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Regional Reviews: Chicago Joan Crawford Goes to Hell Also see Christine's review of Sunday in the Park with George
In any case, it's easier just to show my heterosexual friends how we laugh at the absurd cruelty of authority in Joan Crawford Goes to Hell, a poised (very poised) and polished (somewhat polished) revival of David Cerda's campy 1999 schadenfreude, where the diva is split into five roles (three for the "wire hanger" scene). And all the while, director Cheryl Snodgrass grabs onto the movie's dreamy, stylish texture and never lets go at the group's home-base, the Clutch Theatre. So you could call it "The Five Faces of Joan" in a roughly (very roughly) hour-and-45 minute comedic diffraction, where playwright Cerda himself appears on stage as the Joan who wakes up in the underworld, damned to watch the beautiful, ghastly film directed by Frank Perry and starring Faye Dunaway. And there's another condemnatory counterpoint woven through, as Mr. Cerda (in various smart dresses and a flaming red wig) recites passages from Joan's proto-influencer book "My Way Of Life," in which the film icon gradually reveals more than what's good for her. But the damned don't cry, and neither does this show's grown-up Christina, played with a declamatory drawl by the transfixing TJ O'Brien. She narrates and occasionally plays opposite the live-action Joans: a group that features the excellent Dunaway lookalike Gretchen Greear. Ms. Greear masters many of Mommie Dearest's most iconic moments, lithe and leonine in a red wavy wig and big black headband, as smirking and worldly as Carol Burnett in the darkest manner possible. At the matinee I attended, Nicholas Ian (aka Joan #3, towering in a Straight-Jacket-style black wig) earned the "purple heart" on stage, first throwing a drink in handsome Michael Rashid's face and then accidentally slipping on the same "vodka" in the next scene, sliding down a little stair unit upon his big exit. He seemed frozen there, in the liminal, for five long seconds, a moment as briefly horrifying and violent as the source material itself. But the audience cheered him on, and Mr. Ian was unremittingly great for the rest of the show. His Joan is wildly taunting and hilarious, though even an injured actor is likely to be full of adrenaline while he's up there strutting and fretting. Haley Gillman is unexpectedly touching as the "Child Christina" in blonde curls and a Shirley Temple-style dress, innocent and eager even when she's detonating dark comedy in Christina's familiar scenes, especially when the madcap Ms. Greear seizes upon her, and Joan's own nightmares become a fantasia of celebrity psychopathy–as in a wrestling match that substitutes for the film's pool race, or the bathroom cleaning scene. The insanely devoted costume designer for the show is Ben Argenta Kress, and the flawless video design and projections are by DJ Douglass. Upon further reflection, the whole story may exist in the mind of every modern gay man. You get your heart broken once or twice as a "baby gay," and decide to kill off your vulnerable, unsophisticated self. The proud grown gay man, perhaps, is Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest, and his innocent, easily wounded self is Christina. Joan, the sophisticate, attempts the murder of Christina over and over, dominating throughout. But in the end, after the madness of one's glorious, romantic years, the innocent self survives, with or without a patrimony. There are two video-projected Joans, the glamorous and insightful Jennifer Engstrom and the impossibly regal Coco Sho-Nell. They too join in the whole strange Nicholas Nickleby group effort, creating one giant mecha-Crawford. It's a case where the legend outstrips pop-culture–both feeding into it, and devouring it at the same time. Joan Crawford Goes to Hell, produced by Hell in a Handbag Productions, runs through September 27, 2026, at Clutch Theatre, 4335 N. Western Avenue, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit www.handbagproductions.org. Cast (alphabetically): Understudies: Joan #1, Friday, September 4: Ed Jones; and Mr. Deville and Ensemble: Scott Sawa* Production Staff: * Denotes Handbag Ensemble Member ** Denotes Handbag Associate Member |
