Calamity West has two things that, in a just and sensible world, would lead inevitably to success: a pen name to give Lemony Snicket a run for his money and a knack for drama that makes her one of the best playwrights in Chicago. Or maybe the country. Or the universe.
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Common Hatred sounds like somebody’s undergrad thesis project: An overt homage to Chekhov, the script borrows key plot points and relationships from all of the Russian master’s major plays. It was “devised” by the cast before West put pen to paper. But it’s no style exercise or study in committee-think. It’s an astute application of Chekhov’s elusive, exacting methods, exposing the clumsy absurdity of love—especially love bolstered by little but unexamined hope—among an unremarkable group of friends and family gathered for the birthday of the person everyone likes the least. The result is penetrating, graceful, immediate, and achingly true. And West’s subtle interpolation of global imagery—the earth, one character muses, is held up by shelves made of ice—gives the play a nearly cosmic resonance.
Three weeks before the play begins, the other female student, Eleanor, hanged herself, perhaps encouraged by violent, disturbing imagery in Nan’s stories. Nan now lives in Eleanor’s abandoned apartment, a fact she conceals from everyone except William, who may be her new lover or a failed tryst. Calvin, who was likely Eleanor’s lover, has brought a new story to class about a woman’s inexplicable suicide. The Professor demands he write the suicide out before he’ll be allowed to read it.
Through 12/8: Thu-Mon 7:30 PM, no shows Thu-Sun 11/28-12/1 City Lit Theater 1020 W. Bryn Mawr 773-340-2543jackalopetheatre.org $10-$15
