Review: CHICAGO Brings All That Jazz at Split Stage

Half a century ago, when Bob Fosse's Chicago premiered on Broadway, not even its instantly memorable Kander and Ebb score was enough to save it. It was too cynical, too dark and too blunt in its Brecht-meets-burlesque satiric mode. Twenty years later, how times had changed: the stripped-back and sexed-up Encores production resonated with the post-Watergate, post-OJ cultural cynicism. From its monochrome and lingerie set designs to its now-famous use of chair dancing, the Encores Chicago became an instant hit and has remained a Broadway fixture (indeed, almost a visual shorthand for Broadway itself) ever since, to the point where it's now the licensing version instead of the more elaborate and vaudevillian original. 

The stark minimalism and "live in concert" staging style of the Encores Chicago makes it a perfect match for Split Stage, a company which prides itself on not only legit musicals but also concert-style stagings that foreground the music. (Perhaps you've seen their annual Rocky Horror Show, on a bare stage with hand mics and an onstage, very interactive, band.) Here, that semi-presentational instinct, as staged by director/choreographer Laura Wurzell, is in harmony with the legendary Broadway revival; this is no copy-paste restaging of the Fosse/Reinking production, though the most traditional inclusions are still there as they should be. Music director Christopher McAllister (who also served as set designer and the show's emcee/radio voice) commands a mighty fourteen-piece band playing the show's full Broadway orchestration, which fills the intimate Lamp Theatre even more than it fills the Ambassador Theatre on Broadway.

Velma Kelly (Lindsay Fitzpatrick), a washed-up vaudevillian turned murderer, is waiting for her trial in the Cook County jail, only to find her trial date and press coverage stolen by the younger, brasher killer Roxie Hart (Riley Tate). As the two compete for attention, favors and fame via their shared defense attorney, hotshot Billy Flynn (Evan Krug), a landmark ruling in another case suddenly leaves them worried that there may be fates worse than bad reviews. Throw in a sweet, simpleminded husband (Daniel LaMond), an amoral and predatory prison warden (Cait Crowley) and an opera-singing drag queen (David Carver), and you've got a recipe for the greatest clown-show on earth: the American legal system.

Lindsay Fitzpatrick's Velma is perfectly droll and dry, with an eye roll, a shrug or a grimace for everything. When she's not dancing up a storm, she's a great physical comedian as well; I've never heard an audience laugh as hard at the mock-dignified "Class" as they did in this production. Fitzpatrick is well paired with Riley Tate, a bubblier live wire in the role of Roxie. Already a strong singer and dancer, Tate tears into the big "Roxie monologue" with vigor, until the audience is eating out of the palm of her hand. When the two dueling divas finally dance together, it's electric, even though Fosse's famous "Hot Honey Rag" dance finale is intentionally a little hokey and anticlimactic. (There are some things you just can't pull off onstage, but the film version's final image of the two divas grabbing machine guns and shooting up the stage really does put a capper on it.) I'd love to see (*looks up current celebrity stunt casting*) the villain from Secret Lives of Mormon Wives pull off what these two firecrackers are doing, and make it look half as easy or half as good.

Evan Krug's Billy oozes charm and charisma, as he plays every single person he encounters like a fiddle. Billy, oddly enough, is the one aspect of the show's satire that hasn't aged well: he's manipulative in the way we expect a lawyer to be manipulative, but by his repeat outspoken refusal to receive sexual favors or use sexual coersion, he feels almost... wholesome, at least in comparison to so many political or justice figures today. On the other hand, Cait Crowley leans hard into Matron Mama Morton's sleaze, perpetually fondling and ogling her charges every chance she gets. Both Krug and Crowley have big voices and excellent comic timing, making them perfect foils both for each other and for the dueling divas. Daniel LaMond makes unassuming, unspectacular Amos a big teddy bear of a man, earning "awws" from the audience and big applause on his every hangdog exit. (While the original production typically had an offstage comedic gunshot on Amos's last exit, the huge audience applause he receives here inadvertantly makes you feel like things will turn out well for the lovable loser.) Last, but certainly not least, David Carver's Mary Sunshine is a comic treat. With all pretense of being a real female impersonator's role mostly thrown out the window in this century, Carver is free to play the role as a more overtly vaudevillian drag act, singing in a nimble comic falsetto one moment, then dropping into his natural baritone for low notes when you least expect it. Through it all, these performers are perpetually supported by a quintet of merry murderesses, acting, singing, dancing and performing a variety of vaudevillian stunts. Hats off to Harley Muir, Savannah Rae Bruno, Nicoel Rae Jones, Maddie Kocur, and Chicago veteran Alyssa Bruno Walls, who specializes in the demanding seriocomic role of Katalin Hunyak across multiple productions. Director/choreographer Wurzell has stuffed the show with everything from circus marches to slapstick to a burlesque fan dance, and the merry murderesses are game for every stylistic twist and turn.

Maybe the satire of the show is no longer as shocking as it used to be, the cynicism a bit less cutting. But if there's something to be learned here, it's not moral, it's technical: music makes a difference. So many people walked out of this opening night production raving about the orchestra, and for good reason. It's been a while since such an intimate theatre had such a big, beautiful noise... and all that jazz.