Brian Plocharczyk Photo by Steve Graue

Pracht's third installment of the trilogy is extremely well done. Without ever losing sight of the cultural moments that influence the company as it morphs and eventually finds its identity, this is certainly the story of Lee and Kirby (or Kirby and Lee). Pracht also never gives in to the urge to either lionize or vilify either man, at least not entirely. Moreover, by cannily featuring Roz Kirby and Joan Lee prominently, not only does Pracht break out of a "No Girls Allowed" trap, by including their perspectives, he also avoids telling a watered-down "both sides" tale, as each woman ferociously advises and advocates for her husband.

G. "Max" Maxin IV's scenic, lighting, and projection design do an excellent job of grounding the production. Set on an angle to the audience, the set's walls are plastered with black-and-white Marvel art. Most of the images are small, overlapping, and meant to be recognized rather than seen in detail, yet the faces of Thor, Doctor Doom, and early Iron Man loom slightly larger at exactly the right spacing to suggest the sheer volume of work Kirby and Lee produced, not all of it especially memorable.

Set between the two entrances onto the stage, the projection screen establishes the when and where of scenes that stretch from France in 1944 to Thousand Oaks, California, in the 1980s. When Pracht's "Observer" takes the stage to provide narration, Maxin's lighting and projections suggest the beloved, if slightly cheesy, space-scapes dear to the heart of fandom, assisted in this by Peter Wahlbäck's sound design and composition.

Beth Laske-Miler's costumes are outstanding. They not only convey the passage of time (though they certainly do that admirably), but they communicate the ways in which class, aspiration, and differing kinds of ambition twist their way through the story. Laske-Miller's bellwether character is Stan Lee's status-fixated, British-born wife Joan, and every item of hers is perfectly chosen. But just as impressive are the comparatively subtler but important character work Laske-Miller achieves for the play's men.

As Lee and Kirby, Bryan Breau and Brian Plocharczyk, respectively, are compelling both individually and, as they must be, in playing off one another. Plocharczyk sells the Lower East Side hothead vibe with ease, but is equally convincing and touching as a devoted and ever-worried father of four and the charmer who not only caught Roz's eye, but deserves her as his champion. Breau is both slicker and brasher, yet simultaneously less self-assured, particularly when not actively playing to an audience. And importantly, this duality extends to his relationship with Joan, as the two seem both mismatched yet convincing as partners.

As good as Breau and Plocharczyk are, their characters are deepened and their performances are made better still by Carrie Hardin (Roz) and Kate Black-Spence (Joan). It's true that these women are inevitably backgrounded in a story that is both literally and mythologically male-centric, but both Hardin and Black-Spence play both their comedic and dramatic beats with great skill and steer well clear of any kind of caricature or stereotype.

As Martin Goodman, the head of Timely, then Atlas, and ultimately Marvel comics, Brian Parry also turns in a performance that brings what could be a cardboard cutout to life. Although his main role is, of course, to jerk Lee and Kirby around as the winds of business shift, Parry manages to make the character a believable individual man of a certain time and place.

Jimmy Hogan, similarly, infuses real-life energy into multiple roles, including Joe Simon and later Stan Goldberg. In contrast, but equally effectively, Megan Clarke is larger than life as entertainment reporter Greer Grant, but charmingly grounded as Flo Steinberg in the Marvel offices. The same is true of Sean Harklerode and Chad Wise in multiple roles that both intersect with Kirby and Lee in the real world and invite the audience to process their latter-day mythology.

As the Observer, Ben Veatch has exactly the right level of winking gravitas to carry off a role that is important to the efficient and engaging storytelling. And having Veatch occasionally enter the story, his otherworldly amulet visible, to advance the story, and ultimately to play the fan who takes the final iconic picture of Kirby and Lee at a con, works remarkably well to remind the audience that they, and Pracht, and anyone who dips into these events is as much a maker of myth as a recorder of history.

The House of Ideas runs through October 6, 2024, at City Lit Theater, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit www.citylit.org or call 773-293-3682.