One magical element I was lucky to witness was a child in the audience whose laughter floated up at different times than the adults’ – usually followed by delighted chuckles from everyone who heard it. It was like a physical infusion of joy and wonder.

My favorite aspect of the show however, was one more specific to me: as a “third culture” kid – the child of an immigrant and the product of a community of bilingual, bicultural families, Memorabilia reflects a mind and a culture that I recognized. Kulikitaka by Toño Rosario gets as much play time as Hit Me Baby One More Time by Britney Spears. Reggaeton is followed by Lionel Richie. Salvador speaks Spanish and English, and the labels in his workshop are in both languages at random. A classic Mexican bolero, El Reloj, threads through the show – emphasizing the power of memory and music through generations, and reminding the audience that we are all a collection of memories, and not only our own: my Cuban grandmother’s favorite songs still play in the back of my mind, accompanied by my father’s love of Albita and my mother’s love of the Beach Boys – they all shaped who I am today, even if I don’t remember all the words.

Despite the silliness, the music and the dance, as the evening progresses, it becomes clear that Salvador is searching for specific memories of a specific person, and many of those memories are tinged blue with grief. While no explanation is given as to how he lost them, it is clear that he desperately wants to get them back. Despite the light touch, if you have ever experienced the intimate horror of watching a loved one become lost to a disease like Alzheimer’s or Dementia, this will strike a chord. But don’t be deterred, if anything, Memorabilia reminds us that we are a collection of all of our memories, forgotten or not, and that the experiences that shape us are with us always. It is hilarious, it is touching, it is memorable.

This is a perfect show to bring the whole family to. In fact, part of the joy is watching others experience it with you. Go see it.

Highly Recommended

Reviewed by Alina C. Hevia

Memorabilia can be seen at the Filament Theater, located at 4041 N Milwaukee Ave
Chicago, IL 60641 June 4 – 29, Wednesdays through Saturdays 7:30 p.m.; Sundays 2 and 6 p.m.  General Admission $45. Each performance has a number of Teatro for All tickets for $20 available on a first come, first served basis. At a higher price, the VIP package ($65) helps support Teatro Vista’s ticket accessibility programs and includes reserved seating and Teatro Vista memorabilia (see what we did there?) as a thank you for being a community champion. Note: Taxes and fees not included.

Group rates available; contact boxoffice@teatrovista.org for details or got to www.teatrovista.org for tickets.

Email boxoffice@teatrovista.org for tickets

Evanston Salt Costs Climbing is a Constant Truism.

Evanston Salt Costs Climbing was originally a writing assignment while playwright Will Arbery was in college: he had to write a short play based on a headline and challenged himself to find the most boring headline imaginable. The resultant mix of mundanity, absurdity, menace and humanity feels so topical it’s hard to believe it debuted in the relatively innocent days of 2018.

The play opens with long time co-workers and friends, Basil (understudy Christopher Hainsworth) and Peter (Jelani West), before a winter workday in 2014. They work for the city of Evanston as Salt Truck Drivers. They have spent enough time with each other to have a shorthand and easy camaraderie, which is interrupted by a cheery visit from their supervisor, Jane Maiworm, played by Ashley Neal. The back and forth feels lived in, the set up feels like an invitation to enjoy a peek into the lives of a specific community in the Midwest

The First Floor Theater company’s production, in the Bookspan at the Den Theatre on Milwaukee, makes great use of the long, narrow space. The salt warehouse, where Basil and Peter spend most of their time, is at one end, and Maiworm’s home is at the other. Lighting Designer Conchita Avitia did a lot of the heavy lifting in separating the space and creating movement, for example, when Basil and Peter are driving their truck. Sound Designer Matt Reich also deserves special mention: from the turning off and on of the truck, to the wind when the imaginary doors are opened, to the ominous tones that fill the room when Basil’s demons appear, the sound cues help fill out the small space and spare staging with detail and texture.

What begins as a slightly quirky, workspace comedy quickly begins to reveal a darker core. Jelani West’s Peter is a loving, supportive friend, plagued with “sadness” that he cannot shake, and often expresses thoughts of suicide. West whips through laughter and pain with an intensity that leaves the viewer unsettled and a little unsure as to danger to himself or others he might pose. Hainsworth’s Basil, meanwhile, writes creepy, strange short stories, but refuses to dive any deeper into the very real darkness Peter is running from.

At first, Maiworm is just a well-meaning, if slightly self-important low-level municipal employee. Soon, however, we discover she is living with her daughter, Jane Jr., played by Jacinda Ratcliffe, who struggles with paralyzing anxiety and suicidal ideation as well. In fact, it’s Jane Jr. who puts words to the feeling that has begun to creep up as the story unfolds: “Don’t you feel that there is something, underneath everything, that wants us to die?” Maiworm refuses to feel it, putting all of her energy into “administration,” fiercely believing in its ability to keep people safe, and build a community that works for everyone. Ashley Neal moves through the production with a desperate cheerfulness and awkward attempts at friendliness that often produce the biggest laughs, though occasionally come off as slightly bigger than necessary in what is ultimately an intimate look at the creeping, cold anxiety that most of us seem to be living with these days.

As the story continues, things begin to twist and turn in weirder and darker directions. As Maiworm struggles to find safer, more environmentally responsible ways to maintain Evanston’s winter roads, Basil reveals a darker and darker past, and Peter’s menacing depression is met with real-life tragedy. Meanwhile, Jane Jr. is frozen in time, year after year she is stuck in her mother’s house, paralyzed with choice and with the ever bleaker trajectory of climate change. Ratcliffe shines for a moment with a short dance number that is as powerful as it is another rather pointless attempt to get out of her anxiety-ridden hermitage.

The last third of the play goes completely off the rails when it comes to plot. Desperation and darkness are everywhere, the veneer of everyday, midwestern cheer thinning with every moment. Tragedy builds on tragedy, and the characters all long to connect with each other, but often have no idea how to do so with any real meaning. In the end, Arbery seems to be saying that it doesn’t really matter. They are there, they are trying, and as the world ends around us, as salt costs only climb, all we really have are each other – it’s the people that matter, even when they can’t understand each other.

Recommended

Reviewed by Alina C. Hevia

Presented at The Bookspan at The Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee Ave, Chicago. May 15 – June 14, 2025 Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 3 p.m. Tickets for  Evanston Salt Costs Climbing  can be purchased online at:  https://www.firstfloortheater.com and range from $10.00 – $35.00.

Additional information about this and other area productions can be found by visiting www.theatreinchicago.com.