Ever incapable of staying put, Jessie, just back from Beijing, hopped a plane to Chicago for the Memorial Day weekend. Her visit took in architecture, art, plants, and pizza, but she came back raving about her trip to the future:
The Neo-Futurarium is a theater unlike any I have ever seen—and with a director for a mother, I've seen plenty. The theater's signature show, Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, has run weekend nights since 1988 (11:30 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. Sundays). The experience begins on the street, where you are handed a colored plastic token by an usher at the door. Token in hand, you climb the stairs and pass through the Hall of Presidents before entering the mural-clad waiting room. Unless you arrive very early (and you should, there are no reservations and the show frequently sells out), you will find it crammed predominantly—but not exclusively—with young hipsters.
Before allowing entrance to their theater's "air-conditioned loveliness," cast members begin the first of two explanations, this one about payment. The ticket price varies, depending on each individual audience member's roll of a six-sided die. Your roll is added to the number seven, resulting in a range of prices from $8 to $13, payable only in cash.
Once inside, you are given a humorous name tag (mine said Fermi Lab) and the evening's menu. The menu consists of a list of numbered titles, each designating one of the 30 plays the cast will perform that evening, in the space of 60 minutes. Titles range from the descriptive (Dance of the White Boy) to the baffling (…with his crazy noises about great white bears). Also on the menu, the following announcement: "When we sell out, we order out… from Konak's." Not quite all the seats were filled at the performance we attended, but pizza really does get delivered to the stage when the show sells out.
Once everyone is seated, the next spiel begins. The cast explains that while the plays to be performed have been predetermined, their order has not. Sheets of paper labeled from one to 30 hang from a clothesline across the stage. After each play has finished, the audience orders the next one by calling out numbers as soon as they hear the word 'curtain.' Cast members then leap up, pull down the first number they heard called out, and announce the play by title. This continues until all 30 plays have been performed, or until the 60-minute timer runs out, whichever comes first.
All the paraphernalia is a blast, but Too Much Light is Chicago's longest-running show because it's good theater. The plays, all by Neo-Futurists, are mostly funny, sometimes sad, often political, and occasionally tasteless, but always well-written and performed with honesty and heart. The unpredictable order and ever changing roster of plays keeps the performances fresh. To tide myself over until my next Windy City jaunt, I plan to try out the two-year-old New York iteration sometime soon.
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