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Los Angeles Times calls The Little Foxes “stunning.” Full review here.
Read RedEye Chicago feature "Revolution Scoop: Who's that behind the red door?"
Antaeus’ revival [of ‘The Little Foxes’] stars Deborah Puette, a local critics’ darling with a compelling combination of fragility and steel...[Puette is] wonderful as this divine, despicable anti-heroine...
It’s Puette who steals the show. She enters every scene with an invisible leopard on a leash, a Hepburn-esque heroine who knows what’s good for her but can’t bear to admit it.
Puette’s sad and riveting performance in the difficult lead role is the most striking acting work…her performance is nothing short of extraordinary.
Puette centers the show with her moving portrayal, a nuanced perf of repressed emotion finally finding an outlet. She demonstrates the strength behind Adelaide’s supposed fragility, and makes the contest between these two characters more than equal.
Puette gives a fearless performance: manic, swoony, exposed, acute—a being struggling to break free.
[Puette’s] a stunner with strength, playfulness and vulnerability.
The remarkable lead actress plays in simple strokes and with a pinpoint focus...Puette’s subtle, extraordinary performance adds a realistic complexity.
Deborah Puette, in an exquisitely calibrated performance, brings Alma to life in a series of feints and passes that would put most matadors to shame. It is fascinating to watch an actor nail a character while circling around it.
An amazing cast. Puette is fabulous as the increasingly distressed Julia, quickly regressing from surly petulance to hysterical mania.
Puette is perfection in the role…a heartbreakingly touching, deeply felt, award-caliber performance.
As the spoiled rich girl, Puette gives an excellent performance.
Stunning...In Puette’s Darlene, you can track in the twitch of a lip and the curve of a brow the tug and pull between her pious defiance at what her brother is doing and personal rage that he left Georgia to do so, melting into an affirmation of what he’s become. She’s in a wrestling match with herself, largely depicted in body language, and it’s a fascinating bout to watch.
Remarkably agile, Puette gives an indelible performance.
Puette is nothing if not distilled charm.
Puette signals years of pain with a mere tightening of the lip.
Puette’s tender performance captures a haphazard woman realizing that she’s finally sure of at least one thing.
Puette, a resourceful and intelligent actor, does a superb job. She expertly tunes in to the lifelike cadences of Son’s dialogue, creating a well-rounded portrait.
Deborah Puette, the evening’s stand-out for timing and poise, achieved a unique sense of love first appearing: not taken for granted, or easily felt, but simply waiting for the right moment to enter, unexpected and strong.
Deborah Puette lends a graceful beauty to the Pasha’s first wife Neyime and a gawky grace to Anne Miller.
Puette is heartbreaking.