Cherrywood Partying this Weekend (Guest Reviewer POP TARPS)

Holla at’cha, Cherrywatchers! Party expert, Pop Tarps, here. Givin’ you the 411 on where to spot all the beautiful bods and hot messes of C-Wood when they wanna toss aside their playacting scripts, pop some psychostimulants, and dance a Friday night all the way into the following Monday around 9:30am. From the exclusive $900 plate galas to the cheeky, back alley kink clubs, these celebs will be the blip blip blip on my fun-o-finder and then the hummada hummada hummada in your day2day convos around the La Croix fountain.

If you plan on cashing in your Virgin Atlantic frequent flyer miles this holiday weekend to visit family in some boondock city in Minneapolis or Arlington Cemetery in wherever that is, cancel those dead end engagements. STAT. OMGawd. Chicago is about to get caliente hot. Like sriracha sauce hot. Like Efron/Hudgens lovechild hot. Like Great Chicago Fire II hot. Sick C-Wood party action is all the buzz this weekend and anybody who is anybody who has a sexybody is asking, “Where are these sexy soldiers of the stage supposed to be glad-handin’ and booty-bumpin” Well, a-ten-hut, Private. The one line you wanna be fallin’ into is the one outside of Le Passage this Saturday. If you have to ask, “Where’s that,” do yourself a service and stay at home with your chamomile and your Northern Exposure box set.

Sources tell me that some 8 or 9 members of the cast plan on rolling up to the sultry discotheque sometime around midnight. And in style, too! I’ve been told that the jet-black suits at Mary-Arrchie have reserved each bombshell and hunk-hound their own personal stretch Hummer for the trip down (or on? lol) LSD. Now that’s what I call fringe benefits! Oh, and did I mention who’s leading this anything but passé pose to the Gold Coast’s creme de la crème de las nightclubs. Let’s just say, no, ahhhhh, Simon says, “Shhhhhh”.

If you want to bump buns and kiss faces with these A-listers , B-warned, C-Wooders are no early birds. Be prepared to stay out late! And definitely bring some extra c-notes. Not only do they act big, but they spend big, too.

As always, I’ve said too much.

Pop Tarps

An Interview with Mary Rose O'Connor! EXCLUSIVE!

I recently sat down with the gorgeous and eye-shadowed Mary Rose O'Connor to talk with her about all things Cherrywood!  Did she lose her cool, or was it fun for all?  Let's see!  NOW!

Tell me about a time when you had to work closely with a coworker whom you disliked or with whom you had trouble working. What did you do to make the relationship work so you could succeed for your company?


That's a great question Eric. It's hard to answer this because I'm the kind of person who really gets along with everyone. But let's say, for example I worked very closely with 49 people that I may or may not have disliked or had trouble working with. I've found that in large-group circumstances such as these, people really respond best to a nurturing figure in the room. It makes everyone feel like they're being thought of as individuals, taken care of, and most of all adorable.

In my employment history, I don't usually encounter a lot of one-on-one conflict, but in large groups, it is hard to manage, and even harder to predict. So as a precaution, a great strategy I've come up with, is plant a gorgeous shirtless man in the room every night, and then infect him with various undetectable strains of influenza. Force that man to share drinks or make physical contact with every fondle-worthy female in the room; they won't resist because WHY WOULD YOU. Over time, the illness will spread to the entire group. Once this has taken affect, I then have the ultimate advantage of playing Mama Hen. Also providing couches and beds for which these groups can snuggle or give back-rub trains has proven to be a really effective tool in keeping them cooperative, smiling, and semi-erect. I understand that this becomes a question of ethics, but I'm a non-confrontational person. I have to find ways around my (very few) shortcomings.

Tell me about a time when you disagreed with the actions or decisions of your manager or supervisor. How did you approach the situation? Was the situation resolved to your satisfaction or did nothing change?


I'm glad you brought up David Cromer. Listen, the man is brill. Have you even SEEN Cherrywood? BUT his love for Quiznos is something I could never stand behind. I'm a positive person, and as I said before, non-confrontational. So instead of calling him out on their unappealing commercials and dangerous location at the corner of Clarendon and Broadway, I decided to lead by example. On many occasions I came in with a Subway bag of delicious, steaming, meatbally goodness. Perhaps he thought I was indicating too much when I moaned with each bite, paused, and then watched to see if he noticed. I tried my best, but I guess that wasn't good enough. I'm not even 100% sure he noticed. Regardless, the fact remains that we never met half-way on the sandwich front. I don't think this necessarily hurt our working relationship, but lunch breaks were always a little bit tense, from my end of things.

Is Dereck Garner really that handsome?


I hired him for a very specific reason, and he gets the job done. [See also: Influenza strains.]

Tell me about a time when you worked with a friend or a coworker who became a friend. What did you do to ensure that the friendship bore positive results for your company?

Two words: Hinkles, HJs

Describe a conflict you were involved in at work. How did you resolve the conflict? What happened next with that coworker or team?

Well, a couple weeks ago, the cast killed Craig Cunningham. No one outside of Cherrywood has really noticed that he's been missing. I think they just assume he's been rehearsing, but I worry about the authorities stumbling onto the sign-in sheet and noticing his name isn't there. The cast is really good about not signing in for other people. No one's been questioned yet, and I actually haven't be able to talk about it until now. So again, thank you for interviewing me.

Do you think you are better than me?

No, you're the famous Eric Roach. I'm a huge fan of your work.

What are three examples of the kinds of behaviors, actions, or attitudes you are most likely to conflict with at work?

 

Being called lady as a term of endearment, PDMs (Public Displays of Massaging), "boy trouble"

Cherrywood (Review to Come)

We don't want to say what we think of this play yet, but a review in the works and we hope you are all proud of yourselves.

CHERRYWOOD REVIEW Pt. 1

The night finally came.

This is a night I have waited for for years and years.

Basically since I've known David Cromer and Rich Cotovsky. We have been friends and drinking partners, respectfully, but now it was a chance to enjoy their art and the art of other actors I respect, admire and would like to kiss.

The remarkable Eric Roach and I have been half-assedly following this production with a real eye on the human stories behind this bohemoth, and tonight would be no different.

I had spent the day on the beach, quietly reflecting on what I expected from my experience, and what they could humanly offer me, for my expectations were great and impossible to meet.

But that's the thing with this world. You read about things you want to see or visit and watch on television advertisements that promise you a certain feeling of comfort for buying their product, but are often left with more questions than answers. Expectations are very rarely met.

And then I went to Gene's Sausage Shop. Sweet Lord Above I have never been transported to a planet filled with so much beauty. I had heard stories, but had been let down by my friends reccomendations in the past. For example: last week a friend told me to rent Twilight (the first one) and since there has been so much talk recently about these weirdo kids and that girl Kristen Stewart, that you just wanna hit so hard because she makes that useless emotionless face all girls have when they are 16 and thought that they couldn't get pregnant if they just acted like they didn't care enough, and man did that movie suck. Wait. Maybe it didn't. I couldn't tell you for sure, because I fell asleep when the VAMPIRE FAMILY SOFTBALL GAME started.

Anyway, I bought this premade sausage/mushroom/pepper thing at Gene's and it was safely in the fridge at home to either celebrate the great show, or to console me if I was let down by the Mary Arrchie ensemble.

I arrived at the theater in great style and was recieved immediately by the famed and beautiful Mary Rose O'Connor. I do not know if she is a Stage Manager or Body Wrangler or Whatever but man is she nice to see when you first get there. She was all smiling, and had a couple of chairs for me and my wife and my friend. She said that these were the best seats in the house and was sure I wouldn't be disappointed with her choice, lifting my expectations.

I walked into the theater that I immediately noticed was in a different shape than usual. Also, there were so many famous audience members! I was surrounded by the likes of Bryson Engleson, Manny Tammayo, Anita Deely, Mark Jeffries, Nikki Klix, Scott Oken, Sam Szigeti, Zach Bloomfield, James Elly, Kim Boler, Kevin Alves, Ryan Palmer, Shannon O'Neil and basically if you had an All Star team of rocking fucking dudes and chicks, this is it and they were all there to see this play!

This awesome awesome play (I had heard).

The lights went out. The play had begun.

Out comes this dude with a beard named Ryan Borque, I think. It's hard to guess everyones names, so from here on out, I might just make up some people's names, or even just call everyone Jenn Santanello, because I think she is so nice and great in this show. So Beardy comes in and stands by this lamp and starts talking about some crazy shit about what it's like to be him and how parties are all like this chance to change.

Then Carlo Garca and Shannon Clausen come out, and I guess they are roommates with Beardy, and they keep wanting to talk about fucking each other and bands that start with the letter "A" and I wonder what kind of peppers are in the sausage and mushroom thing I got at home because I bet the mushroom are baby portabella even though they were advertised as crimini.

That's the thing sometimes with plays with hippie kids in them. Sometimes while you are watching it, and they are talking about the Buzzcocks or the dangers of WalMart, you start to wonder about what you have in your refridgerator.

The doorbell rings and who is behind it? None other than the incredible Caroline Neff, dressed like the other hippies, maybe to fit in, or maybe she is a spy, or maybe they have the same costume designer.

Neff brought the milk. "What does that mean?" you ask. It means that Caroline Neff brings on this jar of milk and they all start drinking from it. Is this milk an awesome metaphor for...say..."adulthood" or..."alcoholism"? Let's get to that later.

Next is a beautiful little vignette between two older gentlemen named Noah Simon and Raymond Shoemaker. They talk about going to parties and what kinds of questions people ask each other at parties and man I hope they used a lot of garlic in the marinade and what kind of sausage do you think it is because I like pork sausage the most and oh my god Geoff Button is here.

Geoff Button is talking to a person named Dereck Garner. Dereck Garner is a dude that your mom tried to steal away if you are a girl, or a guy that you experimented with in college if you are a guy because he really gets it you know?

He never wears a shirt and he's always trippin' on ecstacy and giving you milk. Geoff Button wanted to fuck him, and so will you. Nothing is more attractive than knit caps and bare chests on the same guy at the same time. Dereck Garner is the Mayor of Bonerdelphia.

Well, it was Geoff Button's turn to give me a monologue. It was about how he feels dead inside and all he does is wag his head at people and he will gladly bang a dude just to feel alive again because his soul is crying and I wonder if lemonade goes good with that style of mushrooms and sausage and what if I really like it and want some more but they are sold out and the doorbell rings again and then everyone on the planet who isn't in the audience walks in.

It is magical.

Dudes, I see a lot of plays and there are some moments that you just can't beat, and this has that.

You can tell no one in the cast is sleeping together, because they all dance like they want to see each other naked, but are too shy to ask.

For example, if Nick Mikula would just ask Brianna De Giulio to get naked, you know she would. That isn't here nor there, though.

What is here and there is Geoff Button crowd surfing around the room, and holy Lord is it cool.

Rich Cotovsky got shot, too. I think that was just in the show I saw though, because it was so believable, I am pretty sure, he really got shot. Probably by one of the Jenn Santanellos out there.

Mob justice takes over and everyone has a box of something and the gun is somewhere in the fridge or whatever and I wonder if my sausage salad is in there too.

Get back to the dancing, you beautiful children!

It was not to be though, we talked some more about WalMart and right when things were about to maybe turn into an orgy, somebody invited a black guy. Everyone eats pizza!

Molly Reynolds ate some. Marika Englehardt ate some. You know who didn't?

Have you ever been to a party where there WASN'T a creepy guy in the bathroom bleeding everywhere and breaking up with his girlfriend?

Me niether. At this party, it was none other than Michael Dice Jr., gettin' weird on some Santanello about...I don't know, but that didn't matter, because not everything is for us to know all the time. Plus, the bathroom moves around the house, so...

Listen, I have much more to say about this play, but let's use this as a jumping off point for conversations about Cherrywood, Geoff Button, and Gene's Sausage Shoppe.

Let's talk more about this later. If you are looking for a pull quote though, let's just say...

"SAUSAGE IS A SEX DRUG FOR YOUR HEART BUT CHERRYWOOD IS A SEX DRUG FOR YOUR EYES AND EARS."

Fuck You, WalMart!!!

Joan of Arc of Cherrywood (Preview by ROB KOZLOWSKI)

I’m seeing CHERRYWOOD tomorrow night, which is directed by David Cromer. I’ve never met the man, although I’ve seen him in person as the stage manager of OUR TOWN. At one point during the play, he ambled about four feet away from me, at which point I felt a kind of warm calm envelop me that I could not explain until I realized that the sinus pressure I had been feeling had miraculously disappeared. I tried to beckon him nearer so he could do something about my eyesight, but it was to no avail.

Now you may think I’m exaggerating Cromer’s effect on audiences. But critical acclaim has fallen upon Cromer’s head like an anvil in a Road Runner cartoon, and it’s gotten to the point that if one of his productions fails not only to entertain, but heal the sick, audiences and critics alike will set him on fire.

But I don’t think David Cromer wants to be the Joan of Arc of the American Theater. He’s not a woman, he’s not French and he’ll never be played on screen by Milla Jovovich (and neither will anyone else, fictional or not, for the rest of eternity, if we’re lucky).

Like I wrote in the paragraph three paragraphs before this paragraph, I’ve never met the man. He has taught at Columbia College, where I teach, which means I have something in common with him that I can bring up if I ever happen to meet him.

We also have the letter “O” in our last names.

That will be a short conversation.

Anyway.

CHERRYWOOD has 49 actors in it. That fact alone makes me want to see it. Add Cromer to the mix and the fact that they’re doing the damn show at Angel Island, a theater so small they’d need to grease the doorways for Audrey Hepburn to fit through, makes this show a must-see for me.

It better be good.

Cherries in the Woods and Asses in the Seats (Preview by James Anthony Zoccoli)

I don’t know much, but I know what I like. To the point where I can look at something – advertising for a movie, packaging of a candy bar, the child-bearing hips of a human female – and know instantly whether or not it’s for me.

“Crunchy peanut butter coated in a rich toasted coconut? Nice try, Zagnut. See you in hell!”

“The critics agree this film simultaneously transcends and redefines a genre? Whatever, Dark Knight!”

That’s just how I talk to the advertising, though. I’m much nicer to human females. However, it is for this aforementioned reason that I so seldom go to the theatre to see plays.

“What does a guy named Tennessee know about New Orleans? Keep on rollin’ down the line Streetcar! I’m takin’ the bus, thank you very much!!”

“A heartwarming celebration of one young boy’s triumph against the odds set in a small mining town? Piss off & top o’the mornin’ to ya’, Billy Elliot! I’ll be in the WC smoking a fag, you ponce!!”

Well, every so often something comes along that disarms my hostile retaliation to the assault of advertising.

You know what I mean. That constant onslaught of overactive superlatives and underimaginative descriptions that accosts my senses and tries to pick my pocket - like that dude at the Taste of Chicago last year, which is the only reason that I’m going back this year is so that I can find that son of a bitch and follow him around and catch him “accidentally bumping into” somebody else and “accidentally bump into” his face with my fist. Repeatedly.

But I digress. Or do I? Because that’s the way I feel about the marketing approach of most everything in the world today. Everywhere you look there’s somebody lying to you and trying to take your money.

Contrarywise, there are those rare times when you read some simple, straight forward account that touches your heart and you know that it’s the real thing, baby. A testimonial. A phrase. A font. None of us know what it is, exactly, this magically convincing sales formula but it compels you out of your seat into action. Into the line at the movie theatre or the grocery store or the technology shack. I still respond to this kind of advertising – literally, I talk to it – but with a lot less exclamation points after each line.

The other day, I’m leafing through the entertainment section of the newspaper (I didn’t think they still made newspapers but they do because what else are we gonna’ use to wrap our fish and line our bird cages) and I read: Cherrywood.

“Cherrywood?” First, I figured it was just the best porn title ever. I love puns. I love compound words! This is BOTH!!

Then, I realized it was just a stageplay and I thought, “Since when does the Admiral Theatre produce plays?”

Finally, I learned that Cherrywood was a incredible piece of experimental performance art. So, I figured I should get over my fear of the internet and read some more about this show. On their website, the marketing experts at Mary-Arrchie Theatre Company (who, in stroke of genius also call their space by a different name: Angel Island) describe the show as such: ‘A hilarious and intriguing bender loaded with great music, social commentary and cutting-edge structure. Sure to be one wild ride!’

And I’m like: “Bender? Loaded? Music? Commentary? Okay, okay! Enough!! I’m in!!! Let ME on the wild ride!!!!”

But it doesn’t stop there: “Cutting-edge structure??? UNCLE!!!!!”

Until I scream out the window: “THIS IS THE PLAY FOR ME!!! Take me, Cherrywood!! Take me now!”

(Okay, I guess there are still lots of exclamation points, but these are the joyfully-noisy kind, not the furiously-angered kind.)

Well. As if that weren’t enough, word on the street is that it’s also about Werewolves, dude. And you know where there are Werewolves, there are Werebitches. HOT. MUCH hotter than human females. (Sorry, human females, but you know it’s true.) If there is anything that can guarantee a fulfilling and cathartic theatre experience, it’s a stank-ass room full of sweatified actors under the brilliant guidance of brilliant director David “Brilliant” Cromer groping their way through an avant-garde mad-lib…and all the while you don’t know which of these Werebitches is gonna’ kill somebody.

Euripides knew it. Shakespeare would have done it himself if it wasn’t for the whole Queen thing. Brecht is green with envy and rolling over in his grave.

I’m no reviewer, but if I was, I would say something like: “This Cherrywood is truly a thing of wonder and awe which must be beheld to be believed and should be seen by all.”

Plus, I read somewhere that Cedric the Entertainer is in it and I absolutely LOVE that cat!! He be havin’ me ROLLIN’, y’all.

I haven’t even seen the thing yet and I give it 50 Stars.

GO USA:jaz.

What Cherrywood will be like when I eventually get to go see it (which may not be for awhile) by John Alan Taflan

As an actor on America’s third coast, I’m often asked to imagine things, places, and even whole persons in an attempt to entertain and enlighten a gathering of individuals.

Having restricted my more executable mind-play to the highly glossed boards of this city’s more endowed institutions (and those deemed worthy by the Union of Acceptable Actors), I was surprised to receive a call on my Blackberry from a Mr. Anderson Lawferson (a notorious, non-acceptable actor). I usually avoid answering calls from area codes other than 312 or 212, but something told me to not ignore the ringer this time. Let this be a lesson in trusting your instincts, folks; Anderson’s gruff, will-bleed-for-the-art honesty had me hooked the from his first sharp intake of breath. The proposition was a simple one: “Go see this Cherrywood thing and let us know if there really are 49 people in it.” I had a better idea. Being that I’m currently in the pre-Broadway tryout of Vanilla Sky: A Musical over at the Oriental, there was no way I could make it to some gas station on the North Side. I said, “Anderson, you tell me what it’s about, and I’ll just use my professional imagination to fill in the details.” He wasn’t very much help.

In any case, Cherrywood, as I see it:

Cherrywood opens in total darkness. The low rumble of approaching water, starting from the back of the “theatre,” slowly overtakes the space with a massive crash. As the lights come up, we see a haphazardly-dressed pile of what we later learn are 49, twenty-something party goers (I think the water is a metaphor for something, too).

As the everyone slowly awakens, an impromptu jug-band forms stage left to accompany the evening’s festivities (and provide appropriate foley effects). As the girls of the cast (who are all named Jane Smith) begin arranging an intricate parade of glass animals, the men of Cherrywood (Joe Smiths, all of them), begin the painstaking task of hanging a dozen or so boulders above the stage and audience.

I should note that the bevy of beautiful, non-professional actors and actresses is truly an inspiring sight. You really get the feeling –and audibly hope--that they would do anything on that stage. Harnessing Kirk Lynn’s comprehensive and detailed opus (think In Search of Lost Time sans the Proustian “moralizing”) the cast delivers at every turn. In a particularly moving exchange, a 10 person daisy-chain of bros “ice” each other using that most delicious of malt beverages.

With relationships this involving, the plot is almost secondary (something to do with fundraising to save a logging permit). Relationships come together, re-form, and fall apart as the group works itself into a frenzy of dancing, dialogue and relationships. As the party reaches its climax, one of the intoxicated Joe Smiths trip over an ottoman to reveal a mysterious buried hatch. The Joe and Jane Smiths enter the hatch to find a Frenchwoman protecting some sort of clock.

Turns out, everyone is dead and the play ends with the group gathering in a church to hug their fathers.

In the event that Vanilla Sky doesn’t transfer—who are we kidding, it will—I’ll be excited to take in a showing of Cherrywood for myself. Thank you, Anderson Lawferson, for giving me this opportunity to get back to my roots. Call again, anytime.