'Antigone's' incest, feuds go hillbilly
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Company members mentioned in this article: Rick Sims, Heidi Stillman, Andy White, Christine Mary Dunford, Philip R Smith, Tracy Walsh, Larry DiStasi, Daniel Ostling and Mara Blumenfeld by Hedy Weiss No doubt about it: Chicago is fast becoming a center for the development of new musicals, and it has little to do with those multimillion-dollar Broadway spectacles that plant themselves in the Loop. Northwestern University has just begun its American Music Theatre Project to foster new work. Later this week Strawdog Theatre will stage the world premiere of "True Ballad of Fall's Blessings," an original Americana-style musical created by Hank Boland and the company. And Saturday night, Lookingglass Theatre, in an inspired collaboration with the Old Town School of Music, drew back a perfectly tattered, mud-stained muslin curtain on "Hillbilly Antigone." A newly minted musical with an irresistible score and a goofily over-the-top book, it transplants the ill-fated House of Atreus myth so central to the tragic drama of the ancient Greeks into the blood-stained (and somewhat Beverly-Hillbillyized) soil of the Appalachian Mountains . Lookingglass (which recently staged "The Shaggs"), has long been hellbent on making the form of music theater its own. And with Ricks Sims' galvanic, deeply rooted country score paired with a National Lampoon-like comic- book script by him and his wife, Heidi Stillman -- who also serves as the ingenious director of this elaborate, wackily creative show -- the company may just have their biggest hit to date. I would have preferred a slightly more serious book. But still, all the essential fixins' are here: the incest-ridden families trapped in a seemingly endless blood feud; the arrogant, hypocritical patriarch; the lustful mother with secrets; the sense of cruel destiny meted out by an angry God. There also is the ever-watchful chorus. And in "Hillbilly Antigone" it is the star, taking the form of a trio comprised of Sims, Andrew White and Christine Mary Dunford, whose voices blend in glorious harmonies, and who accompany themselves on guitar, mandolin, dulcimer, washboard and more. These three provide droll commentary both from this side of the grave and (in the second act, after rising from their linked coffins) in the great hereafter. It's pure American Gothic, though it comes by way of Sophocles' "Antigone," with help from the Montagues and the Capulets and the Hatfields and the McCoys, too. It's also all wink-wink, nod-nod as every "poor white trash" stereotype is exploited -- from blackened teeth and too much inbreeding, to frontier "justice," the fear of progress and the far greater fear of God. At the center of it all are the star-crossed lovers: Antigone (Mattie Hawkinson, an actress who transforms herself completely in every show), a fiercely independent girl with a fondness for rifles and squirrels, and her lover, Harmon (Matt Ziegler, who possesses a truly angelic voice), the handsome boy from the taboo family whose father, Creon (Philip R. Smith), is the county's hellfire preacher and corrupt judge. Smith carries on the hallowed tradition of the evil-obsessed preacher in bravura style, with speech patterns (and more) that just happen to resemble those of our president. Antigone -- the daughter of the beautiful, powerful and once lustful Mama Virginia (the regal Tracy Walsh) -- also has a fierce devotion to her violent, half-mad brother, Amos (a truly fired-up Chris Mathews), who works for the much-hated railroad (embodied by a snake built of tiny toy railroad cars, and unquestionably the best stage prop of the year). After Amos is hanged, she buries him despite Creon's decree forbidding this. In the true spirit of Greek tragedies, there is a blind seer -- here in the form of Grandma (canny work by Cynthia Baker). And in the politically incorrect American pop culture tradition, there are a pair of mentally deficient brothers (Lawrence E. Di Stasi and Keith Kupferer). Di Stasi also is a hoot dancing like a demented wind-up toy, with Kupferer deftly doubling as the demagogue who runs against Creon for judge, and eventually sends his rival to sit on that new-fangled throne, the electric chair. The terrific actors put a perfect rootsy twang into the singing of Sims' marvelous, richly authentic score -- a score whose 12 songs both pay homage to, and gently poke fun at the "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" soundtrack. And Stillman's fleet, often brilliantly comic direction endows the cartoonish script with great wit and energy. Her staging makes the most of Dan Ostling's wildly imaginative, clapboard and corrugated set (superbly lit by Chris Binder, and framed by a kind of camera lens window). Mara Blumenfeld's costumes are full of delicious touches, as is every element of this rollicking production. And how can you not love a show with songs like "A Horse Called Disaster" and "The Ballad of a Snake Bitten Bride"? |
