By Hedy Weiss
Chicago Sun-Times
September 23, 1996

Take the absurd spirit of Eastern European literature from Kafka to Kundera. Spin it together with the funky, sometimes dissonant marching music of a New Orleans funeral. And you may just get a hint of what awaits you in Free Street's haunting, hugely imaginative production, "Mad Joy," now in a brief engagement at the Steppenwolf Studio Theatre.


TeenStreet, an employment training program for teen and young adults is an offshoot of Free Street, Chicago's formidable arts outreach organization. The program is aimed at using the arts to do social good but "Mad Joy," which earlier this year made an acclaimed seven-city tour to Germany, proves that it is capable of even more.

Artistic director Ron Bieganski and writing workshop leader Bryn Magnus have clearly identified a tremendous pool of youthful talent that might otherwise have gone untapped. And in a collaborative effort of formidable sophistication and complexity, they have woven a story for which even the most mature filmmaker or novelist would happily take credit.

Performed on the barest of black box stages, "Mad Joy" begins with the simple but hypnotic movement of eight bodies, crisscrossing and intersecting in a mysterious way. A rhythm develops, a tap beat is set in motion, a violin cries out in the background, a drum is sounded, and chanting begins.

Out of this increasingly hectic gathering comes Slim Jr., the narrator (played deftly by K.J.) who tells us about his mother, Mecca (the extraordinary Valerie Hilderbrand), whose death was followed by a remarkable transformation as she catapulted from old age to youth, encountering both her destructive and constructive impulses as on the road back to the birth canal.

In a surreal scenario that has little to so with traditional renderings of time travel, Mecca takes the journey back through the life of her soul in a way that is at once poetic, funny and terrifying. And a fabulous sense of disembodied time, place and circumstance are conjured through the haunting use of dance, music and sharp wordplay.

"All the hurt should disappear like stains washed out of clothing," says the narrator. And by the time Mecca becomes nothing but the fetal image of herself viewed in the backlit skin of a drum, birth and death have been wed.

Hilderbrand, a tiny figure with a haunting face, riveting focus and powerhouse delivery, is a marvel as Mecca. Tameka J. Flowers, Tomeka Hayes, Trulawn McCray, Joshua Mitchell, Happi Price (who doubled as jazz choreographer) and Keli K. Stewart are the multi-talented ensemble who make every meticulous move seem spontaneous. Karla Galva is the splendid young violinist who moves in and out of the action, playing an original score by John Paul Pacino and Barbara Sit. And Ann Boyde's evocatively hip and raggy costumes, and J.R. Lederle's lighting enhance the mood.

"Mad Joy's" effortless blend of contemporary European-style dance-theater and the deeply rooted African-American sensibilities is astonishing to behold. This is a work of immense power—one that would delight Pina Bausch, the avant-garde German choreographer, as much as George C. Wolfe and Savion Glover, the creators of Broadway's "Bring in da Noise. Bring in da Funk."