Photo by Tom Wallace Photography
We have all had them: those luminous college professors we swear we will stay in touch with forever because they forged the adults we became—and then life gets in the way, and we do not. Onstage now through November 29 at the intimate Playhouse Theatre within the Chanhassen Dinner Theatres complex, “Tuesdays with Morrie” confronts that universal quiet guilt head-on. Adapted by Mitch Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher from Albom’s bestselling memoir, the two-hander chronicles the real-life reunion between an ambitious, career-consumed sports journalist and his former Brandeis sociology mentor, Morrie Schwartz, who is living out his final months with ALS. What begins as a single, hesitant visit stretches into an extraordinary weekly masterclass on living, dying, and radical honesty.
Hatcher and Albom’s stage adaptation is an inherently theatrical construction, tasking the actors with constantly pivoting between living out raw scenes and stepping forward as reflective narrators. At times this device is piercingly poignant; at other moments, the sudden shifts feel slightly jolting and emotionally disruptive.
Ryan London Levin steps into Mitch’s shoes, fresh off his work in the brilliant production of “Indecent” at Theater Latté Da. Seeing Levin’s name in any Twin Cities program immediately assures you that the evening rests in supremely capable hands. As Albom, Levin guides us from an idealistic, piano-playing undergrad to a relentlessly driven, workaholic whose interior life has grown numb. Levin leans into a specific, awkward confidence that humanizes the character; he makes Mitch’s initial emotional clumsiness deeply sympathetic rather than merely cynical.
Making a remarkable Chanhassen debut as Morrie Schwartz, Gabriele Angieri is the teacher, confidant, and spirit guide we all wish occupied our classrooms. Angieri brings a radiant lightness to the part, embodying a life thoroughly savored and an impending death genuinely not feared.
A chamber piece of this nature succeeds solely on the kinetic chemistry between its players, and these two connect with breathtaking authenticity. Male friendships in everyday life are often complicated, guarded rituals, but to watch one develop, drift into neglect, and blossom anew under the shadow of a ticking clock is moving. Navigating razor-sharp humor alongside quiet terror, Levin and Angieri achieve an effortless balance possible only through mutual trust. I offer preemptive condolences to the CDT laundry staff, who must contend with dozens of tear-soaked cloth napkins every night.
At times, my mind drifted from the stage to confront Morrie’s probing questions about success, forgiveness, and regret. Yet that is precisely what exceptional theater in skilled hands achieves: it grants us permission to breathe, pause, and examine our own priorities. It takes perhaps a few minutes for the rhythm and conversational volley between the two men to find its groove, but once they settle in, the dialogue becomes a marvel of storytelling.
Photo by Tom Wallace Photography
Director Serena Brook, a familiar delight to Chanhassen audiences who is currently strutting the mainstage as Miss Hannigan in “Annie,” makes an assured directorial debut. Brook guides her duo with tremendous spatial grace, granting them stillness when the emotion peaks and explosive energy during memory transitions. If this is the nuance she wrings from just two actors, producers should line up to hire her behind the table again.
“Tuesdays with Morrie” inevitably leaves you drafting a quiet inventory of who you must call before mortality chooses for you. While heavy in theme, the evening carries an undeniable optimism, reminding us that we can create enduring beauty even with the cards—or terminal diagnosis—we are dealt. This limited run is essential viewing for the pairing of Levin and Angieri alone.
As the play ends, it leaves us with an inescapable challenge: are you truly at peace with yourself? If you cannot answer in the affirmative, take action. Reconnect with a mentor you neglected, forgive an estranged friend, or be grateful for the new friends you made sitting at the table beside you.
