If you love your musical theater packed with rafter-shaking singing, sexual tension, and deadly thrills, you are probably already a “Jeckie,” or ardent fan of the  musical, Jeckyll and Hyde. Its original concept album, featuring the score by multi-Grammy and Tony-nominated Frank Wildhorn and double Oscar and Grammy-winning Leslie Bricusse, which included the now well-known song “This is the Moment,”, built the fan base that leveraged the Broadway production.

After fifteen years without a Chicago production, Jeckyll and Hyde returned last year in a non-Equity presentation by Kokanday Productions at the off-Loop Chopin Theater, which completely sold out and extended.  It was such a huge popular success that Kokandy was able to negotiate a rare transfer of his Off Loop hit to a mainstream commercial venue, the Broadway Playhouse at Water Tower Place, operated by Broadway in Chicago.  This remount of that production, which opened Wednesday night to rapturous applause, is every bit as magical as it was at the more intimate Chopin Theate, although I confess to preferring having it so close to my face that it pinned my ears back initially. The same brilliant cast bring their thrilling performances to this remounting, under the direction of Kokandy Producing Artistic Director Derek Von Barham, choreographer Brenda Didier, and  musical director Nick Sula.

Chicago producer Scot Kokandy has made a career out of mounting eye-opening, non-Equity productions of both established and lesser known musicals in Chicago. They also have a fine production of Sunday in the Park with George running at the Chopin now, which is also on everybody’s hot list.

Simply put, this Jeckyll and Hyde is a triumph all around. While producers have been bemoaning that audiences aren’t going to the theater as much as they used to do, this production of Jeckyll and Hyde, as well as the sold out Kokandy production of Sunday in the Park with George now playing at the Chopin Theatre, prove that theatrical success is still within reach if you do things right.

In Robert Louis Stevenson’s story, Dr. Henry Jeckyll (David Moreland) is a doctor bent on separating the evil from the good within man.  He tries to get the medical community onboard with his experiments, and asks the hospital’s stuffy board of governors to allow him to experiment on a human subject.  When they refuse, he takes the potion himself, unleashing his evil, sadistic, and murderous mirror image, Henry Hyde, to terrible effect.

Amy Boyle Photography 2026

All this is unknown to Jeckyll’s devoted fiancée, Emma Carew (Emily McCormick).  She is passionately committed to stand by her love, and sings her heart out to prove it.

Amy Boyle Photography 2026

Equally in the dark is a young prostitute Jeckyll meets and befriends, Lucy Harris (Ava Lane Stovall). The impact of the show rests squarely on the shoulders of the performers in these three roles, and this production soars because these singing actors are such powerhouses of thrilling vocals, smart acting, and smoldering sexuality.

As Jeckyll, Mr. Moreland sings and acts with a sweet voice and touching lyricism.  His transition to the heartless Hyde is vocally and emotionally chilling.  He effects all this change in his voice and manner entirely without the aid of the special wig most Jeckylls wear to indicate the difference between the two characters.

As Emma, Ms. McCormick brings a fiery passion that matches Mr. Moreland toe to toe. No withering Victorian ingenue is she.

But there’s no denying that the standout performance in this production is Ava Lane Stovall as Lucy. Hers is the most unabashedly intimate and vulnerable presentation of this role I’ve ever seen. She owns her sexuality, powerfully and unashamedly, and displays it proudly under Mr. Van Barham’s no holds barred direction. Ms. Stovall is a  remarkably talented young actor-singer, whose voice  can swing from a subtle whisper  to a volcanic explosion in an instant. Yet it’s always about the acting moment for her. So, as with all this cast, the music is always paired with the most real and compelling acting choices, which makes for an unforgettable theatrical experience.

Although Jeckyll tries to keep his secret from everyone, ultimately he must confide in his friend and lawyer, John (Kevin Webb). Webb only performs a half week in this show, because the rest of the time he’s busy giving the best and most tortured performance I’ve ever seen as George in the concurrent production of Sunday in the Park with George. Here, he’s the stalwart friend and righteous voice of reason that he is meant to be.

Director Van Barham has made especially good use of the ensemble, who traditionally just appear as stuffy Londoners singing about Jeckyll. In this production they play multiple roles and blend with the main action, sometimes commenting on it, and sometimes extending it. In one particularly interesting sequence in Jeckyll’s lab, they stand behind him and mirror his actions, like endless reflections would do when two mirrors face one another. Together with some gender fluid casting, this ensemble delivers deliberate decadence like one might see in a production of Cabaret, and contributes greatly to the delicious enjoyment of this production.  That seemless movement is the triumph of Ms. Didier’s choreography.

One rarely speaks of non-Equity theater and Broadway caliber musicians in the same breath. But as always, Musical Director Nick Sula brings us an orchestra that is utterly professional and a show that is perfectly played.

Shout outs go as well to violence director Charlie Baker, and to the entire design team.

I have some issues with the staging of the end of the show, which was far too ambiguous about what happens to Jeckyll, and which flies in  the face of what I understand to be the intentions of the authors.  But I don’t want to give away too much on that point. So all I’ll say is that Mr. Von Barham’s staging left me very confused about what actually was happening to Jeckyll in the end. That can’t be a good thing for word of mouth.

That said, everyone in the city knows that this production is the event of the season, regardless, and  not to be missed.  So get your “Jeckie” on, and go see Jeckyll and Hyde, if you can get a ticket.

How did I not know this? That question has been following me around this week, especially after seeing Crow’s Theatre’s world-premiere stage adaptation of Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance. It is the question I cannot shake. We know that history is filled with political upheaval, authoritarian governments, poverty, discrimination, and people fighting simply to survive, but the human stories buried inside those enormous events can still somehow remain just out of our reach. Anosh Irani’s adaptation of Mistry’s celebrated novel puts four such lives directly in front of us, and over the course of three hours, those lives become impossible to dismiss, forget, or keep at arm’s length.

Set during India’s 1975 Emergency, when democratic freedoms were suspended and the machinery of the state reached deeply into everyday life, A Fine Balance brings together four strangers whose circumstances could hardly seem further apart. Dina is a grieving widow trying to maintain her independence and keep her small business alive. Ishvar and Omprakash are lower-caste tailors looking for work and dignity in a system that has repeatedly denied them both. Maneck is a student whose education has opened his mind to possibilities beyond the confines of class and separatism, even as the realities surrounding him begin closing in. They find themselves coming together, then living together in Dina’s cramped Bombay apartment, where a room meant to provide income becomes a place where friendship, humour, trauma, frustration, and hope are sewn together in tight, messy stitches.

Irani’s adaptation has an enormous task in front of it, taking a 700-page novel and finding a theatrical language that can hold its breadth without losing the intimacy of its characters. He succeeds by keeping the storytelling deeply engaged with the people at its centre. The script is intricate, engrossing, and epic in scope, yet it never feels as though the audience is being dragged through a history lesson. We are given enough of the political world to understand the forces pressing down on these characters through sound waves, background static, and the constant presence of events beyond Dina’s apartment, while the storytelling keeps returning us to the people trying to find a way through. The history matters because of what it does to these four lives, and the production never lets us lose sight of that connection.

Ben Yoganathan, Zorana Sadiq, and Anand Rajaram in A Fine Balance at Crow’s Theatre. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

Chris Abraham’s direction gives the production a remarkable sense of momentum. There is a lot of story to tell, and the three-hour runtime moves with a precision that keeps the many layers of Mistry’s world in motion. The production drops us into the crowded, restless atmosphere of Bombay almost immediately, with Thomas Ryder Payne’s intricate sound design becoming part of the storytelling itself. The city and its political tensions seem to seep into Dina’s apartment through the constant hubbub, passing trains, background static, and voices that remind us that the outside world is never very far away. The sound never overwhelms the people on stage. It makes the apartment feel increasingly surrounded by a country undergoing enormous change, giving their private lives a political atmosphere they cannot escape.

Michael Gianfrancesco’s set creates the physical pressure that the story needs. Dina’s apartment, with doorways rolling in and out like a train car, becomes a small, crowded world in which these four are forced into proximity and gradually discover the possibility of community. The space carries the sense of a life being held together with thread, while Ming Wong’s costumes superbly establish the social circumstances and individuality of the characters without drawing attention away from them. Imogen Wilson’s lighting gives the production room to breathe within that confinement, shifting the atmosphere as the characters move through moments of tenderness, tension, celebration, and devastation. Together, the design elements create a world that feels lived in, politically charged, and increasingly precarious, with the apartment serving as both shelter and witness.

At the centre of that world is Zorana Sadiq as Dina, and her performance gives the production one of its strongest emotional anchors. Dina is fiercely independent, prickly, complicated, and carries the grief of a life that has already demanded too much from her. We aren’t given an enormous backstory, but in a way, that keeps us centred on her broken soul rather than on all the difficult details that might explain her. Sadiq allows us to see the class assumptions and judgments that Dina carries while also giving us the growth that slowly emerges through her relationships with Ishvar, Omprakash, and Maneck. Her apartment becomes an extension of that struggle. She is trying to protect what remains of her life, and Sadiq makes every crack in that protection meaningful.

Anand Rajaram, Ben Yoganathan, and Sugith Varughese in A Fine Balance at Crow’s Theatre. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

Anand Rajaram and Ben Yoganathan bring tremendous warmth and humour to Ishvar and Omprakash, two tailors whose friendship becomes one of the production’s most affecting threads. Their circumstances are brutal, and their relationship complicated, but the performances never reduce them to their suffering or their anger. Rajaram and Yoganathan give these men distinct personalities, dignity, and an instinct for survival that makes their growing connection with Dina and Maneck feel genuine. There is an ease between them that allows laughter to exist alongside the harsher realities of the world around them, making their friendship feel like something they are actively building together from scraps of leftover fabric in circumstances that keep trying to pull these seams apart.

Siddharth Sharma’s Maneck brings another dimension to the group. He is a student with a mind reaching beyond the social structures that surround him, and Sharma captures the curiosity and uncertainty of someone trying to imagine a future while increasingly confronting the limits placed upon him. Sharma gives Maneck’s final moments a quiet intensity, and the staging itself is beautifully handled, but I found the emotional groundwork for his final decision a little too loosely constructed. The moment arrives abruptly, making it difficult for the full weight of what has happened to land with the force the production seems to be reaching for. Husein Madhavji and Sugith Varughese also help give the production its broader social and political dimension, moving through the world beyond the apartment and expanding the sense of a society being reshaped around these four lives.

The production never hides the brutality of the system these characters are living under. There is poverty, caste discrimination, political oppression, forced sterilization, degradation, and violence, and some of the scenes become almost unbearably painful because the people we have come to know are now caught directly inside those realities. Abraham does not allow those moments to become theatrical spectacle. The horror lands because we have spent time with the people experiencing it. We know their humour, their irritations, their hopes, and their attempts to build something resembling a home. The political machinery has faces and consequences because the production has made us care about the people standing in its path.

Ruth Madeley (center) in “Being Heumann“

And that brings me back to the question that has been following me through the week. How did I not know this? How can stories this extraordinary exist inside the history we think we understand and still remain outside our everyday awareness? A few days later, I was at a TIFF screening of “Being Heumann“, Siân Heder’s film about Judy Heumann and the disability rights movement, and I found myself asking the same question again.

Ruth Madeley gives a phenomenal, fiercely committed, and detailed performance as Heumann, a woman who knows how to turn determination into action. Mark Ruffalo, as Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare Joseph Califano, helps establish the political obstacle standing in her way, but Madeley’s Judy is the force that keeps the movement going. At one point, she is unceremoniously crowned Queen Judy because of the proclamations she can make for the group at a moment’s notice. Watching her, I kept thinking that General Judy might have been the better title. At one point, after Heumann takes action, Califano finally demands, “Who is this person?” The question lands because by then Judy Heumann has become impossible for the people in power to ignore. She understands that a cause needs people, organization, persistence, and a willingness to keep going when the answer from those in power is simply no. And Judy has no problem being the person who leads them into battle.

The story centres on the 1977 occupation of a federal building in San Francisco, when Heumann and a growing group of activists demanded meaningful regulations for Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. The details are astonishing because the obstacles are so concrete. At one point, when police attempt to arrest the protesters, the realization comes that even the jails are not accessible. “You are not the problem, the stairs are the problem,” becomes one of the film’s clearest expressions of the movement’s purpose. The physical barriers are manifestations of a much larger system that has told disabled people they can participate in the American dream while surrounding them with obstacles to actually living within it.

The U-Haul truck scene at the airport and the subsequent drive into Washington, D.C. struck me particularly hard. We have become accustomed to seeing ramps, elevators, sloped curbs, accessible vehicles, and other signs of accessibility in our daily lives. Those things did not simply appear. People fought for them. Heumann and the activists around her were willing to occupy buildings, put their health at risk, travel across the country, attract media attention, and place themselves directly in the path of government resistance because they understood that waiting politely for change could mean waiting forever. When Heumann wheels herself out in front of traffic, demanding to be seen and listened to, the force of that moment is impossible to miss.

That is where “Being Heumann” becomes something more than an inspirational historical drama. The story is inspirational, certainly, but the film itself understands that inspiration has a responsibility attached to it. Judy Heumann did not fight simply so people could admire her courage decades later. She fought because people were being denied the ability to live fully and participate equally. Heder’s film asks us to take that history into the present and consider what we do when we encounter the next obstacle, the next exclusion, the next injustice that somebody has decided is simply the way things are. And to act.

Andrew Scott in “Elsinore“

This is something I have been thinking about repeatedly during TIFF. “The Assassin(s)” opened my eyes to the attempted assassination of South Korean President Park Chung-hee and the journalists and police officers determined to uncover the conspiracy surrounding it and keep democracy alive. “Elsinore“, directed by Simon Stone and led by Andrew Scott, tells the story of Ian Charleson, the “Chariots of Fire” actor who pushed through AIDS to play Hamlet at London’s National Theatre. “Tenzing“, directed by Jennifer Peedom and starring Tom Hiddleston, Willem Dafoe, and Genden Phuntsok, brings the story of Himalayan Sherpa mountaineer Tenzing Norgay and his ascent of Everest with Edmund Hillary into the cinematic frame. Three very different stories, three very different pieces of history, yet each one has given me the same feeling: that there is something moving, powerful, and required in discovering these moments and what made the people behind them tick and take action.

I knew walking into A Fine Balance at Crow’s Theatre that I was about to encounter one of the most celebrated Canadian novels of the past fifty years in a new form. But I left thinking about Dina, Ishvar, Omprakash, and Maneck, four people I had spent three hours getting to know inside the cramped walls of an apartment in Bombay, and about the enormous historical forces that had shaped their lives. Somewhere inside that experience was the answer to the question that has been following me: how did I not know this? A Fine Balance and “Being Heumann” both took history out of the distance of headlines and dates and placed these people directly in front of me, people whose lives had been shaped by circumstances I knew about only in the broadest sense. They made me want to know more, to pay closer attention, and to recognize that sometimes the first thing we can do when confronted with stories like these is simply refuse to look away. And then do something to affect change, within ourselves and the world around us.

For more information and tickets, click here.

For more go to frontmezzjunkies.com

At a time when our nation is at war, our country is divided, and common decency is vanishing from our daily discourse, we need experiences which remind us of the potential for good  that we all have, and the compassion we can all share, if we only try. Such an experience is the heartwarming musical, “Come From Away,” now receiving an electrifying production in a northern suburb of Chicago at the Marriott Theater in the Marriott Lincolnshire Resort. This musical about a plane full of weary travelers caught in the wake of tragedy of September 11, 2001 is  the perfect escape from the troubles of the world today.

Come From Away chronicles five days in the lives of the passengers on an American Airlines flight after it was diverted, along with 37 other flights and 7000 people, to a tiny Canadian town in Newfoundland called Gander, doubling its population overnight.  Rather than fearing the strangers, or resenting the intrusion, the people of this quiet town opened their hearts and homes without reservation to their visitors until they would be permitted to leave again.

Authors of book, music and lyrics, Irene Sankoff and David Hein, have pulled off a real theatrical hat trick, turning a fundamentally non dramatic story where conflict dissolves in cooperation into a pulsing, funny, touching, tuneful two hours of pure happiness.

As much as I enjoyed this show on Broadway, I loved it even more up close and personal in the intimate arena setting of the Marriott Theater. Director Jessica Fisch and choreographer Katie Spelman keep the acting, singing and movement whirling seamlessly around the stage, never stopping to take a breath.

The same dozen or so actors play both the passengers and townspeople, changing costume and persona in a constant whirlwind of comedy, music and activity. A few props serve as moveable scenery, such as the pieces of luggage which double as the plane’s seating. The floor of the stage is also decorated with a map of the area, and some cleverly used, oversized “pins” to tell us where we are. Scott Penner’s sets, Jesse Klug’s lighting, costumes by Jessica Pabst and outstanding sound design by Michael Daley all flesh out the collective creative vision.

The Irish tinged score, played by a crackerjack band under the musical direction of Ryan T. Nelson and conductor Celia Villacres, throbs with Gaelic energy and adds emotional impact to what would seem otherwise mundane events. This show is a rare example of a musical that manages to succeed being driven by external events rather than the personal goals of a central character, and cooperation rather than conflict.

Chicago is blessed with a big base of talented performers, and Marriott Theater always manages to cast the best of them. Every member of this company is touching, funny, smart, and perfectly cast.  They include Heidi Kettenring as Diane, a woman from Texas, and Matt Crowle, a man from England, who form a relationship during the crisis. Lexie Dorsett is the stalwart captain who led a trailblazing female flight crew.  Sharriese Hamilton is Hannah, a woman whose firefighter son is caught in the tragedy back home. Devin DeSantis  and Jonathan Shaboo are a gay couple, both named Kevin, whose relationship is challenged by the stress. Shaboo is also quite touching when he plays Ali, the Egyptian citizen who is searched and profiled simply because he is Arabic. Their stories are balanced with  the Fargo-esque, homespun humor of the townspeople, including Madison Kauffman as Janice, a neophyte reporter, Alex Goodrich as Claude, the beleaguered mayor, Justin Albinder as Oz, the town constable among several other brilliantly depicted roles, Michael Earvin Martin, Denise Devlin, and Sara Bockel.

Although the catalyst for the action on 9/11 was catastrophic, the story of the visit to Gander itself isn’t really dramatic. After all, the worst that happens is…not much. With the exception of one personal loss, it’s all good. But seeing a story like this, where goodness of heart is all that really matters, and knowing that it is actually true, is a joyful experience you’ll be hard pressed to find elsewhere.

So, whether you are in Chicago now or looking to take a theatrical road trip, allow yourself to come from away, and catch this wonderful show before it leaves on October 18.

I hope George Winters doesn’t mind a bit of playfulness with his lyrics, but the temptation was too great.

A weekend trip to Covington, KY to see La Cage Aux Folles was highlighted by a surprise stop in Cincinnati to see Klea Blackhurst. What in the world is she doing there, you may ask?  How about rehearsing a revue of the songs of Stephen Schwartz entitled Corner of the Sky: The Songs of Stephen Schwartz, an early song from Pippin and Schwartz’s first big hit.

The perfect person to create such a piece is Scott Coulter, whose long-time friendship with Schwartz eased the sometimes difficult and lengthy approval process.  Coulter came up with the idea for the show and chose Schwartz’s first “I want” song as the title. As Coulter told me, all selections followed from that, and as will seen as it develops, the rest will be history. It’s running at Ensemble Theatre in Cincinnati until the 27^th of September. Why not take a quick weekend hop out there to see theatre history in the making?

Blackhurst will be returning to New York to star in the Styne/Comden & Green 1956 classic Bells Are Ringing at 54 Below, which is celebrating the 70^th anniversary of this quintessential post-World War 2 America musical. Known for being a Broadway belter in the tradition of Ethel Merman, she is a superb choice for this piece. Joining her are Penny Fuller, Robert Cucciolli, and Christine Pedi, with the popular Ethan Mathias in the chorus. Michael Lavine will be handling the musical direction, guaranteed to bring out all the exuberance of this jaunty score, which perfectly captures the zaniness that was the 1950s.  It will be live streamed as well, so mark your calendar for October 7^th!

John Mellencamp’s America is heading to the stage. Ogunquit Playhouse will present the world premiere of Small Town: A John Mellencamp Musical, a new musical built around 24 songs from Mellencamp’s unmistakably American catalog, running October 1 through November 1, 2026.

With a book by Obie Award-winning playwright Naomi Wallace and direction by Lisa Peterson, Small Town isn’t being positioned as simply another greatest-hits jukebox musical. Instead, Mellencamp’s songs become the vocabulary for a multigenerational story about a community in free-fall and the people trying to hold onto love, hope and one another when the promise of a better life begins slipping away.

At its center are Jack and Diane—yes, those Jack and Diane—played by Dillon Klena and Morgan Higgins. Klena, who appeared in the national tour of Jagged Little Pill, stars as Jack opposite Bad Cinderella‘s Higgins as Diane, two young lovers refusing to allow the circumstances surrounding them to extinguish whatever youthful fire they still possess.

There is some serious Broadway pedigree surrounding them. Ron Bohmer, whose Broadway credits include Les Misérables, plays Jack’s father Sean, while the always-wonderful Annie Golden takes on Lou. The Great Gatsby‘s Matt Saldívar plays Diane’s father Sergio, with Dale Soules as Jack’s Aunt Box and Luna Lauren Velez as Diane’s mother Maria.

The ensemble features Angela Chatelain Avila, Mayelah Barrera, Zach Cossman, Mollie Diaz, Louis Jannuzzi III, Noah LaPook, Victoria Lourdes, Kaitlyn O’Leary, Sam O’Neill, Alex Paez, Kendall Rivera, Lionna Romans, Deandre Sevon and Ariana Valdes.

The score reaches across Mellencamp’s career, including “Hurts So Good,” “Lonely Ol’ Night,” “Small Town” and, naturally, “Jack & Diane.” That last song alone gives Wallace an intriguing theatrical foundation. Mellencamp’s 1982 hit was never simply a catchy story about two teenagers. Beneath its irresistible chorus was something more melancholy: youth disappearing almost before we realize we had it and the uncomfortable knowledge that life doesn’t necessarily turn out the way we imagined.

That tension could make Small Town considerably more interesting than the standard jukebox formula. Mellencamp’s songs have always been populated by working people, restless young people, disappointed people and Americans attempting to reconcile the country they were promised with the one in which they actually live. Put those songs into the hands of a playwright like Wallace, and there is plenty of dramatic territory waiting underneath them.

Peterson, whose Broadway credits include Good Night, Oscar, directs, with choreography by Richard J. Hinds. Andy York serves as music supervisor, with Jason Hart as music director. The design team includes Klara Zieglerova on scenic design, Haydee Zelideth on costumes, Richard Latta on lighting, Kevin Heard on sound and Roxanne De Luna on wig, hair and makeup design.

Executive Artistic Director Bradford Kenney has made clear that Small Town is also part of Ogunquit Playhouse’s expanding commitment to developing new work. That makes this October engagement particularly worth watching. Ogunquit has increasingly become a place where ambitious commercial theatre can develop outside New York while still drawing heavily from Broadway’s creative and performing community.

Small Town arrives with something many new musicals spend years trying to acquire: an instantly recognizable musical identity. Mellencamp’s songs aren’t merely familiar; they belong to a particular portrait of America. The real test will be whether Wallace, Peterson and company can make us hear those songs differently by giving the people inside them lives beyond the three or four minutes we’ve known them.

If they can, that little pink house in Ogunquit may eventually find itself considerably closer to Broadway.

Small Town: A John Mellencamp Musical begins performances October 1 and runs through November 1 at Ogunquit Playhouse.

Tickets for Small Town at Ogunquit Playhouse