Leo Lionni’s Frederick at Chicago Children’s Theater

Or: “There’s No Running Out Of Joy”

Dear Reader, I did not intend to cry so early in the morning. A 9:30am matinee is not the time one expects to be absolutely shattered by beauty and an all pervading sense of elation and well being. These shocks are not good for my heart. Nevertheless, Frederick, based on the picture book by Leo Lionni, was an offensively excellent production that had my feet dancing, cheeks aching, and heart full watching the adventures of a little mouse family, and the excellence of the actors connecting with each other and their audience (valiantly over the larval writhing of the children: as ever, TYA is wasted on the young).

Our eponymous hero is the odd mouse out of his little community. As Summer turns to Autumn, the days of joy and music are set aside for days of hard work and scavenging. Led by Nellie (Ellie Duffey), whose nervous disposition whips the others to ever greater lengths in search of security, the mice, engineer Ernest (Shawn Pfautsch), carefree Sunny (Rachel Arianna u/s), and courageous Baby (Shea Lee u/s) set to work (there’s also a Chipmunk (Jeremy Weinstein) who is there to play mandolin and piano, and presumably has a seed trust fund somewhere).

Frederick (Brandon Acosta) is in search of a different kind of harvest. Instead of corn or hay, he spends his hours watching clouds and the changing of the leaves, trying to capture the texture of sunlight and the strength of the wind. He is sure his collection of intangibles will come in use, but can’t quite find the words to explain this need to his companions.

The natural beauty, incidentally, is generously applied by scenic designer Collette Pollard, who’s set combines the rounded simplicity of Lionni’s illustrations, the changing of seasons on a rolling cranky (A cranky! By all things holy! You have no idea how hard that is to pull off, nor how beautiful it can be), and the general delight in making small things big. The cozy atmosphere is also enhanced by the costuming of Mieka van den Ploeg, whose mouse accouterment are cute rather than uncanny(extra points for Sunny’s pinecone coat.)

The music (by Sarah Durkee and Paul Jacobs) is a a similarly gorgeous smorgasbord of folk forward tunes, sweet and sincere. While perhaps not lyrically as captivating as it could be (not everyone can write “A Year With Frog and Toad” a show stuffed full of bangers) the song’s melody and springiness, their tender simplicity (“The Things I Used to Think”) or harmonious verve (“We’ve Got Work To Do” and “No Mouse Gets Left Behind”)  set toes to tapping and heads to waggling and and hearts to singing like a good musical should.

It is an especially good musical for showcasing its cast and letting them shine. Pfautsch and Duffey both exceed and excel in their mastery of mousiness. (It’s a weird thing to explain, dear reader, but some actors are just more gifted than others at presenting anthropomorphic rodents. Something in their carriage, something in their focus, something in the cadence of their voice. Sufficed to say, they earn their ears and tails).

As Ernest, Pfautsch’s twinkles across the stage, glowing in his show stopper “Bells and Whistles,” but also locked in a performance of both nuanced exasperation and encouragement. Duffey excels as the shows quote unquote antagonist: Nellie is eaten alive by fear in a way that’s hilarious to children in the audience while extremely resonant and empathetic to adults. Her own number “Fredrick’s Eyes” in which she belts and show-kicks through her frustration with Frederick’s equanimity and her own inability to find the same, was a highlight of the show (even featuring a surprise saxophone!) Duffey’s amusing but heartfelt anguish brought Nellie to life and anchored her company around. It even went so far as to have me thinking, “She’s got a good point, Frederick. Leave the clouds for five minutes and go help get in the corn.”

For Acosta, though he is possessed of a beautiful singing voice and a radiant sense of wonder, credibly absorbed by and absorbing the beauty of the world, it still takes a bit of a run to catch up with the rhythm of the cast. Censored by Nellie and Ernest, encouraged by Sunny and Baby (Lee, with excellent comedic chops, nails the infant mouse’s manner), his Frederick cannot quite hold up his end in the eternal debate between art and industry, poetry and labor. Again, while I know the memory of an autumn leaf is just as important as putting corn on the spool table, you still have to be able sell the you have to prove it, if only by force of faith.

Still by the time that winter has settled in and all the wonder and hope seemed to have vanished, Acosta makes his mark. With the teary sweetness that pours from simple tale of “Four Little Field Mice,” and leading the cast through the finale “There’s No Running Out of Joy,” he is a fully meshed with his cast and the story and the audience. Everyone’s attention is captured, every face bright with smiles. Which is how I ended sobbing outside the theater before noon on a Friday morning. It really is true of joy, laughter, fellowship, or a good story “the more you use the more you have,” and I left brimful and eager to share in the radiance I’d seen.