Troubled souls make for mesmerizing mediation on anger’s destructive power
This is the second play in seven months I’ve seen devoted to an exploration of Wrath in a larger cycle devoted to the Seven Deadly Sins. Like the story of Apollo and Marsyas, artists of all kinds seem compelled to revisit sinners more than saints in a meta-commentary on the nature of art itself as requiring tragedy for greatness. This is one-seventh of the young playwright Leslye Headland’s own contribution to stories on that theme. In Redtwist’s Reverb, the past echoes into the present and back again in a feedback loop from which two star-crossed lovers seemingly cannot escape. Though it lacks some clarity and gets a bit heavy handed (literally at times), Reverb is rescued by two extraordinary performances that turn wrathful wraiths into beings of a more pathetic persuasion.
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There’s something about watching Downton Abbey that is even more interesting than watching Mad Men. Seeing Don Draper seek out personal pleasure at all costs is fairly relatable to us 21st centurians, but the people of early 20th century England are fascinating in that they seem to value self-sacrifice and honor above their own desires. What a difference a few generations has made. For a good read about it, try Chicago’s very own Laura Kipnis’ 
True to their mission of bringing works “that challenge us to explore a life of meaning and purpose,” 
As recently as 2010, the famous 
It’s hard to find a story more Chicago—even the musical named Chicago, debuting 35 years after Pal Joey, had its work cut out for it competing for that title. There’s a rather cynical undercurrent to this tale that must have been bracing for the original 1940 audiences. The eponymous Joey is a misanthrope, misogynist, borderline sociopath banking on his youthful good looks and charm to ensure a rise in the social ranks. It’s hard to tell if he’s an anti-hero or a charming jerk (maybe both). Either way, 
In the classical version of this story, the Danaides at the center of Mee’s Big Love are punished for their misdeeds (that is, killing their husbands on their wedding night) with the task of filling a tub from which the water eternally empties. This has entered popular parlance as a symbol of trying to complete a futile task, but after watching Big Love, I can think of another interpretation: that of the vessel of the self forever emptying its contents into another as an act of eternal love. If that sounds twee, don’t worry, Big Love has some equally tart things to say about love’s demands, caprices, and the roles both men and women feel compelled to play or reject. Only loosely following the plot of The Suppliants by Aeschylus, this modern interpretation takes the fantastical and makes it a distorted mirror on humanity in the way the only the best fables can.
As Director 
In a culture so often criticized for oversharing, it can be easy to forget that not so long ago we kept anything considered ‘unseemly’ deeply, destructively, internalized. For many immigrants coming to this country, it might come as a shock that people can discuss depression with little chance of stigma. Heck, some people seem practically eager to share their experiences with it in the big cities as a near rite of passage. Growing up in a small Midwest town, I remember well how mental health issues were discussed in hushed tones as derisive gossip, seen as a failure of a person’s ability to pull themselves up than a legitimate disorder in need of treatment and certainly never confronted. Erasing the Distance—purveyors of a brand of theatre devoted to shedding light on mental health issues—narrate six real life stories of people from a spectrum of cultural backgrounds. Having reviewed them several months ago in Will You Stand Up (which explored violence and mental health), I found something lacking in this particular adaptation. While I have no doubt that 
Well color me surprised.
Like viewing one of those 