"Chicago: The Teen Version" by ENCORE South Bay
July 28, 2023
A 16-year old in an ill-fitting blazer, hair slicked with equal parts gel and sweat. A 15-year old in a slip dress miming a shotgun with the ferocity of someone who’s never had to use it. A reporter attempting authority, despite being barely 5-feet tall. And the blazer’ed kid leaps into the spotlight, shouting, “ARE YOU READY??” like a baby-faced Vince McMahon. Then completely misses his singing cue, fully eating shit.
The time has come, the Warden said, to talk of many things. Of murder and espionage and black-painted chairs and all sorts of mature adult things. I’m at the ENCORE South Bay performance of Chicago: The Teen Version and the sweat is already gathering on my brow, though nerves aren’t only to blame. “Make sure to scan the QR code to get your digital programs when you buy your cooling fans,” ENCORE South Bay’s Executive Producer Sharona Krinsky emphasizes the last part with urgency, less a merch-peddle and more a plea. “It feels okay now, but in 10 minutes, you’re gonna wish you had one.” Tonight’s performance takes place in the historic El Segundo Performing Arts Center, of El Segundo High School, of the year 1927, of the time before the A/C era— as if these kids needed another chair obstacle to mount.
I’m seated front and center, eager to be right in the action, though now realizing I’m squarely in the “Splash Zone” of supportive tears from the performer’s parents. “I just hope they don’t get… too wild,” a mother says as a slight prayer to her daughter. “I’m just so proud of her,” the daughter gently pushes back. I’m too preoccupied sussing out if murderous teens is a downgrade or upgrade to the show’s crime-riddled plot— and if it’s too late to move my seat by the open door.
It’s kind of a miracle any of us are even here. When Chicago first debuted on Broadway in 1976, it was a hit with over 900 performances, but then the show closed and the world moved on and Bob Fosse directed All That Jazz, and you just don’t make an Oscar-winning movie about your life when you intend to keep on living it. It’s not that Chicago’s legacy wasn’t strong enough to endure, it was just overshadowed by the incoming titans: Les Miserablés, Cats, Phantom of the Opera, even the ill-advised Chess wowed audiences with its innovative on-stage screens. A British Invasion was here and dominated our drama houses with their big budgets and ticket prices climbing around a Benjamin. Audiences were eager to see their money on the stage. Gone were the understated Chorus Lines and their draw of stripped-down vulnerability. Out were the simple black tights and their headlining choreography. Faded was Chicago to the epoch of Broadway’s recent past.
Until 20 years later, when a holy resurrection came.
The Encores! series in New York was never intended to be a music hall, more of a fancy mausoleum. It was started in 1994 by NY City Center Executive Director Judith Daykin, who just wanted a simple way to stir New Yorkers’ easily divided attention— and what better way to do that with a staged revival of a 1950’s musical about Republican Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia? That play of course was Fiorello! by Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick (of Fiddler fame) and the opening night was hosted by none other than freshly-minted Mayor Rudy Giuliani, in case you needed another reason to feel weird about this. Judith’s lark paid off. The series was a hit. In the years since its debut, City Center has transformed into just as much an institution as their Broadway neighbors, launching 19 cast recordings, multiple main-stage transfers (including the excellent Into the Woods revival now touring the U.S.) and a couple of spin-offs. Like the Voices! series focusing on infrequently-produced plays (hosted by Alec Baldwin— jfc, how many more questionable men can I possibly mention in this?), and my personal favorite, the Encores! Off-Center! series highlighting Off-Broadway shows that never got their proper flowers.
The average consumer needs to see a brand or product at least 7 times before they buy, before a pattern is formed, before an identity is solidified. Encores! had 8 solid sold-out runs of FDR-era shows before Chicago was pitched and everyone lost their goddamn minds. “It’s not old enough,” “not rare enough,” the beats of “All That Jazz” were still scoring NY theater commercials for chrisakes. Even worse, director Walter Bobbie had the audacity to have ambition. All previous Encore! shows were blithely low-budget: music stands instead of set pieces; tuxes instead of costumes; scripts stripped down bare to their essentials— even Irving Berlin got a re-write. But when Bobbie insisted his Chicago had to be done with fishnets instead of the typical fine evening-wear and a cast who could be off-book— you’d just about thought he suggested a musical adaptation of Rudy about to get a blowie in Borat 21. So, concessions were made. A team effort formed. Ann Reinking came back to revive her original role as Roxie Hart, both an olive branch to skeptical audiences and scared authorities that be. Everyone else was newly assembled, naively forming history. It was just 2 days, who would even see it? It was just 2 days, who even cared?
That 1996 revival of Chicago has just become the longest running Broadway musical of all time.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, you are about to see a story of greed, corruption, violence, exploitation, adultery, and treachery… all those things we hold near and dear to our hearts.”
Our Master of Ceremonies so thrills in saying these words, she just about trips over them as she grips her sweaty stage mic. Or perhaps that was her braces interfering. Tonight’s show marks the first time ENCORE has put on a performance of their teen summer program since the start of the pandemic, and they’re luxuriating in the celebration. “We even have a real budget…” Our director proudly shows off the set of sturdy, wooden balconies flanked by practical grand staircases, perfect for bursting into ballads. But the crown jewel has to be the sparkling, bright “CHICAGO” letters hanging from above, hand-crafted from cardboard and string lights and just as quickly soaring up to the rafters moments after being lit. The audience of parents “Ahhs!” in delight as if they’ve just witnessed Mary Poppins in the flesh, though I suspect this was more to distract from the letters not being spaced out right (but I personally find the DIY discrepancies all the more charming).
The Director is “so proud of these young people”, though I can’t and may never know their actual names. For when Sharona Krinsky was humbly requesting we scan the digital program from the QR code, my adult brain simply refused. Perhaps it was the school atmosphere, her Principal-like authority, or just my own, “You’re not my real Dad!” toxic energy that radiates quietly in me like a moronic mother dough, making everything eventually weird and watching What We Do in the Shadows nearly impossible, no matter how hard the male comedians in my life try. That’s all to say, shit may get wild. Word paintings will form. And this review may very well resemble your Aunt asking you, “Who is that actor that I like?” and you, eager to help, start sweating through a one-person charades game of all the Chris’es and Hemsworth’es and Arquettes’es’es until she finally says, “Oh! That guy from the GEICO commercial!” and you just give up, because this only expands the search broader (and amps the likelihood of “that guy” being someone you took Sketch 101 with higher).
Teens are horny, that much we can all agree. They need somewhere to put it, and I’m grateful they have Fosse. I wrote in the first Rent review that every generation has their “sexy show,” but left out the part where they so rarely get the opportunity to let it all hang out. Back in my day, we could only hope for a Shakespeare, if only to don a corset and suddenly display our developing breasts. It wasn’t until we begged our beleaguered Middle School theater teacher for something — anything — that featured musicals created after 1980 that she finally acquiesced and directed a “Musical Revue” that starred one lucky 8th grader singing, “Take Me or Leave Me” (though the lyrics were changed from “who’s in your bed” to “who’s in your dreams”, somehow creepier and much much worse). So, when I originally read the words, “the teen version” when choosing to cover this show, my mind swirled with family-friendly focus. Would Roxie not kill but kiss her lover to death? Hug him if not too risqué? Would “Cell Block Tango” become a dream ballet? Not a confession but an opportunity for fantasy-fueled pas de bourree? Would guns get swapped for hot dogs or whatever the hell Steven Spielberg did to the cops chasing after E.T. in that ill-advised DVD re-release? The answer, like all things, was far more simpler than I could’ve imagined.
The nineties weren’t just a banner time for Chicago, it was also the same time Music Theater International thought to bridge the gap between the classics and the kids. Founded in the 1950’s by composer Frank Loesser and orchestrator Don Walker, MTI is now one of the leading theatrical licensing agencies in the world. Though its main catalog mostly caters to community stages, the flashiest jewel in its crown belongs to their innovative “Jr” and “Teen Series”, which aims to add education to their entertainment. It’s not about sanitizing, it’s more about slimming down run-times. The “Jrs” are 30- and 60-minute abridged versions of popular shows suitable for the wandering attention spans of toddlers and tweens. The “Teen” version is more loyal, but with far less dialogue. Their catalog includes the likes of tonight’s Chicago, Shrek Jr., Schoolhouse Rock, Live!, the ever-baffling My Son Pinocchio Jr. (and if you hear of a Xanadu: for Teens production happening in the LA/OC area and you don’t let this bitch know, we are not and never have been real friends).
Encores! had it right with distilling musicals down to their main course, especially with Chicago. We don’t require an extra moment with Matron ‘Mama’ Morton to understand the intensity in which she sings, “When You’re Good to Mama,” or the pain fueling Velma Kelly’s vengeance more than what’s covered in, “I Can’t Do it Alone”. I can tell our teen performers are just ready to bypass the appetizers and rip into the razzle-dazzle, to show off their sequins— both figurative and literal. To take the stage and sing their hearts out like the Good Lord Olivia Rodrigo intended. To declare to their parents they’re a far cry from that little orphan Annie they pushed onto the stage exactly 2 years ago— because this orphan now has an exposed bra.
After our Master of Ceremonies starts the show, the pre-recorded Overture launches our ensemble, cluttering and pivoting and swaying as a single sex-signaling organism. Their choreography is not synced, but far from sloppy. Their passion is clear, because they just learned this all in 3 short weeks. Their costumes range from slumber party to suggestive, with every single actor donning some form of silk shorts (and my favorite unnamed ensemble member opting for a lace top matched with masculine sock garters, all praise to this future 'Most Fabulous Intern in the Office’). Finally, the group parts and out comes our Velma, singing in a deep lower register that hides her nerves just as much as it commands authority. Though, there is one initial blip— a chunk of “All That Jazz” lyrics completely lost from memory, but instead of panicking she simply pushes through and says, “Blah Blah Blah” until she jumps back in like nothing fucking happened (because nothing fucking did). There’s so much we can learn from kids who refuse to take this life so painstakingly seriously.
It’s actually a delight to see 15-year olds act like robbers, reporters, and wardens. Like an Al Capone wing of a Children’s Museum just opened by the hollowed-out city bus and toddler-sized grocery store. That isn’t to say our cast is presenting as “cute,” just that their innocence in cosplaying as criminals adds to the charm. Like when Roxie finally arrives at the prison (played by a teen ingenue with Zellwegger-esque curls she either paid top dollar for or woke up at 4am to create), and over-acts her pushback on being placed in hand-cuffs. Or when an ensemble member sing-shouts, “HE HAD IT COMING” with the fury of a woman scorned recently by a teen named Kevin, threatening to burst from the chorus line and key his Honda in the parking lot. Then there’s the aforementioned 16-year old Billy, making this stage his own, exuding strong “Do. you know who my Dad is?” pretense, absolutely loving being the guy the 2 stars are clawing over and so obviously stealing this costume blazer the moment the lights go out and the poor 28-year old Director isn’t looking.
It’s “We Both Reached for the Gun” that rouses the most applause, where our Roxie perfectly mimes marionette as Billy sits pretty, but it’s our Amos tonight that steals the show. Part of the joy of witnessing child and teen theater are the incongruities— the teens playing Grandmas, the peers playing parents, but most often— the lovers being completely outsized. Our Amos is a clear foot shorter than our Roxie, his gangly frame barely filling his gray suit. His braces only adding to his sorry state, “Mister Cellophane” a song so cruelly containing so many hard S’s.
Few may recall the original ‘70s Chicago Amos, as the ‘90s production led to a ‘90s sensation led to a 2000’s movie starring John C. Reilly launching a new wave to his career of earnestly singing jazz to 50-something women at Shakespeare fundraisers while wearing a steampunk-esque top hat. When the Encore! production cast tiny, tender Joel Grey in this role, he insisted it was a mistake. Amos was meant to be a working-class fridge of a man whose dimness only matched his dangerous grip. What power could Grey possibly inject? And he was so confident he wouldn’t achieve this that days before showtime he made the Hail Mary pass of painting his face white, just like his famous Emcee character from Cabaret. “Maybe I’ll play it as a clown.” Or possibly a tribute. Something that gives the people what they want, but leaves well enough room for a wink. Thankfully, Director Walter Bobbie immediately shut that shit down and knew exactly what he was doing when he cast Grey— the actor just needed to trust. Grey went out and received a standing ovation (one of the night’s many). Sometimes the best performances are the ones that make no logical sense.
Studies show that students who perform theater have improved cognitive function, heightened self-esteem, stronger study skills and consistently perform higher on standardized tests. That was the main pull to MTI’s “Teen” series, but it’s what the performers do with it that’s solidified its true legacy. Though I can’t say with full certainty my life would’ve changed if I performed with my peers in matching negligés, I know for certain it would’ve been formative to at least have the freedom to try. Hopefully next time, they get that chance in a place with central air-conditioning.
ENCORE South Bay’s performance of Chicago: The Teen Version has wrapped for the summer, but their upcoming productions of Carrie: The Musical and Matilda are coming to the stage in November and January, respectively. For more info and tickets click here.
Stay tuned next week, when I run from the Windy City to a pineapple under the sea— where a performance of The Spongebob Musical is so tiny, the first row comes with a warning of being accidentally squished by a roving Squidward.
Please don’t write this.