chicago

The Girls of Murder City: Fame, Lust and the Beautiful Killers Who Inspired Chicago

brittany — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

During the 1920s, a rash of killings rocked Chicago. The murderers were young women who drank, and most killed their lovers. Most were white and all-male juries that refused to believe women were capable of cold-blooded murder released most of them. During this time, the crimes were reported in the newspapers by “sob sisters,” female reporters who were able to interview female inmates and victim’s family members.

The Girls of Murder City is about this period in time, two killers in particular, Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner, and a female reporter, Maurine Watkins. Beulah and Belva both killed their lovers after the men threatened to leave them. Both were beautiful, rich, white, and relatively young. The newspapers gave both women a chance to be famous, and both used it to their advantage.

Maurine Watkins was a hardworking, pious Christian who came to Chicago with the plan to use her column to show the evils of the world. Her sarcastic, strong-willed writing was often the only counterpoint to the sob sisters’ tales of woe in the papers. She would eventually use her stories to write the play Chicago, which would become the long-running musical.

The book tells an interesting story about the rise of the “girl gunners” and the creation of Chicago. The problem is that the story feels a bit unfocused. Maurine is not the main focus of the book, but neither are Belva and Beulah (or Chicago characters Velma and Roxie, if you will). The book explores their cases and delves into the lives of the other women in jail with them, but then switches to focus on Maurine. As a result, the story feels a bit shallow. I wanted more from both of the stories. Other narratives, like the story of the murder of Bobby Franks by teenaged killers Leopold and Loeb, are shoehorned into the story and feel tacked on.

Most importantly, the book is very poorly cited. For a while, I did not know if I was reading a non-fiction book or a “non-fiction” fiction book like In Cold Blood. Douglas Perry included details he seemingly could not know unless he had been there. There is an extensive note section in the back of the back of the book, but without explanation as to where each note belonged, reading them was slow going. More confusingly, there are footnotes in the book, but not to the main facts. They function more as author asides. Actual footnotes would have made the book much better, and given it much more authority.

I enjoyed The Girls of Murder City, but it could have been much better.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, April 12th 2011

Xenogensesis II: Intergalactic Beings (4/30/2010)

admin — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 00:02:00 +0000

Museum of Contemporary Art

Chicago, Illinois

I purchased a copy of Octavia Butler’s Bloodchild at a secondhand bookstore and let it rest on my shelf for years as next-to-read. Fortunately, it was in my bag when I was shuttled from the ER to a hospital for a week-long stay: I possessed a means of transport away from a battered attempt at sterility and the monotony of crisis to an intense, sparse yet beautifully rendered world. I was reading Octavia Butler. Therefore, when Nicole Mitchell’s jazz composition Xenogenesis II: Intergalactic Beings, a tribute to Octavia Butler, appeared on the program notice for Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Art, I jumped at the chance to see it.

Mitchell and the Black Earth Ensemble presented this nine-part composition, the second part of a three-part contemplation of the unexpected result of nuclear conflagration, on a barren stage without sets or elaborate effects. As Mitchell is a noted visionary, it is not surprising that she chose to produce work inspired by the speculative author, nor is it surprising that the aural reverberations transported me just as much as Butler’s description of altered societies and beings. What did make me pause was the complete engagement that evolved between an almost full theater and the extremely innovative and almost alien sounds alternately squeaking, screaming, swelling, and rolling from the stage.

The composer and musicians came on to the stage half-draped in sheets of papery, crumpled chiffon over black clothing. White robes are conventionally associated with angels, but the intergalactic beings of the title have a more ominous mission: they seek to save the human species through abducting subjects for seduction and interbreeding. The themes of conquest and exploitation clearly mirror aspects of American history. However, these topics are presented as evocative echoes, not didactic hammer falls. The nine-movement piece is subtly wrought and ultimately powerful, starting with the stealing of our species and ending with inescapable metamorphosis. Xenogenesis manifests a haunting reminder of Octavia Butler’s verse: “All that you touch/You Change./ All that you Change/Changes you./ The only lasting truth/ is Change./ God/is Change.”

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, June 21st 2010

Endgame (04/13/2010)

admin — Tue, 18 May 2010 23:56:00 +0000

Steppenwolf Theater

Chicago, Illinois

The final stage of chess, the endgame, is a stage of the game in which few pieces are left on the board and pawns increase in significance. Endgames often center on trying to promote a pawn by moving it to the eighth rank. The king, typically sheltered from checkmate, changes into a strong piece that can be brought to the center of the board for attacks. In Samuel Beckett’s Endgame, four characters barely move in a box of a stage, rank is fluid, and no clear victory is assigned.

The Steppenwolf’s production of Beckett’s revered theatrical work is effective in its simplicity, with a set both barren and elegant, an accurate replication of the canonical script, and talented actors. More engaging than the previous staging of Endgame that I have seen—at a theater that shall remain unnamed, seeing that I fell asleep—this production benefits from strong performances, although on occasion these same performances might overshadow the deft minimalism of the text. Some of the lines, particularly early on, seem rushed, or perhaps I just require a more studied pace for thorough digestion.

The measured observations of the last half are a closer match to my understanding of Beckett. William Peterson’s Hamm is very active for a paraplegic: the audience is less likely to keep his imminent end in mind. He is regally seated on artfully makeshift throne, meticulously shifted to the center of the stage through his berating of his manservant, Clov. Hamm’s parents emerge from his and her trash cans to deliver nostalgic fugues. Particular kudos go to Martha Lavey for her poignant portrayal of Nell. Ian Barford plays Clov, and it is consistent with political readings of Beckett that a servant moves things forward. Clov’s moments of subversion contribute significantly to the work’s humor—light moments in a relentlessly bleak world. At one point Clov admonishes his master for having caused a woman to die of darkness. Endgame suggests the same end awaits us all.

Endgame plays at the Steppenwolf through June 6. David Sedaris is appearing for eight performances from June 8-13. Bruce Norris’s A Parallelogram premieres July 1 and runs through Sunday, August 29.

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, May 18th 2010

Kaija Saariaho and the International Contemporary Ensemble (11/19/2009)

admin — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

Museum of Contemporary Art

Chicago, Illinois

In the LeGuin novel The Left Hand of Darkness a character notes the dearth of female composers. Thus, I was delighted to learn of the music of Kaija Saariaho. The International Contemporary Ensemble (ICE) performed four works by Finn composer Kaija Saariaho—Brad Lubman conducting—at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

The Chicago MCA’s stage is generally a sure bet for an engaging or entertaining evening. Earlier this year I enjoyed the Hypocrites’ enthusiastic (albeit not entirely coherent) interpretation of Frankenstein, and other events have included Butoh set to Elvis, an Italian woman painting on the side of a live mare, a synchronized British insult troupe, and exquisitely formed performers executing German philosophy as verbal jujitsu.

The opening selection was “Terrestre” (2002), a flute-intensive chamber piece further enlivened by energetic percussive elements characteristic of the composer. Claire Chase’s flute solo garnered sincere and sustained applause. The composition’s inspiration is the poems of Saint-John Perse, a collection entitled Oiseaux (Birds) in particular, and perhaps it is a risk of reading the program notes, but it seemed inevitable that the flute’s song echo some ornithological element, reeds weaving amidst the percussion. “Six Japanese Gardens” followed, a sole percussionist incorporating electronic waves, as well as sampled natural sounds, song, and percussion recorded in Japan.

Saariaho was in attendance and answered questions from the audience mid-show prior to the intermission. One listener inquired on how the various elements were interwoven in the immediately previous piece, speculating that it must have been quite demanding to combine so many technical elements. The conductor immediately diminished such concerns: “He has a foot petal.” Another audience member recollected that a visiting Finnish conductor once reminisced that he and Saariaho gave a concert to an audience of two, one member of which was his mother. The composer conceded that this was indeed the case, and that her zeal to bring experimental music to new audiences once led to a performance in a kindergarten, and that on another occasion an orchestra was engaged for an event that they entirely forgot to publicize. But the arts persist.

“Solar” was the final piece performed, but no less engaging than the three previous. A high volume set of notes quickly bifurcates and then trifurcates and then again. Subsequent layers of sound soothed, but come back to the main theme, departing to return in a way that seemed almost flirtatious, but more vital. I look forward to further discovery of Kaija Saariaho’s music as well as performances by ICE.

ICE appears with the John Jaspere Company in “Truth, Revised Histories, Wishful thinking, and Flat Out Lies” at the Museum of Contemporary Art April 9 – 11, 2010

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, January 30th 2010

A Black Tie Affair

admin — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Sherrill Bodine

Forever

Sherrill Bodine is back with more characters from Chicago's fated world of fashion and money in her second book A Black Tie Affair. Rebecca Covington, a previous character of Bodine's, makes an appearance, but this story follows Athena Smith and Drew Clayworth, two former loves who still hold torches for one other.

The title fits the story, since it truly is A Black Tie Affair as we follow Athena and Drew through the glitz and glamour of Chicago's fashion world as they try to find four very special dresses stolen from the Clayworth's secret closet. These dresses hold more than a link to the past, of which Athena wishes to take full advantage of displaying them for the world in Chicago's fashion museum. They are also the only things giving Drew and Athena their long deserved second chance with a load of problems dragging behind them.

This book isn't just another story about a shallow fashionista looking for her rich and handsome forever love. A Black Tie Affair has substance with themes such as family loyalty verses loyalty to self, fighting for what you believe in, and looking beneath the surface—not just in people but in situations.

You don't have to come from Chicago or know anything about the city to appreciate this story. I didn't, but as I read through the first few chapters I had the oddest feeling that a part of the story was missing, and I had to wonder if this was a continuation from Bodine's first novel. My advice to readers is to stick with it. This book is worth the confusion in the end.

This is a story worth the read with splashes of mystery, romance, and inner torment that will make you wonder the next time you see a fashion mimicking the past.

Written by: Nina Lopez-Ortiz, December 22nd 2009

Ballads of Suburbia

admin — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 17:03:00 +0000

By Stephanie Kuehnert

MTV Books

It’s strange to find yourself feeling nostalgic about a time that you absolutely hated. I’m obviously not alone when I say that middle and high school weren’t the best times of my life; while I had friends and family that I cared about a lot and vice versa, everything else often seemed like a total mess. Looking back on it with a few years distance, I can say that I blew things out of proportion, overreacted, was irrational in my words and decisions. In short, I was your stereotypical teenage girl.

Stephanie Kuehnert’s second novel, Ballads of Suburbia, brought me right back to those heady, mid-90s days of endless troubles and tears. Kara has left her Illinois home for college in California, and comes back in Christmas 1999, wary about facing her demons, but knowing she has to. We get Kara’s story—one of teenage love, drugs, and intense pain—through flashbacks, as she remembers her past while visiting for the first time. There are some absolutely heartbreaking scenes, as Kara and her friends deal with hard drug use, depressive and suicidal thoughts, and domestic abuse: things we know teenagers deal with, but is rarely written as bluntly as in Kuehnert’s book.

The device that ties the book together is the titular collection of ballads (in the traditional sense, Kara is sure to assert, of a story-song) that Kara and her friends put together to exorcise their demons. Every main character in the novel writes their ballad, the story of something in their lives that made them who they are, for better or for worse, in a notebook. That Kara eventually is able to take the stories and make something wonderful out of them is a testament to the strength of the character, and the redemptive power of writing itself.

Kuehnert’s characters reside in Oak Park, a northern Chicago suburb, and an area that is familiar to Kuehnert, as she lives in a Chicago suburb and received her MFA from Columbia College. The familiarity and seemingly love/hate relationship with the area are obvious in the novel, as the setting is wonderfully described, from the park where Kara and her friends go to smoke and skate, to grungy basement parties, to the unbearable places Kara and her friends call home. The mid-90s setting and allusions to grunge and punk music endeared themselves to me, and produced that intense sense of nostalgia, especially when Kuehnert describes driving around with the music as loud as possible, screaming along to your favorite songs.

Although I never had quite the amount of trouble that Kara and her friends did, there is still a thread that binds us together, and made me appreciate the novel as both a reminder and a cautionary tale. Please note: the novel features somewhat graphic descriptions of drug use and self-mutilation that some might find triggering.

Written by: Dana Reinoos, December 13th 2009

Decibelle (10/15 -10/18/2009)

admin — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 09:56:00 +0000

Decibelle Festival

Chicago, Illinois

The Decibelle Music & Culture Festival was a mixed bag, so I’m going to break it down for you, Clint Eastwood style.

The Good

Me'Shell Ndegeocello is a blessing. My plus-one and I attended her 10 p.m. show at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Lincoln Square, an intimate venue with pews and cafe tables for seats and acoustics that are great for folk music. We walked in during Deep Blue Field, the opening act, which featured cello, violin, a DJ, and projected images. A lot of it was really beautiful, but most of the audience was in a coma by the time they got off the stage. I believe this was part of the intended effect; regardless, it was a nice change from fighting the weather. When the lights came up, the audience's reaction included confusion and lot of murmuring about coffee. Thankfully, The School has a full bar.

The mood change completely when Ndegeocello entered. Small in stature with short hair and giant glasses, she’s powerhouse of a woman with a big smile. She opens her mouth, picks up the bass, and out pours this gorgeous husky voice with a delicate lilt to the upper register. Ndegeocello performed old favorites, as well as songs from her new album Devil’s Halo. Her songs are driving and hard: even the love songs are tough, so much so that it seemed like the venue's system wasn't equipped to handle her sound. However, she had the audience so wrapped up in her music that few people cared.

Sister Spit: The Next Generation was also really great, once it got going. Appearing in this incarnation as a part of Women and Children First’s Sappho Salon Series for lesbians and their friends, Sister Spit is, as Decibelle explains, a queer “literary road show.” Co-founder Michelle Tea hosted a lively evening of fiction and humor, including painfully funny comics by Ariel Schrag and a novel about transgendered teens squatting in San Francisco.

The Bad

The pre-party on Thursday night at Berlin was not so great. In fact, I'd say it was gross. We arrived around 10:30 p.m., and after convincing the door person we were supposed on a list, my guest and I cozied up next to the bar, each with an aptly named promotional “mini-tini” and in close proximity to a giant jar of condoms. As the patrons trickled in, I started to think about life's difficult questions. Would my guest look as good in a high school wrestling uniform as the mustachioed bartender did? Should I start wearing more vests? Did that girl swinging her girlfriend in the air know how close the swingee's boot came to my face? Is it punishment enough that both are now pole dancing with a very real lack of rhythm in front everyone? Why hadn't I seen any of the DJs Decibelle's website had described using many exclamation marks and comparisons to Bjork? An hour and a half into the party, there was no sign of the Chicago debut of Emilie Simon, so we headed out.

The Ugly

The ugliest part of the Chicago festival was Chicago itself. The weather was classic: a painful mix of sleet and rain that felt terrible and messed with travel times for every form of transit in the city. Then, the Chicago Transit Authority in its infinite wisdom began construction on the Red Line, a primary artery of north-south transportation. Between the weather and the CTA, travel times between events tripled for both train riders and drivers. I was late to events, missed the Heartland Cafe's Music Lounge, took hours to get home after late nights, and was in such a surly state I wasn't willing to travel back down to Andersonville for the Saturday night after-party at Ole Ole.

Compounding the irritation of the weather and the transit were the organizational issues of the fest. Of the venues I attended, only the Old Town School seemed to know I was coming and didn't require several minutes of arguing at the door. The Berlin party consisted mostly of waiting. The Decibelle website and Women and Children First had different ideas about when Sister Spit started, so I chose the earlier time and wound up sitting around for half an hour waiting for the reading to start. This would have been fine if there weren't another event going on at the same time, which, as I mentioned earlier, I couldn't catch the end of because of the train.

The Future

I supposed one could argue that logistical issues are just part of the package when you're dealing with the arts, but it doesn't need to be the case. Most of these issues could have been avoided by improved communication between the festival organizers, promoters, and venues. In addition, I don't know that the spreading the events over a four neighborhoods had the intended effect, which I assumed was a cross-pollination of feminist communities. For the most parts, the boys stayed in Boystown for the dance party, the girls stayed in Andersonville at the bookstore, and the patrons of color stayed west of Western Avenue for the soul music. The lack of crossover was disappointing and points to Chicago's long history of segregation. I wish I had been able to make it back up to Rogers Park, one of the city's most diverse neighborhoods, to see how things shook out at the Heartland.

Despite these issues, the festival shows a lot of promise. Ndegeocello and Sister Spit were well worth the hassle; both of these events featured women who challenge ideas of gender in positive ways, and their intersection provided a space for thought about what it means to be a feminist.

Written by: H. V. Cramond, October 29th 2009

Chicago: The Musical (4/1/2009)

admin — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 16:36:00 +0000

National Theatre

Washington, DC, USA

A few years ago, I took my two twenty-something nieces to see the Oscar-winning movie Chicago and was aghast at the plot. I thought, to borrow their words, “OMG!” Surely, my nieces would tell my family their “radical” aunt took them to see a movie where women imprisoned for killing men belt out, “He had it coming!” while doing the fiery Cell Block Tango. But as the story unfolded, it became clear to me that this movie was not about gender as much as it was about corruption and greed. Relieved, I sat back and enjoyed the Hollywood production.

Being a fan of the movie and soundtrack, I was delighted to review the musical when it came to Washington, DC. Now, DC is known for its history, not its theatre district, so it should come as no surprise that Chicago is only running for a limited engagement of two weeks at National Theatre, America’s oldest playhouse (operating since 1835). Congress gets a longer vacation time that that.

But onto another city: Chicago. It’s the 1920s. It’s the Jazz Age. The time for razzle-dazzle decadence and, some would say, moral decline. Roxy Hart is imprisoned for killing the lover who tried to walk out on her. Her naive husband refuses to take the rap once he learns the guy sold them their furniture… at a discount.

Chicago is actually based on a true story about two women Beulah Annan (Roxie) and Belva Gaertner (Velma), who were both charged with murder in 1924. Annan, at just 23 years old, was accused of killing an intruder in April of 1924. Desperate to get off, she feigned pregnancy and received sympathy from the media, the public, and apparently, the jury. She was found innocent. Gaertner was accused of shooting her husband in May of 1924 and also managed to avoid conviction. The two slick lawyers that worked these cases form the character Billy Flynn.

The stories of jazz age women being hauled off to jail for murder provided sensational headlines. One Chicago Tribune reporter (Mary Sunshine) turned her stories into a comedy called Chicago. Its timeless theme would lend itself to the big screen three times: in 1928, in 1942 with Ginger Rogers, and in 2002 with Renee Zellweger.

The theatre version, which began in 1996, has little need for props. It was the orchestra that sat on the stage, interacting with the cast at times in hysterical vaudevillian manner (Said to the conductor: "Is that all you do, just stand there and wriggle that stick? You know, if you played an instrument, they’d give you a chair.") Indeed, the stage as well as the costumes were minimal in keeping with history. The performers took precedence and created selfless or selfish, slick or naive, sweet or deceptive (or both) characters right before your eyes.

For sure, John O’Hurley’s performance as Billy Flynn exceeded the audience’s expectations of the man that plays Seinfeld’s Mr. Peterman. His delivery and timing were impeccable. Also providing exceptional performances were Charlotte d’Amboise as Roxie and Terra C. MacLeod as Velma. Both portrayed women seeking not only freedom, but also fame upon their release—as if freedom were not enough! And, Carol Woods gives a stellar performance in her role as Matron “Mama” Morton, one of the many characters exploiting the “justice” system.

Justice may not have been delivered in Chicago-the-city but a wonderful and often outrageous portrayal of history is bestowed to audiences in Chicago-the-performance. The cast received a much-deserved standing ovation. “They had it coming,” after all.

Written by: Joan Dawson, April 4th 2009