SISTER MARY IGNATIUS EXPLAINS IT ALL FOR YOU
Vampires in Chicago has all the faults of a first play. Its plot never comes to life. Confusing, cluttered, and unfocused, it sags under the weight of its exposition. It seems like a weak Anne Rice rip-off or an extended episode of Tales From the Darkside. And, as revealed by the audience’s premature applause, it doesn’t know how to end.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
The 178-year-old George (Paul Myers) has converted his apparent lover Keith (Wayne Kneeland) to the cult of Nosferatu. Keith, a cold-blooded killer who stalks the south side making random kills, befriends Paula (JoAnn Montemurro), an amoral vampire groupie who lets them park their coffins in her cellar. Playing Nancy to his Sid, Paula badly wants to be undead, even if it means that her mother, friends, and relatives must die. Oh well, she rationalizes, Aunt Toots was getting on anyway. George tricks Paula by offering her a fortune to exchange her life for immortality, then betrays her by trying to kill her. He’s thwarted by the predawn return of Keith, who gallantly rescues her, transforms her into a fellow creature of the night, and dispatches George through some solar torture.
Abhorring abortion, she sees the miracle of birth as a punishment for having sex without wanting to procreate. When asked if all prayers are answered, she slyly responds, “Yes–but often the answer is no.” As if she holds the keys to the kingdom, she keeps a personal list of those going to hell. Her latest victim, whom she trains by rewarding him with cookies for spouting nonsense, is an impressionable seven-year-old boy named Thomas (played with touchingly real innocence by Chris Creighton).
