Heather Currie directs John Hildreth’s laugh-a-minute adaptation Cat’s Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut’s satire concerning the U.S. nuclear program and all-around ignorant hubris. The story is advised in flashback by a author, presumably named Jonah, or perhaps John (Tony Bozzuto), making an attempt to write down a guide concerning the finish of the world whereas maybe residing by means of stated occasion. Doggedly researching just lately deceased scientist Felix Hoenikker (Patrick Blashill), the daddy of the atomic bomb, and his very odd and troubled youngsters, Jonah finally ends up on the banana republic island of San Lorenzo, having one seemingly non sequitur encounter after one other with a succession of people, yet one more inconceivable than the subsequent. The narrative is punctuated by nonsense language sing-alongs and frenetic Russian roulette-like character swaps by the solid.
Cat’s Cradle
Through 10/22: Fri 7:3 PM, Sat 2:30 and seven:30 PM, Sun 2:30 PM; Lifeline Theatre, 6912 N. Glenwood, 773-761-4477, lifelinetheatre.com, $45 ($35 seniors, $20 army, $15 college students)
I learn Vonnegut’s guide many years in the past, so I don’t recall all its plot factors. But Hildreth captures the author’s cheerful nihilism exactly. Lindsay Mummert’s set—which resembles a cross between a midcentury rec room and a hamster playpen—provides this group of lunatics an atmosphere that completely displays the a number of delusions below which they function.
The magic of this present is that it makes what’s horrible hilarious and compelling. No matter how zany or outlandish their antics, the stakes couldn’t be greater, and deep inside, each one in all these grifters and charlatans is aware of it. There’s nothing inherently humorous or essentially transferring about nuclear annihilation or imperialism. In the unsuitable palms this sort of materials can simply come off as tone-deaf (see Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer). But Hildreth and his nimble solid have managed the uncommon feat of fashioning a critical comedy. No matter how foolish they get, the mushroom cloud unfurls simply behind their backs, lending gravity to each pratfall.
