February 07, 2011|By Nina Metz, Tribune reporter
Leaden and plodding, the world premiere of "Bordello" at Chicago Dramatists somehow finds a way to portray legalized prostitution as a subject so dull and dramatically inert that one could be forgiven for wondering what the fuss is all about.
More to the point, playwright Aline Lathrop's workplace drama doesn't quite know how to engage with the topic at hand as it chronicles the lives of women employed at a Nevada brothel very much like the one portrayed on the long-running HBO reality series "Cathouse," a place where the smiles are probably as false as the pneumonic enhancements.
The TV show has a rueful subtext undercutting its otherwise peppy tone, but Lathrop doesn't quite have the same ear for bathos or the contradictory impulses that make humans so complex.
We're not meant to be titillated by these women so much as feel for their plight, which is fine up to a point. You keep waiting for the play to take big risks, but a rigid self-seriousness holds it back. There's a barely explored paradox here, of independent women free of sexual hang-ups who are still beholden to traditional notions of gender roles — Lathrop goes heavy on the second part of that equation, but doesn't give enough weight to the first.
Filled with dialogue that is precipitously close to outright cliche, most of the play transpires in a bland employee break room where the women — each conforming to a type — wander in to snack, commiserate, hide and bicker. Their work is decidedly unglamorous — banal, even. Lathrop has the right instinct there, but she buries it under a schematic setup that has all the artistry of a made-for-TV-movie.
This is as earnest a look at prostitution as you're going to find, and you might be able to make an argument in favor of this approach if the performances had a credible rawness to them. In a tactical error from director Meghan Beals McCarthy, the cast is as convincing in their roles as Demi Moore was in the movie "Striptease," which is to say, not at all. You appreciate the effort but never really buy it.
These women need to be sexy on some level for the play to work. The actresses are attractive in their own way, but they never manage to strike the right attitude, nor do you believe any one of them could command $500 a customer. As an ensemble, they haven't found their way into this world. (Kyra Morris, as a war vet who mostly keeps to herself, manages to inject some nuance where it counts). But mainly the actresses just seem lost in this production, wearing their lingerie like Halloween costumes rather than the work uniforms they actually are.
nmetz@tribune.com
When: Through March 6
Where: Chicago Dramatists, 1105 W. Chicago Ave.
Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Tickets: $32 at chicagodramatists.org