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“What I admired about Being 11 was its originality. It never resorts to clichés or sitcom situations. It is accurate Catholic school fare with a freshness and energy that universally relates to our never forgetting our pasts. Being 11 allowed us to reminisce our youth to see what we were and where we came from and we get a few laughs along the way. This is an adult show and not for your children.”
-Tom Williams – Chicago Arts & Entertainment Newspaper Feb 22, 2003

“Anyone who has attended Catholic school will feel at home in the arms of “Being 11,” Courtney Shaughnessey’s comic reflection on a chapter from her past… The crackerjack adult cast takes Shaughnessey’s young characters to heart, etching each into a vibrant portrait. There are moments that are laugh-out loud funny and others that deliver pointed reflections on life and the surprises that it sometimes serves up.”
-Mary Houlihan – Chicago Sun Times

Considering the non-stop popular appeal of theater that pays satiric and overly familiar tribute to Catholic education (from "Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?" to "Late Nite Catechism"), the fact that Courtney Shaughnessy’s St. Peter’s School-set comedy, "Being 11," transcends cliches is nothing short of…well…a miracle. This heartfelt semi-autobiographical work, receiving its world premiere by Serendipity Theatre Company at Victory Gardens, takes a non-self-conscious journey back to seventh-grade at a Catholic school in Antioch, Ill., to try to connect those dots that zigzag from childhood to adulthood.

Instead of casting herself or making the central character a girl, Shaughnessy crafts a likeable taciturn male protagonist – Michael Owens – who, as an adult, returns to that crucial period between his adolescence and teen years to interview former classmates and better understand the small moments that shaped their lives. But the writer is astute and daring enough to avoid a more literal documentary style.

Most of this fast-paced, uplifting play takes place in 1987 at a Catholic institution hovering somewhere between "Sister Ignatius Explains It All For You" and "Sister Act" – somber acts of contrition collide with the flamboyant Father Bobby ("a homosexual on fire"); the dreaded "sin sheets’ (presented during Confession) clash with students suffering in silence over the abuse by or loss of a parent. Apart from the more stereotypical psychotic Sister Birdeen (who refers to her pointer as "Mr. Staff" and paper clips used tissues to the inside of her sleeve), the playwright does not focus solely on the absurd strictures of Catholicism and its ensuing guilt.

Beyond the Christmas pageants and recitation of the sacraments, "Being 11" explores those little defining power plays and revelations that occur in the microcosm of the classroom. The work’s main catalyst, Michael Owens, transferred to St. Peter’s School after his father died. He refuses to speak but expresses himself in his journals. It’s Michael who observes his eclectic band of classmates – from the angelic Kim White on whom he has a crush to the stuttering Donnie Price and bully Meg Winkler -- and goes back to interview them.

But this is no vindictive reunion comedy; it’s more of a non-judgmental glimpse into how we all come full circle (or only half-way). Interestingly, most of the students as adults hold down ordinary jobs (some have kids), yet a thread of unhappiness or dissatisfaction runs through them all. At the same time, they avoid self-pity.

Director Michael Matthews has assembled a powerhouse group of actors who avoid the temptation of falling into the shallow "type" trap. They fearlessly embrace being children again. Everyone will recognize the shy kid, the frustrated guy who always picks fights, the teacher’s pet. Yet, more importantly, they will see them as multidimensional individuals, not as caricatures. The cast convincingly gives itself over to the inhibitions, anguish and aching assertions of youth.

One of the most exhilarating sequences is a large-scale romantic "dream-sequence" number that screams ’80 music videos; another has the class belting out a music exercise (called "Fried Eggs and Ham") in different styles -- the "alien" one being the most hilarious. Other unforgettable moments include Father Duffy (in florid Irish lilt) reprimanding Michael for his obsession with Atari games; the tomboy Meg Winkler’s plea during the casting of the holiday pageant: "God, I wish I’m Mary!"; and the whole egg-baby saga in which the incubating chicken eggs given to the students to care for suffer ridiculously tragic fates (Father Bobby, for instance, accidentally sits on two of them).

Then there are more profound segments. I related to the lunch scene, which was brilliantly written and executed. Besides the lunch boxes (or one student’s Piggly-Wiggly brown bag) that mold our personalities, the writer analyzes the whole dynamic of what parents prepare for their kids and the psychological significance of trading, say, a mini-box of Sunkist raisins for Oreo’s. The secrets of civilization are jam-packed into this raucous, tragicomic scene.

I still remember the shame and embarrassment I would feel upon opening my lunch box many times and finding a hard-boiled egg (not exactly a cool seventh-grade food). So, instead of suffering the humiliation, I would close my lunchbox and tell my classmates I wasn’t hungry. I must say, though, the hard-boiled egg wasn’t as bad as the cow-tongue sandwich one girl used to bring almost on a daily basis.

As the product of a Catholic education, I found myself having my own self-defining flashbacks -- like my farcical private piano lessons with Sister Janet, who spent most of the time fiddling with the cross-shaped zipper on her dress as I practiced my scales; or how, during Lent, we had to keep color-coded track of our behavior on a calendar (shading in blue, for example, if we ate candy we were supposed to give up; green for being good; and red for doing something holy, like saying the rosary or going to Mass).

Right now, my brain is being flooded with pivotal junior-high memories – and that’s what I think the artists set out to do: To allow us to go back in time and reexamine our lives from constantly shifting perspectives in order to move forward.

The entire cast shines. Standouts include Lauren Pesca as the maniacally defiant Meg Winkler (a bully with a conscience); Tracie Louise Sellers as the silently regretful "good girl" Kim White; Adam Belcuore as the gently observant Michael Owens; Paul Vitulli as cowardly troublemaker Kevin Brady; Jeremy Zeman as stuttering scapegoat Donnie Price; Nick Lewis as the grieving but good-hearted Chris Gorski; Kimberlee Soo as the quietly suffering Lisa Dogan; Carrie Chantler as free-spirited music teacher Ms. Keller; Greg Gion as a colorful Father Bobby and Father Duffy; and Dennie Sherer as the low-key, wisdom-spouting janitor Mr. Thelen.

Scenic designer Jenifer Lampson creates smart illusions with her shifting-screen sets. The production is complemented by costume designer Sarah Lankenau’s navy-blue uniforms (and each cast member subtly reveals personalities via shirts hanging out or neatly tucked in, etc.).

The work’s only minor flaw is its rather unoriginal framing by a storm and the characters parading across the stage with umbrellas. But that theatrical misstep can be forgiven. "Being 11" bridges the gap between specific Catholic school-based humor and those universal travels across our life path of defining moments.•

Serendipity Theatre Company’s production of "Being 11" runs through March 15 at Victory Gardens Theater, 2257 N. Lincoln. Tickets: $15. Call 773-871-3000 or log onto www.serendipitytheatre.com.

In Courtney Shaughnessy's "Delores Dogan," an 85-minute monologue wherein the bedroom-dwelling title character unloads on her diary and an audience, we watch a teenage girl grow from gawky, insecure junior high geek to self-aware, collegiate sophisticate finally happy in her own skin. That's not exactly a narrative with dazzling twists and turns.

But despite the caterpillar-turns-butterfly trajectory familiar from countless TV amplifications and exploitations, Shaughnessy's writing is better than the premise would suggest. Unlike most of her Hollywood counterparts, this young, Chicago-based writer at least keeps her alter-ego rooted in the small victories of exurban naturalism.Delores is from Antioch, and her stomping ground is not the florid O.C. but the local Dairy Queen, where a sundae's untimely dribbling can ruin a whole weekend.

Shaughnessy is a name to watch — her more complex but also youth-oriented show, "Being 11," was an impressive piece of work at Serendipity Theatre in 2003. She's the kind of emerging Chicago writer who wisely writes about what she knows, but who could also use a challenging commission that would stretch her wings. Still, "Delores Dogan" is a simple piece with modest ambitions but plenty of fun, truth and genuine heart. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Emily Churchill, the likable and engaging Chicago actress performing this show in rented digs at the Strawdog Theatre, has solved some but by no means all the challenges of the role.

Physically, Churchill has Delores down cold and her cavorting around the bedroom to the song stylings of the Bangles is funny and adroitly observed. You also believe much of her palpable pain and social uncertainty.

But Churchill needed to do a lot more work on the text. So far, she hasn't figured out the punch lines, nor has she shaped or honed the comic and dramatic rhythms of the verbal aspects of a play that is entirely monologic.

These problems are amplifed by other muddiness in Adam Belcuore's production. The recorded voices of the other characters beyond the bedroom door are — unforgivably — hard to discern. And other elements of the play's physical production are rough-and-ready, indeed. Moreover, the show has a raft of awkward pauses and uncertainty, when it needs a more cohesive creative flow.

Delores Dogan might be an ordinary young woman — that's Shaughnessy's point, really — but she'll only work to maximum potential in the theater if handled with a lot more care.

cjones5@tribune.com