Heat Wave

Eric Klinenberg’s book about the 1995 heat wave that killed hundreds of Chicagoans has a section on overwhelmed city services, another on City Hall spin, a third about the reaction of news organizations. Following that pattern, Simoncic’s stage adaptation has one story line about the overwhelmed morgue, another set in Mayor Daley’s PR office, and a third about a Tribune reporter. We alternate among the three, interspersed with vignettes about victims.

The problem with this arrangement is that Klinenberg’s Heat Wave is a serious sociological work; he can spend 40 or 50 pages on each topic, citing statistics, interviews and theories. When Simoncic keeps everything compartmentalized, it kills any sense of drama; how much conflict can there be when there’s hardly any interaction? Watching Heat Wave is like watching ten different plays at once, and none of them are very interesting.

It’s a shame, because the ’95 phenomenon is a fascinating, disturbing topic. But Simoncic only sets up his fictionalized, cliché-ridden characters in arguments so they can spout Klinenberg’s facts and quote public officials; meanwhile, Klinenberg’s thoughtful, in-depth analysis of the ways in which race and class played into the problem are simplified to sub- Crash levels. The play is incohesive and antitheatrical. Duncan’s production doesn’t do it any favors, from Rick and Jackie Penrod’s generic, unevocative set to the truly awful acting by much of the large cast. Some moments, both in Simoncic’s script and Duncan’s production, just feel careless, like when the Trib reporter finally sits down with a city official in the 100-degree heat—over nice, hot cups of Starbucks. Read the book.