SUCKING FACE

Chemistry, comedy, and a little bloodlust
make for an irresistible evening.

Is there a quality more indefinable and unpredictable than the chemistry between two people, whether in real life or on stage or screen? It cannot be predicted by mien, talent, or secondary sexual characteristics. It’s either there or it isn’t. And in that most hoary of genres—the romantic comedy—its absence is a death knell that no script or directorial sleight of hand can overcome. How fortunate then for Lookingglass Theatre that the cast of Untitled Vampire Play, the closing production of its 2025/2026 season, has oodles of chemistry, and then some.

This thoroughly entertaining world premiere from writer Kevin Douglas opens in the present day in a middle-class household in an unspecified part of Chicago—given the multiple references to the Viagra Triangle, I suspect it’s somewhere on the Near North Side—where a young man, Dom (Jordan Anthony Arredondo), is telling his parents Louie (Kareem Bandealy) and Alicia (Cynthia Kaye McWilliams) that he has found the love of his life in Val (Courtney Rikki Green). He’d like his parents to meet her and wants to invite her to dinner. Oh, and by the way, there’s just one teeny tiny detail, he adds:

Val is a vampire.

Alyssa Mohn’s set design keeps it simple, but striking. The city skyline is represented in stylized lines of neon blue and white, tilting towards the façade of a gothic two-flat in the center—this is where Val and her progeny Rose (Jin Park) live. They sleep in coffins that rise up from the stage and recede when need be, and they feed on bags of blood acquired by more sanguine (pun intended) means than hunting down live prey.

Into this carefully maintained equilibrium comes Roderick (a scene-stealing Walter Briggs), a prodigal son of Val’s—in a manner of speaking—and also her former lover. Roderick is a full-blown sociopath. He is also charming, witty, and adept at getting his way. He immediately disrupts Val’s carefully ordered unlife, throwing another wrench into the complications of her relationship. See, Val is seeking a “forever mate,” but Dom doesn’t want to be turned, ever. He still wants to marry her though. Val doesn’t see the point of getting married only to watch her lover eventually die of old age.

Ah, young love.

I mean, one of them is technically hundreds of years old, but still.

And all the while, there is a serial killer on the loose. Dead bodies have been popping up in the Viagra Triangle, and Alicia, who is a detective, has to contend with finding the killer even while her son’s romantic escapades drive her to distraction.

The romantic comedy-horror hybrid has been increasing in popularity over the last decade or so, especially in indie land. It makes sense in a way. Of all the different genres, they are the most beholden to tropes. Throw in the romanticism inherent in the vampire mythos and all this comes together with surprising ease.

The cast is splendid across the board but, going back to my opening statement, what really makes this show sing is how beautifully all the different pairings sync up. This isn’t really a true ensemble—except for one hilarious dinner scene, the different groups don’t share that much time together on stage—but the chemistry between the actors, whether romantic, sexual, spousal, filial, and even incestuous, is incredible. Bandealy, whose dialog is 90% dad jokes, is an immensely appealing and charming actor, and McWilliams’ dry, sarcastic mom is his perfect counterpart. Arredondo and Rikki Green are very convincing in their love (and lust) for each other, as are Green and Park in their quasi-mother-daughter relationship. And dancing—literally at one point—through it all is Briggs, sprinkling venom, wit, and chaos wherever and whenever it suits him, and in a British accent to boot. The show has a number of fairly severe tonal shifts and for those to work we have to believe in the characters, and these actors are more than up to the task.

Director Devon DeMayo is adept at juggling the horror and comic angles of the story. She gets a great deal of help from Jason Lynch’s lighting design and Andre Pluess’s sound design. There are several gorgeous frames using a single shifting spot on a trenchcoat-clad Roderick—costumes are by Theresa Ham—that recall classic film noir stills as well as the expressionist angles of Murnau and Lang. The direction is assured enough that none of the tonal shifts seem abrupt, including the final transition from comedy to tragedy.

Douglas’s script is very self-aware and witty, teeming with jokes both obvious and geeky—I snorted at Van Helsing’s middle name. It isn’t even just the jokes. There are lots of little sight gags—the Harlequin-patterned lining of Rose’s coffin, for example, or her cut-off T-shirt. The cheekiness extends to the music choices during intermission, which include songs from Vampire Weekend, Tame Impala (“Dracula,” natch), and The Smiths—guess which one. It’s all just marvelous.

Save for a delightful bit of obscure vampiric lore, there is nothing in Untitled Vampire Play that will be new to the viewer. It’s a genre piece through and through and touches all the points required by both genres, eschewing only the meet-cute of the rom-com. The progression of the story up to and including the end is predictable. But what makes it special is how well it does everything that it sets out to do. There isn’t a wasted moment. Every scene hits exactly as intended. Every performance is perfectly calibrated. And every joke and emotional moment lands.

That’s a rare, rare feat.

I only have one complaint: what the hell was Douglas thinking with that boring-ass title? Did he run out of inspiration in the end?

In the words of Comic Book Guy: “Worst. Title. Ever.”

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photos by Justin Barbin Photography

Untitled Vampire Play
Lookingglass Theatre Company
Joan and Paul Theatre at Water Tower Water Works, 163 E. Pearson St. in Chicago
2 hours with intermission
Tues–Sun at 7:30; Thurs, Sat & Sun at 2; check for exceptions
ends on July 12, 2026
for tickets (starting at $33), call 312.337.0665 or visit Lookingglass

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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