Theatre people frequently criticize new plays for being too much like television or film. Short scenes, frequent blackouts, and small “r” realism are all signs of a writer who has let her television writing bleed over into her stage writing.

Fortunately, Jess Weaver, the author of The Artist Needs a Wife, now receiving its world premiere at The Side Project , does not have this problem. Those who have followed Weaver’s development have become familiar with his off-beat writing style, odd sense of humor and general disregard for traditional realism.

In many ways, The Artist Needs a Wife is the most accessible of Weaver’s plays I’ve seen (although I have certainly not seen all of his work). Mott and Freud have lived together for decades, perhaps centuries. Freud’s a painter who has apparently been painting the same subject for a very long time: a woman they simply refer to as Whore. However, Freud feels he needs new inspiration and so he steals the change Mott has been collecting for years to buy a mail-order bride who is ostensibly from Poland. The displacement of Whore, Mott’s obsession with Katja and the mounting tension between the two roommates all threaten to destroy the fragile peace that exists between them.

Weaver’s strange sense of humor manifests itself throughout, and director Carolyn Klein has assembled a cast capable of bringing that humor to the fore. Strawdog ensemble members John Ferrick as Freud and Christopher Hainsworth as Mott have an easy rapport as the roommates. While neither feels as old as the Methuselah-like ages attributed to their characters (despite the age makeup), their energy, particularly Ferrick’s slightly manic Freud, serves the play better than an attempt at great age would. Hainsworth unfolds the reserved Mott throughout the piece, offering a nice counterpoint. Allison Cain’s broadly desperate Whore arrives at her top level quickly and perhaps too early, but her force-of-nature attack on Freud to prevent him from casting her off for a new muse certainly drives the action. Finally Ann Sonneville’s Katja—the new muse and mail-order bride—brings some great expression-acting to the mix.

If anything, the play goes on too long, particularly prior to the appearance of Katja, who is, after all, the agent of change. Few playwrights have the skill set to write status quo well for long periods of time (Beckett is one and Weaver seems to have been influenced by him somewhat), and while Weaver keeps things spinning for as long as he can, eventually we need something to change. Once Katja arrives, things pick up. William Anderson uses Side Project’s uber-intimate space well to create the tiny apartment Freud and Mott share. Only Greg Poljacik’s fights don’t live up to the rest of the production: clumsy and not particularly well staged or executed.

On the whole, The Artist Needs a Wife offers a fun, off-kilter production that, if a bit on the long side, is certainly nothing you’ll see elsewhere in town. It will be fun to watch Weaver’s continued development as a writer. He has a unique aesthetic and hopefully we’ll continue to see his work at Side Project and elsewhere in Chicago in the future.

The Artist Needs a Wife, side project

Chris Jones, Tribune—“For sure, his language is rich and distinctive. And he’s written a play with the nerve to ask what Chicago-style art really means. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone do quite that here before. As such, it’s well worth a look. Yet even though the play goes on and on and on (it should lose at least 20 minutes), you’re never clear what the parameters are in this future-world, or even why we are there. Mott, the equally-hairy fourth character in this quartet and an ex-DJ, is less integrated into the whole. And the piece could do to be less pretentious in places, and be more human. And funnier.”

Kerry Reid, Reader—“Jesse Weaver’s sometimes hilarious, sometimes repugnant symphony of squalor hits the same notes over and over again, but a quartet of gutsy actors under Carolyn Klein’s direction tears into the histrionics with gusto…The dialogue is often sharp, but the message—artists steal and destroy in the name of creation—gets pulverized by the end.”

Kris Vire, Time Out—“An earlier version of Weaver’s comedy was a hit at the Dublin Fringe Festival in 2006; the formerly Chicago-based playwright (now living in Dublin himself) has expanded it for the side project. We’d love to see what that briefer Irish edition looked like, because for all that appeals in Klein’s new production, it’s hampered by a bloated script… While Hainsworth does a terrific job of finding a character between the lines, Weaver doesn’t properly establish the rules of this world. Why did Mott quit DJing? Why has he stuck around for years of abuse from emotional vampire Freud? Klein’s actors work hard, but Weaver’s script has them running lap after lap without ever really getting anywhere.”

Monica Westin, New City—“Jesse Weaver’s play reels between sincere, moving conversations about aging and regret and hysterical screaming matches and cheesy choreographed fight scenes that make the show occasionally seem like a farce. The problem seems to lie in the writing—is it impossible for playwrights to address art-making without some immoderation?—and not in the acting, which is remarkable. Allison Caine in particular transcends her role as “Whore,” the rejected and vengeful first muse, digging deep for a performance of powerlessness that’s far more mature than the story.”

I Am My Own Wife, Bohemian Theatre Ensemble

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“Completely captivating, wholly believable and shrewdly but subtly inscrutable, [Peter] Robel (co-directed by Stephen M. Genovese and Peter Marston Sullivan), gives a bravura performance. Dressed in Charlotte’s now iconic black dress and pearls, he captures her faux delicacy and brilliant ‘insinuendo.’ And he ideally balances her ever-questionable mix of passion (particularly for her enduring home museum, a treasury of 19th century ‘Grunderzeit’ furnishings, and old phonograph recordings), with her calculated restraint (the strict order of her priorities was ‘museum, furniture, men’), all of which made her so elusive and enigmatic.”

Albert Williams, Reader—“To dramatize this dilemma, both characters (as well as several others) are portrayed by one actor. In the Bohemian Theatre Ensemble production directed by Stephen M. Genovese and Peter Marston Sullivan, it’s an assured and precise Peter Robel, cleverly clad by costume designer Emma Weber in a sexually ambiguous ensemble. John Zuiker’s ingenious set recreates the Grunderzeit Museum as a dreamlike space decorated with doll-house furniture—at once Charlotte’s sanctuary and her prison.”

Benno Nelson, Time Out—“It’s a story of astounding personal courage and survival, and for that reason alone, it’s remarkable how bland both the play and the production feel. Rather than harrowing, thrilling or inspiring, I Am My Own Wife is mostly pleasant and engaging, structured like a guided tour through a small private museum. Bolstered by John Zuiker’s miraculous set, full of secrets and style, the show is brisk and handsome, but the main problem is that we never exactly meet von Mahlsdorf face-to-face. Robel affably jumps between characterizations but is at his warmest and most persuasive as Wright, whose fascination with von Mahlsdorf and desire to capture her on paper form the play’s backbone.”

Lisa Buscani, New City—“The 30-character show makes big demands on solo performer Peter Robel; the piece puts his physical and vocal flexibility through the theatrical wringer. While it might be nice to see more complex levels of emotional response and physical gesture, Robel’s technique stays consistent and the approach to his characters is always respectful. John Zuiker’s set is a bit too sterile for a woman who is captivated by the warm flaws of antiquity, but it makes the most of minimal space. It has many cupboards, perfect for a woman with many things to hide.”

Brian Kirst, Free Press—“With this fine production, directors Stephen M. Genovese and Peter Marston Sullivan work with precise detail and elegant simplicity. They help solo actor Doug Wright build a solid trunk on which to create almost 40 characters. Wright uses emphatic tone and gesture to delineate his multiple characters and ultimately creates a Charlotte that, while not as bat-ass eccentric as described within the text, is still sly, secretive and at the service of her found objects from the past. Charlotte, ultimately, remains a brilliant enigma here-something that would surely thrill her immensely.”

Private Lives, Chicago Shakespeare Theater

Chris Jones, Tribune—“[Director Gary] Griffin has staged his production in the round—on a kind of giant lazy Susan (created by bold designer Neil Patel) that very slowly rotates under a huge ball of a moon. That throws off some of the usual pictures and creates some transitory awkwardness, but it’s a very clever revisionist idea, not least because it reinforces the intimate, circular journey of most love affairs, and forces the production away from the comforts of the familiar Coward trajectory. The show does not sacrifice the elegance or sophistication that we associate with Coward, nor does it undermine his distinctive humor.”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“They are, to put it mildly, a tremendously self-absorbed and restless quartet of lovers. Yet despite their advanced degrees in narcissism, it is easy to make excuses for the characters in Noel Coward’s madly smart romantic farce, "Private Lives." After all, they are so insanely witty, so grandly neurotic, so flamboyantly and comically self-dramatizing. They also dress exceedingly well, earning extra points for stylishness. And as realized by the sublimely gifted cast now onstage at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, they are, indeed, all but irresistible in their utter ridiculousness.”

Zac Thompson, Reader—“Director Gary Griffin emphasizes the play’s knock-down, drag-out quality by seating the audience on all sides of the stage, as at a prize fight, and putting the players on a well-appointed, slowly revolving turntable that has them constantly circling each other. The twirling is slightly nauseating, but the acting is solid. As Elyot and Amanda, Robert Sella and Tracy Michelle Arnold find the right mix of sophistication and jagged edges.”

John Beer, Time Out—“Griffin’s production features a quartet of finely tuned, masterfully paced performances. Cross and Campbell are stolidly reasonable as the unhappily abandoned new loves, setting the conventional tone against which Arnold’s Amanda and Sella’s Elyot take flight. The latter pair gracefully inhabits the playwright’s neurotic ideal, oscillating between dreamy lassitude and frenetic bickering. The second act’s mini cabaret of Coward songs makes Amanda and Elyot’s Parisian flat momentarily a very British, very ‘30s utopia. One jarring note is the innovation of Griffin’s staging in the round; the players’ slow rotation on Neil Patel’s moving stage, like dishes on a Chinatown lazy Susan, distracts from Coward’s precisely formed repartee.”

Dennis Polkow, New City—“The best compliment that can be given to Gary Griffin’s direction and to the quartet he has assembled to take these roles is how much empathy is felt by the audience for every one of them. Borrowing a cue from David Cromer’s Our Town, Griffin has the audience configured in a circular manner that has the audience be as much a part of the show as the actors…We are helped along by the elegant setting, a huge, pale moon suspended above all, plenty of champagne and even Coward sing-alongs, with intimacy that is enhanced by a slight rotation of the circular stage to keep all of the action so close you not only feel it, you can practically touch it.”

Mary Shen Barnidge, Windy City—“Certainly there’s no denying the craftsmanship evident in shows directed by Gary Griffin, an artist who could get a riveting performance out of two lawn flamingos, provided they were costumed properly. Under his guidance, the transactional dynamics in this uncut version of the text—three acts, two intermissions—never give way to slapstick exaggeration, rendering its sleek artifice always reflective of the intimacy that Coward specified for his comedy. The title is, after all, Private Lives.”

The Year of Magical Thinking, Court Theatre

Chris Jones, Tribune—“[Mary Beth] Fisher, whose performance is so technically perfect as to be dazzling, does not seek out the softer side of [Joan] Didion for the Midwestern ear. [Director Charles] Newell theatricalizes with organic dignity, filling out the memories with just enough of the performed. He doesn’t rush anything to the gut. Maybe they should have inched just a little further to the heart. I think so. But I also think The Year of Magical Thinking is intended to be a little difficult, a little removed. This production is true to the brilliant woman doing the thinking and, yes, the feeling.”

Hedy Weiss, Sun-Times—“All this is by way of saying that Court Theatre ’s Chicago premiere of The Year of Magical Thinking is nothing short of hypnotic. And Mary Beth Fisher, under the meticulous direction of Charles Newell, gives one of those piercingly brilliant solo performances that is so gorgeously nuanced and finely chiseled that it instantly engraves itself on your memory. She is sublime…[S]he gives us a woman seemingly in control while also suggesting the deeper reality—that she is hanging by a thread. It is, on every level, an uncanny performance."

Justin Hayford, Reader—“Didion chronicles every twitch of her precious grief as though it were headline news--and, tellingly, gives almost no sense of what Dunne or Quintana were like. Didion’s self-absorption permeates the theatrical adaptation, a problem the usually engrossing Mary Beth Fisher can’t overcome. Under Charles Newell’s overly brisk direction, Fisher is uncharacteristically chilly and remote. A thousand slick light cues make the story even less human.”

John Beer, Time Out—“The play shares the book’s rigorous, transcendent intensity. It also shares its author’s unmistakable diction and rhythms. So when Fisher’s performance hews to a conversational tone, it’s dazzling: suspenseful, precise, suffused with terribly won wisdom. But whenever it leaves those precincts—when a bit of stage choreography intends to suggest the author’s confusion or when Fisher strains noticeably for effect—the distance between writer and performer, the fiction of the performance itself, seems a violation, like spicing up a funeral mass with dramatic gestures."

Monica Westin, New City—“Technically, it’s a dazzling success. Mary Beth Fisher’s performance in the one-woman show is as agile, intellectually driven and illuminating as Joan Didion’s writing in the memoir, from which the play was adapted by Didion herself. And as adaptations go, it’s an astute one…but it’s ultimately hard to recommend the show after having read the book. The triumph of the memoir is Didion’s clinical, academic, incisive approach to her experience; this play manages to convey a good deal of this philosophy, and does an especially effective job of hitting the notes of dark comedy that could have gotten lost, but it veers too often into confrontation and hysteria.”

Jonathan Abarbanel, Windy City—“As Didion, Mary Beth Fisher perfectly balances gravitas against human accessibility, and intellectual vigor against a refusal to patronize. Charles Newell has directed with quiet authority, isolating Fisher on a small and sparely elegant raised platform in a sea of darkness (John Culbert's scenery, Jennifer Tipton's lighting).”

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Quote of the Fortnight:

“Yes, it helps for audience acceptance—especially in Chicago—that Angela looks remarkably like a young Oprah Winfrey.”—Dennis Polkow reviewing the touring production of Dreamgirls in New City.