Playwright: Jay Torrence. At: The Ruffians at Theater Wit, 1229 W. Belmont Ave. Tickets: 773-975-8150; $36-50. Runs through: Jan. 4
There are holiday productions—some perennial favorites, others offbeat alternatives—to see each December. Burning Bluebeard looks as if it's emerging as Chicago's newest cult offering of the holiday season.
Jay Torrence's play, which debuted in 2011 at the Neo-Futurarium and returned thanks to The Ruffians last winter, is back yet again for three weeks with much of its original cast in tow, and it's easy to see why.
Inspired by Chicago's tragic Iroquois Theatre fire on December 30, 1903, Burning Bluebeard imagines several members of the cast and crew rising from the ashes to remount their show, a Christmas pantomime of the grotesque fairy tale "Bluebeard," in hopes of moving beyond the horrible second act fire that killed 600 of the show's patrons. The show includes everything from clowning and acrobatics to stirring personal monologues recounting the fire.
Balancing cheeky wit and playful irreverence with an astounding devotion to history, Burning Bluebeard folds a poetic commemoration of a tragic event into a complete theatrical experience. By juxtaposing the humorous escapism of a Christmas pantomime with the grim reality of the fire, the show achieves the rare combination of both of the theater's finest traditions: pure entertainment/spectacle and deep, poignant human relevance.
The show's dual nature is also an actor's dream. Each member of the cast of clowns ( by training ) has a shining moment or three of uproarious comedy and a quiet spotlight to breathe life into someone who was actually part of the fateful production. It's clear how much original cast members Anthony Courser, Molly Plunk, Leah Urzendowski and Ryan Walters ( along with Torrence himself ) cherish this big-dreaming little production and their responsibility to preserve a story more than 110 years old. And that's not to leave out new cast member Pam Chermansky, who does much of the comedic show stealing as the bombastic, sharp-tongued Fancy Clown.
The ensemble's infectious spirit and energy effectively yanks the fourth wall out from in front of the audience, creating a shared experience between the audience and the actors, and not just in terms of some audience participation. This is a communal history lesson, and as the audience of a show about a show in which the audience died in a fire, there's an uncomfortable yet necessary metaphysical aspect to the experience.
Bringing a sense of control to the amorphous and unpredictable tone of the production are the technical aspects, chiefly the lighting. The very element that started the Iroquois Theatre fire—lighting—plays a key role in taking the show through its many personas, using everything from full house lights for total audience inclusion to a solitary glowing mason jar channeling energy toward one individual. Along with several sequence-controlled individual hanging lights, Torrence, director Halena Kays and lighting designer Maggie Fullilove-Nugent are able to create the dose of magic that really makes Burning Bluebeard something special, especially as a holiday show.
Pulling together acrobatics, poetry, Icelandic techno and explanations of theatre exit routes—among other things—into one cohesive show seems an impossible task. And maybe to that point, not every component of Burning Bluebeard is smooth, engaging or flawless. But this particular gem of an untold story makes it all work. Add a completely bought-in cast and a vibrant array of scene presentations, and Burning Bluebeard wonderfully seizes its opportunity.
