Review: LOKI – THE END OF THE WORLD TOUR at Lifeline Theatre
Lifeline's wildly imaginative new musical rocks.
It’s the end of the world as we know it. You’ll feel fine.
Lifeline Theatre’s LOKI – THE END OF THE WORLD TOUR opens with an irresistible premise: Ragnarök staged as an eternal arena-rock concert. In this wildly imaginative new musical, the apocalypse is not a singular cataclysmic event, but a doomed performance repeated endlessly by a house band known as The Norns who are condemned to replay the destruction of the Norse gods night after night. It is audacious, strange, deeply heartfelt, and exactly the kind of ambitious storytelling that reminds audiences why Chicago theatre remains one of the most exciting and vibrant theater communities in the country.
After all, if the Christian apocalypse can unfold in the tiny city of Megiddo, why shouldn’t the Norse end times erupt beneath arena lights and guitar solos?
The show opens with The Norns warming up the audience through “Fire and Ice,” a driving opening number that cleverly establishes the opposing forces destined to collide during Ragnarök: the gods aligned with fire and the giants and monsters associated with ice. The production quickly segues into the exhilarating “You’re My God,” an infectious introduction to the show’s sprawling mythology that efficiently acquaints even newcomers with the major deities and players.
Loki (Jack Chylinski) arrives in Valhalla seeking a better life for himself and his three children. Loki isn’t exactly welcomed. As he says, he’s “half-giant, half you don’t want to know” and Valhalla isn’t the most excepting of those who are different. A powerful witch named Gullveig was once speared and burned alive three times for the sole crime of not being beautiful before she fled.
Loki’s children are also very different than the denizens of Valhalla. You have a human Hel (Grace Reidenauer), a wolf Fenris (Anthony Kayer) and Middy (aka the Midgard serpent, played by Avery Thompson).
Loki realizes quickly he needs to get in good with the big man himself, so he and Odin (a soulful Scott Danielson) make a blood brother pact, but this can only protect Loki and his kids for so long. Thanks to a prophecy that came to him, Odin is convinced Loki’s children will bring about the ultimate end of Valhalla.
As Loki, Chylinski is electrifying. Terms like “breakout role” and “star-making turn” are often overused, but they feel entirely appropriate here. Chylinski delivers a layered, magnetic performance that captures Loki’s volatility without ever reducing the character to comical caricature. Charming one moment, vindictive the next, Chylinski continually reveals the vulnerability and loneliness beneath Loki’s chaos. It is a remarkably nuanced performance that anchors the production emotionally even amid its loudest and most surreal moments.
Christina Calvit’s book, developed alongside director Heather Currie, draws heavily from authentic Norse mythology rather than its Marvel-inspired interpretations. Fortunately, this production is far more interested in the mythological source material than comic book spectacle, and the end result is richer for it. The Norse gods here are not superheroes but deeply flawed beings trapped within rigid systems of violence, patriarchy, and power. Valhalla, after all, is a paradise reserved almost exclusively for warriors who die in battle — a culture built around glorified aggression and male conquest. Like the truthteller Loki, the book shines a light on who society chooses to celebrate, who they exile, and who ultimately gets erased from history altogether. The fact that this leads to Valhalla’s ultimate destruction is a cautionary tale that is, unfortunately, a bit too topical right now.
One of the production’s most telling scenes is when Freya (a fierce and fiery Janelle Sanabria), demands to lead The Vikings into battle as Ragnarök approaches, only to be reminded by Odin that history is written by men — and that even if she victorious in the battle, she would most likely be omitted from the official record. It is a strikingly contemporary observation embedded seamlessly within ancient mythology. Calvit’s script excels when it draws those parallels between old stories and present anxieties, continuing Lifeline Theatre’s longstanding tradition of reimagining literary and mythological classics through a modern lens. There is still so much to be learned from the old tales, if we are only brave enough to listen.
George Howe’s score (he wrote both music and lyrics) is equally ambitious. Drawing inspiration from rock music spanning the 1970s through the 1990s, the musical cleverly assigns each deity a recognizable musical identity. Odin (Danielson) evokes the gravelly swagger of Joe Cocker, while Freya (Sanabria) channels the raw emotionality of Janis Joplin. Baldur (Peter Gertas) possesses the gentle introspection of Cat Stevens, and Sigyn (India Renteria) carries the aching sincerity of Karen Carpenter. Thor (Keenan Odenkirk) embodies the teen heartthrob aspects of David Cassidey or Lief Garrett (though, I will add Odenkirk is refreshingly more comedic than just being the traditional eye candy that Thor is most often portrayed). Loki himself — ever the shapeshifter — emerges as a thrilling blend of Mick Jagger, Ziggy Stardust-era David Bowie, and Elton John at his most theatrical.
Back: Avery Thompson (Middy), Grace Reidenauer (Hel)
and Anthony Kayer (Fenris)
The rebellious energy of Loki’s children naturally follows suit. Hel, Fenris, and Middy channel the spirit of punk and grunge acts like The Sex Pistols, Nirvana, and Green Day. The trio of misfits harmonize beautifully when needed and rev up the angry energy for the more raw aspects of the score. There are some amazing performances by Reidenauer, Kayer and Thompson with each showing great vocal control as they shift between punk and grunge anger to melodious pop. The restless, anarchic energy sharply contrasts with the old guard. Howe’s musical vocabulary is expansive yet cohesive, and the score consistently succeeds in deepening characterization while sustaining the production’s concert atmosphere.
Ludwig Feuerbach is quoted as saying “man created God in his own image” and it certainly applies to the show’s band. Lead guitarist Norn 1 (Kelen Smith) is wise and all-knowing like Odin. Keyboardist Norn 2 (Kara Olander) is fierce like Freya and sardonic like Loki. Drummer Norn 3 (Alek Boggio) is kind and empathetic like Baldur. It’s a clever and effective device to blend the perfunctory aspect of a musical needing a band, but also making the band part of the storytelling.
The supporting ensemble is equally committed, with particularly strong vocal harmonies that give the production a true rock-opera scale. Heather Currie’s direction keeps the sprawling mythology surprisingly coherent while embracing the show’s inherent weirdness (and there is a lot of Viking mythology that modern audiences will find strange; Loki gives birth to a horse at one point and this is taken right from original sources). The show stays true to the lore, rather than sanding it down into something safer or more commercial.
The production even finds room for smaller delights. Assistant stage manager El O’Brien is an unexpectedly memorable presence throughout the evening, repeatedly spinning and tossing Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, on and off stage with impeccable timing whenever Thor hurls it. Her reactions and physicality become part of the performance itself, and the decision to include her in the curtain call feels entirely earned. It is a charming reminder that theatre is a collaborative art form built as much on backstage precision as on-center-stage performances.
Lindsay Mummert’s scenic design evokes the faded grandeur of a once-elegant and elaborate performance spaces in slow decay, with chipped paint, crumbling plaster, and a fractured proscenium arch dominating the space. The aesthetic recalls the abandoned movie palaces that were later reclaimed as punk rock venues in Detroit’s underground music scene of my youth — spaces where past glamour collided with raw, rebellious energy. It is an evocative visual choice that perfectly complements the production’s blend of mythic spectacle and rock-and-roll grit.
G. Max Maxin IV’s lighting design fully embraces the aesthetics of a rock arena concert, bathing the stage in bold, kinetic energy while maintaining a level of lighting precision and clarity often absent from live rock performances. The design effectively balances spectacle with storytelling, ensuring the theatricality of the production never gets lost beneath the concert atmosphere.
Emily Hayman’s sound design is nothing short of remarkable. Despite the score’s intentionally aggressive volume and occasional bursts of punk-inspired chaos, every lyric remains crisp and intelligible throughout the performance. Achieving that level of vocal clarity in a rock musical of this scale is no small feat, and Hayman’s work consistently allows both the music and the storytelling to land with equal impact.
Of course, everything builds toward the inevitable final battle promised in the title. Yet the show’s greatest surprise is not its spectacle but its emotional conclusion. The closing number, “At the End of the World,” is easily one of the best original songs I’ve heard this season (and this season has included several pre-Broadway tryouts here). Long after the final note, its central idea lingers: when the world ends, status, wealth, and power become meaningless. What matters instead is who remains beside you — who reaches for your hand when everything else disappears. Here’s hoping Lifeline and the company record the tune. It’s that good.
It is a profoundly moving ending to a production that constantly balances absurdity with sincerity. LOKI – THE END OF THE WORLD TOUR is loud, weird, funny, emotionally resonant, and unapologetically ambitious. In lesser hands, its fusion of Norse mythology and arena rock might collapse under the weight of its own concept. At Lifeline Theatre, it becomes something exhilarating.
LOKI – THE END OF THE WORLD TOUR runs through June 14 at Lifeline Theatre, 6912 N. Glenwood. Tickets: info@lifelinetheatre.com or (773) 761-4477.
Photos by Josh Bernaski, courtesy of Lifeline Theatre
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