A FUNNY THING HAPPENED
ON THE WAY TO BAGHDAD:
COMEDY BUMPS INTO HISTORY
TO CREATE A MASTERPIECE
We sometimes forget how much the theatrical stage can be a place of true discovery—until we stumble upon islands of magic like Iraq, But Funny, a marvel now running through July 20. Written by the immensely talented Lookingglass Theatre ensemble member Atra Asdou, this is a mashup of revisionist history and cultural excavation, slathered with heaping doses of irresistible comedy. Asdou doesn’t just write the piece—she also delivers a bravura performance that anchors the show.
Atra Asdou
Beyond Asdou’s undeniable brilliance as a creative force, Iraq, But Funny is the result of many elements aligning to bring this sensation to life. Asdou has shared that the project’s “seedling” first took root several years ago, when she and others closely connected to Lookingglass Theatre were invited to pitch ideas for new plays. She seized the opportunity to tell the kinds of stories she grew up hearing—stories that explore how the sweeping tides of history in her family’s homeland have rippled across generations.
Atra Asdou
Of Assyrian heritage—an ancient and indigenous people originating in what is now Iraq—Asdou is keenly aware of the narrow understanding most people have of the region and its diverse communities. Iraq, But Funny is her invitation to widen that lens, offering an authentic and approachable introduction to a people whose humor, expansive worldview, and rich history are too often overlooked, misunderstood, or simply dismissed. Though trained as an actor, Asdou says she’s always been a comedian first, processing life’s mysteries, challenges, and absurdities through the eyes, mind, and reflexes of a comic. That sensibility gave birth to Teg: the mustachioed, pith helmet-wearing, paunchy Englishman who barrels through this whirlwind tour of the cradle of civilization. Played by Asdou herself, Teg’s colossal ego and blissful pomposity make him an unforgettable creation as he blunders his way through a century’s worth of history—from before World War I to the present day.
Atra Asdou
Across that 100-year span, we’re introduced to generation after generation of families modeled after Asdou’s own and those of other Assyrians, who have been forced to endure colonization, expulsion, refugeehood, and genocide—all in the name of power, profit, or both. Teg treats it all with the casual disdain of a complacent, entitled conqueror who sits high and looks low. His mocking contradictions are no accident; they’re designed to obscure the true root causes of the region’s recurring cycles of upheaval. Through Teg’s carefully chosen words and the sharp vitriol laced through his disparagements, it becomes unmistakably clear that his dismissive regard for the colonized is driven by deeply ingrained notions of cultural and racial superiority.
Gloria Imseih Petrelli and Atra Asdou
The outlandish way Teg is drawn and portrayed by Asdou makes him digestible. An eloquent buffoon—at once shrewdly clever and impossibly ridiculous—he’s dangerous precisely because he constantly spews deceptive information. It’s the four actors representing the waves of generations living through the 100 years who, in their own words, take back their stories and reveal lives far more vibrant and complex than what Teg would have us believe. They expose a past that contradicts the dominant narrative of the First World by showing us how history truly unfolded on the ground. Though filled with adversity, it’s a past—and a present—replete with humor, dignity, and courage. When Susaan Jamshidi portrays a mother trying to convince her daughter that “your life is not for you, it’s for the next generation,” you gain a powerful sense of the cultural values and legacy she embodies. Later, we see how that belief is adapted—reshaped by the needs of the times and the will of the individual.
Atra Asdou
The familial interactions, passed from generation to generation in Iraq, But Funny, offer a window into character—and remind us how much human nature remains the same across the globe. Saints and shysters walk the streets of every society, and through Dalia Ashurina’s masterful direction and the ace performances of Jamshidi, Gloria Imseih Perelli, James Rana, and Sina Pooresmaeil, we’re treated to a vivid spectrum of personalities. From a gun-toting, “Call Me Daddy” priest to a shy suitor who proudly prints tasteless, tone-deaf slogans on T-shirts, we meet people we recognize—characters who intrigue, amuse, and occasionally confound us. In the end, they all share one essential drive: to survive, and eventually, to thrive.
James Rana, Sina Pooresmaeil, Gloria Imseih Petrelli and Susaan Jamshidi
The steady flood of sobering information—delivered with sharp insight and wrapped in comedy—combined with Teg’s frequent visual jolts, works brilliantly to upend the way you see the Middle East and its people. What emerges is a portrait illuminated by admiration, curiosity, and hard-earned respect. Live theater rarely gets better than this.
James Rana, Susaan Jamshidi, Gloria Imseih Petrelli and Sina Pooresmaeil
Using projection, a stage that extends and retracts, trap doors in the floor, a boxing ring, and a slew of other visual accoutrement, Omid Akbari’s scenic design is as dynamic as the dialog. And as invigorating as that is, it has a hard time competing with some of Mara Blumenfeld’s wardrobe options for Teg. Outsized egos and flamboyant attire choices often keep company and when the two come together in Teg, it leaves a hilariously indelible impression.
Sina Pooresmaeil and Atra Asdou
The deluge of sober information delivered with savvy insight and coated in comedy, in addition to the not infrequent Teg-centric visual stunners, do the trick in making you look at the Middle East and its people in a whole new light. One that glows with admiration and curiosity as well as respect. Live theater doesn’t get better than this.
Sina Pooresmaeil, James Rana, Gloria Imseih Petrelli and Susaan Jamshidi
photo by Ricardo Adame
Iraq, But Funny
Lookingglass Theatre Company
Water Tower Water Works, 163 E. Pearson St. at Michigan Ave.
two hours and fifteen minutes
ends on July 20, 2025
for tickets ($35-$80), call 312.337.0665 or visit Lookingglass
for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago
