Kaylah Marie Crosby (front, center) with Cat Christmas, Emily Holland, Mollyanne Nunn, and Spencer Diaz Tootle Photo by David Hagen

The plot revolves around pop star Ramona Rogers' looming "Defamation" tour. With twenty-four hours to launch, Ramona learns that Paula, her assistant, best friend, and handler, is planning to make a clean break from their entangled relationship to head for grad school to pursue her own dreams of being a director. Desperate, Ramona hooks Paula back in claiming that a sex tape of her is about to drop, ruining everything for the star whose manufactured image rests on a well-known blend of sex and innocence.

Life imitates (invented) art as the tour's behind-the-scenes documentary captures hate sex between Ramona and her choreographer, Simon, who happens to be not only dating Paula, but intent on "rescuing" her from Ramona's privileged, problematic clutches. The play climaxes with Paula rejecting them both and charting her own path, fueled by legitimate anger and well-earned cynicism. Gelfman closes with an epilogue suggesting that the hopeless cycle of patriarchy, misogyny, and internalized misogyny rolls on, decades later.

Although that synopsis sounds somewhat dour and pedantic, rest assured that Gelfman's exploration of toxic and seemingly intractable aspects of popular culture is embedded in fun-filled, pop-tastic goodness, aided by an excellent design team.

Tianxuan Chen's scenic design envelops the audience in room-sized images of a pouting, air-brushed Ramona in a tank top and jeans, evocative of Brooke Shields' iconic Calvin Klein ads. Chen's set combines with Seojung Jang's lighting, Newt Schottelkotte's sound design (Schottelkotte is also credited with the marvelously hooky original composition), and Angelíca Grace's choreography to layer the incoherent (yet all-too-plausible) aliens-meet-"I-Dream-of-Jeannie" tour theme on top of this, creating an effect that is equal parts delightfully absurd and terribly depressing.

The mirrored floors reflect the strips of white lights that create right angles and frame Ramona's air-brushed image, so that as the scenes change, the audience is reminded that we are viewing her and everyone involved through the lens of an intimacy-manufacturing camera. Stretching from wing to wing along the upstage wall is a metal lighting rig that underscores this message, creating the familiar red "REC" to remind us that the documentary cameras rarely stop rolling. To underscore that particular point, Schottelkotte creates a sound effect that is both familiar and jarring on the rare instances when Ramona succeeds in demanding (however temporarily) that they do.

The costume design by Ben Argenta Kress also plays a critical role in communicating the dynamics and struggles, both overt and covert, that run through the play. The dancers struggle to breathe in confining corsets, to display their skill despite booty shorts, tit windows, and 1950s-worthy robot helmets. Elements of Ramona's tear-away costume are legitimately impossible to manage without a dresser. This creates an effective, impossible moment in which she stands, passive and helpless, with her arms extended to either side, waiting for Paula, a Black woman, to manage it for her. The dramatic beat, which lasts exactly as long as it should, taps into the unmissable historical reference, yet illustrates how Ramona has learned to to live as an object. And Simon ... well, Simon has pockets.

There are occasional stumbles in the text. Although Gelfman should be commended for her effective, economical storytelling (as should Gunter for deft execution of vision), the seams are occasionally visible in the plot. The epilogue, in particular, doesn't quite read as clearly as it likely needs to, at least in this production, where it is not immediately clear that the actors portraying Ramona and Simon have shifted into other roles in the later time period. But on the whole, the achievement is remarkable.

As Paula, Kaylah Marie Crosby is perfectly frustrating, perfectly realistic, and perfectly sympathetic, in equal measure. She sells her character's competence and strong sense of self, despite Ramona's tendency to devour and Simon's desire to control her. Each time she falls for another character's machinations, Crosby conveys a clear and honest path to the decision. The audience empathizes with, grows frustrated with, but never pities her.

As Ramona, Emily Holland also offers a strong performance. The writing for her child-like petulance is, perhaps, not quite as nuanced as it might be, yet Holland elevates a few rough spots and revels in the opportunity to be utterly bratty that the play provides.

William Anthony Sebastian Rose II has ample charisma as Simon, and in many ways, this character is among Gelfman's most successful and maddening. He and Crosby do good, subtle work together as they spar over art, Blackness, and ambition. He and Holland, likewise, spark somewhat sickeningly (which is absolutely appropriate to the situation) off one another as they rehearse Ramona's choreography, fight rather viciously over Paula, and ultimately cross the line with one another, and not for the first time.

In supporting roles as Ramona's dancers, Cat Christmas (Tish), Spencer Diaz Tootle (Randy), and Mollyanne Nunn (Kylie) both provide and transcend comic relief.

the love object, a Story Theatre production, runs through November 3, 2024, at Raven Theatre, Schwartz Stage, 6157 N. Clark St., Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit thestorytheatre.org or call 773-338-2177.