January 1st, 1970

BackStage Theatre Company’s ingenious, exuberant revival of Thornton Wilder’s 1942 saga is a tonic and a triumph. Because the story spans a period from the dawn of time through World War II, the stage must be transformed into a New Jersey bungalow beset by a wall of ice, a 1929 Atlantic City beauty pageant that succumbs to Noah’s flood, and a painfully contemporary war scene. Over nearly three hours, director Brandon Bruce’s 16-member cast seldom strikes a false note or misses Wilder’s trenchant wisdom, treating period ballads, clever sight gags, and deft caricatures with inexhaustible high spirits. As Sabina, the predatory maid-naarrator (sic), Rebekah Ward-Hays exemplifies Wilder’s cunning, constantly surprising us.

- Lawrence Bommer, Chicago Reader

December 6th, 2030

In a year dominated by floods, war and divisive arguments over evolution, it seems like a propitious time to remount “The Skin of Our Teeth,” Thornton Wilder’s 1942 allegory about the family of man over millennia of trouble. The Antrobus family of New Jersey endures the Ice Age (in which they sacrifice their pet mammoth and baby dinosaur), the Great Flood and a devastating war that pits father George against his psychopathic scion, Henry. BackStageTheatre Company tackles Wilder’s sometimes unwieldy three-act play with intelligence and commitment.

Brandon Bruce’s inventive staging in the basement studio theater of the Chopin mostly succeeds at walking the tightrope between absurdism and realism woven together by Wilder. And though the cast contains some underdeveloped performances, the central roles of George and his long-suffering wife, Maggie, are played by Michael Pacas and Melissa Riemer with sensitivity and panache. Rebekah Ward-Hays plays the family’s maid/Jezebel, Sabina, with sexy oomph and sad-eyed desperation. The creative sets by Deanna L. Zibello and thoughtful costumes by Megan Tan add texture to this long (nearly three hours) but well-crafted revival.

- Kerry Reid, Chicago Tribune

December 6th, 2030

Thornton Wilder’s other Pulitzer-winning play hasn’t aged terribly well. It’s not hard to see why audiences at the height of World War II would have responded enthusiastically to this flashy tale of the nuclear family muddling through various end-of-the-world scenarios. At the time, Wilder’s all-out assault on the fourth wall made the innovations of theatrical modernists like Pirandello safe for Broadway consumption. Nowadays, though, with even Fox’s prime-time lineup co-opting such metatheatrical high jinks, the creaky girders of Wilder’s cosmic comedy come to the fore. Skin’s suburbanites’ thrust into the mythic past seems like a page torn from The New Yorker’s “Shouts & Murmurs” column (“Your father’s at the office, trying to invent the alphabet?”) And suffice it to say that the plight of Man caught between Vampish Seducer and Virtous Homemaker no longer packs the punch it once did, at least outside of South Dakota.

BackStage’s playful production emphasizes the parts of the play that remain alive. It’s perhaps best at capturing the periodic flirtations with absolute meltdown, as Seth Zurer’s stage manager tries to coax Ward-Hays into continuing her performance as Sabina, or barring that, to step in himself. The company makes excellent use of Chopin’s downstairs space; the lobby becomes an integral part of the proceedings, featuring singing muses and rousing addresses. While Ward-Hays never seizes the stage with the full authority that her central role requires, Pacas’s George Antrobus radiates a befuddled largeness of spirit, while Riemer’s long-suffering and dignified Maggie anchors the play’s message of hope.

- John Beer, TimeOut Chicago