A DELICATE CHAMBER PIECE
THAT WILL BREAK YOUR HEART

One of the advantages of a small performance space is that, in the right hands, one can set the mood even before the play has begun. In the Chicago premiere of Anna Ouyang Moench’s Birds of North America, the seating area at A Red Orchid Theatre has been reconfigured by set designer Morgan Laszlo so that viewers are in the backyard of a house, crossing the worn deck and passing by a screened in back-porch to get to their seats. On either side of the audience, autumnal foliage peeks over a battered picket fence; in the yard, straggling tomato plants push out the last crop of the year. Pastoral-adjacent melodies from Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens fill the air, and Seojung Jang’s gorgeous lighting gently softens, evoking a crepuscular hour. By the time John and his oldest child Caitlyn step out into the yard, binoculars around their necks, we’re so attuned to the moment, that we can already sense the tension reverberating in their silence.

John (John Judd) is a clinician, who thanks to the sacrifices of his wife, gave up his high-paying job twenty years ago to devote himself full time to research. A die-hard liberal with a rigid moral compass, his only hobby is birding, and he pursues it with a level of discipline and exactitude more suited to his vaccine research. Caitlyn (Cassidy Slaughter-Mason), in her late twenties at the start of the play, is an aspiring novelist who pays the bills by copy-editing for a right-wing website, a fact that enrages her father to no end.

Birds Of North America follows these two people over several decades, tracking the events unfolding in their lives; events that are inevitably letdowns. Caitlyn desperately tries to form some connection with her father at each meeting only to hold back almost every time as she fears his disappointment. What gives Birds an especially sharp sting is that she is not incorrect. John is disappointed. Not just with her life and choices, but with everything in his life and the world, save the birds.

Moench makes incredible use of the space between words. Very little of portent is spoken outright. The passage of time is indicated by stray references to boyfriends, jobs, trips to be taken (or not). At no point does she stray from a conversational tone. Even Caitlyn’s big monologue about her miscarriage is underplayed, which only makes it that much more wrenching. But in that plainspoken dialogue the actors achieve a naturalism that is lyrical, transcendent even.

Kirsten Fitzgerald—a fine, fine actor in her own right—directs with nuance and sensitivity, framing the characters almost rigidly apart from each other so that when they attempt to connect, they’re forced to cross each other’s boundaries both physically and emotionally. She also wisely gets out of the way of her actors. There’s an interesting contradiction in the progression of the performances: John Judd, in an exquisitely laconic turn, imbues his character with masses of charm and dry wit. Undercutting the mulishness of the character with his relaxed delivery, his inflexibility only becomes apparent as the play moves on. He is a man who is so sure of himself and so oblivious of his entitlement that he seems incapable of seeing things from any other perspective. His occasional tone-deaf attempts—-reaching maximum cringe in the miscarriage scene—to comfort her are softened by the intentions behind them. John loves his daughter, and wants to support and comfort her, he just doesn’t know how.

In contrast, Cassidy Slaughter-Mason’s Caitlyn is all raw nerves and need for approval but her willingness to adapt and adjust speaks to a strength of personality that is lacking in her upright father. There are some lovely moments of bonding that hint at the idea that Caitlyn was her father’s favorite child. A status that only deepens the rift between them as adults.

Both actors are flawless, turning in deeply felt, brutally unsentimental performances that cut deep.

Birds of North America is not so much about parent-child connection as it is about how parents and children see each other as adults. Both John and Caitlyn seem incapable of understanding each other’s choices in life, assigning value judgements that are likely incorrect on both parts. Judgements that increase in severity as they age, until one day they just give up.

Sometimes, it’s easier to convince one’s self that a life lived was a happy one.

Sometimes that’s enough.

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photos by Evan Hanover

Birds of North America
A Red Orchid Theatre, 1531 N. Wells St. in Chicago’s Old Town neighborhood
90 minutes, no intermission
Thurs-Sat at 7; Sat & Sun at 3
ends on February 22, 2026 EXTENDED to March 15, 2026
for tickets ($55), call 312.943.8722 or visit A Red Orchid

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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