REVIEW: Spaceman, with [producingbody]

If you're someone particularly interested in stories about astronauts finding themselves isolated in space that also inexplicably feature impressive feats of puppetry, then my guess is you're having a pretty stellar 2026. Alongside the big-budget crowd-pleasing of the film PROJECT HAIL MARY, we now have Spaceman, written by Leegrid Stevens, directed by Eric Slater, making its Chicago premiere with [producingbody] in the Edge Off Broadway's remarkably intimate atmosphere. Does it say something about our current moment that audiences are desperately eager to escape their troubles by traveling lightyears away? You be the judge!

I'm a big fan of the general structure and ethos of [producingbody], a team of artists that functions more like a band than a traditional theater company. They typically only produce one play a year, seemingly whenever an artistic impulse strikes rather than at the whims and needs of a strict organizational calendar. It signals a sense of intentionality in the work they look to produce, which I support wholeheartedly in a world where quantity can often take precedence over quality. I greatly admired the company's debut production of 4.48 Psychosis (a play that seems to never go away), and their oscillation between classic avant garde playwrights (Sarah Kane, Charles Mee) and contemporary artists (Hannah Kime, Leegrid Stevens) provides a sense of variety in their programming that keeps things fresh from year to year.

It's easy, then, to sense why Spaceman seemed like such a fascinating draw for [producingbody]; Stevens' solo play, a rumination on the effects of fear and isolation taking place up in the grand nothingness of the universe, presents a daring and fascinating challenge to embark on in a theatrical space, not to mention the creativity required to explore this expansive setting with such limited resources; Spaceman requires all of one performer, one puppeteer, and however much costuming and set-dressing the team feels they need to convey their desired level of space verisimilitude.

The production values of Spaceman are particularly noteworthy and laudatory; in collaboration, Taylor Dalton (sets, costumes, props), Garrett Bell (lights), and Angela Joy Baldasare (sound) create a small-scale epic within a single chair, a computer module, and a vast empty blackness that is a thrill to live in for the show's runtime. In addition, Allie Torres gives remarkable life to the show's use of puppetry to convey anti-gravity, using the simplicity of theatrical motion to make objects of all shapes and sizes float before our very eyes.

The more astute among you may have noticed that, amidst all of this front-loading about the positives of [producingbody] and the joys of Spaceman's technical aspects, I've yet to touch upon the specifics of Stevens' script, and have entirely failed to mention the show's solo performer in question; Ashley Neal, playing astronaut Molly Jennis. I will have to admit that I found Stevens' play less than compelling, his dialogue far too direct and literal for my taste, and the play's attempts at ambiguity and poetics failed by a script that's far too dry and boilerplate. As interesting as some of the larger thematic elements of Spaceman are, they've been tackled in far more interesting ways elsewhere, and Stevens doesn't really find a fresh perspective on the loneliness of space exploration.

I've greatly enjoyed Neal in previous stage work (most notably her Will Arbery double-header of Plano and Evanston Salt Costs Climbing, both over at First Floor Theater), but I sadly found her specific mode of performance here incompatible with Stevens' text. As an actor, Neal - her focused gaze and physicality anchoring an Amy Sedaris-esque tenor of voice - thrives in heightened realms of theatricality, often providing a wide range of imaginative and spirited performances. Her talents, then, are entirely hampered by the realistic dramatic tone being attempted here, leaving us with little to hang onto for the evening.

My biggest issue, though, is a simple one that arrives early on; I simply didn't believe the mania of isolation that we're told Jennis is suffering from. This could be a combination of poor structure in Stevens' script, poor pacing in Slater's production, poor delivery on Neal's part, or perhaps even some deadly combination of all three. But when you're watching what is essentially a solo performance, every facet of that actor and what they're going through is going to fall under scrutiny, and the showing will always come before the telling. Belief in the world we've been given is all we've got.

Much has been made of this production's decision to have audience members turn their phones fully off and lock them away in Yondr pouches before they enter the space, a way of truly getting us to focus our attention on the communal experience we're about to have. It's a daring and worthwhile proposition from a daring and worthwhile company, producing what is, in my mind, something of a misfire of a play. As ever, I look forward to [producingbody]'s future, where - just like the technical elements on display here - the stars will all fully align.

Spaceman runs an estimated 100 minutes with no intermission, and performs at The Edge Off Broadway (1133 W. Catalpa) through June 13th 2026. Tickets are available HERE.