If it was good enough for the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen, it’s surely good enough for the movies. Kill off a parent (too many stories to count), threaten a flapper with sexual assault (early 1930s Boop), quash a young protagonist’s confidence before restoring it (every animated everything, ever): It’s nerve-wracking just thinking about the real-life doubts, fears, crises, all resolved — we hope — just in time.

Pixar’s “Inside Out” (2015) leaned into old, turbulent emotions in a new way, all the way. The story dealt with 11-year-old Riley, a Minnesota girl into hockey, who relocated, uneasily, with her parents to San Francisco. A big move means big challenges for any kid — and any parent. Director Pete Docter and the “Inside Out” screenplay acknowledged Riley’s depression while underscoring her ability to manage it, and flourish. The emotions depicted in the control room of her mind — Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger, Disgust — navigated their increasingly tricky human charge, as well as their own clashing personalities. And people went; it was a hit.

I hope the same for “Inside Out 2,” the engaging sequel that pits the now 13-year-old Riley against new challenges and a tangle of new insecurities. It’s chaotic, sometimes very funny, occasionally wrenching, and at 96 minutes, exactly one minute longer than “Inside Out.”

The human storyline is simple and sure-footed. Riley hits puberty, which hits back as puberty does. She and her besties at school are invited to a summer hockey camp, which bodes well for their self-esteem and their social futures together.

But there are new kids in town, in her mind. Emotion management center honcho Joy (Amy Poehler providing the can-do, no-problem vocal inflections once again) must accommodate these new emotions led, anxiously, by Anxiety (Maya Hawke), along with Envy (Ayo Edebiri), Embarrassment (Paul Walter Hauser) and the très French and consistently witty embodiment of Ennui (Adèle Exarchopoulos, plumbing heretofore unplumbed depths of disaffected disengagement). Nostalgia pops in for a couple of appearances; June Squibb voices her, unerringly.

Riley piles up a stack of rapidly accumulated wince-worthy memories along with many good ones as she ingratiates herself with the cool older girls at the camp. She feels as if she cannot win this phase of her life. How to reconcile one established friend group with a longed-for new and cooler and slightly older one? Gradually, Riley’s innate good-heartedness gets sidelined while new, edgier, arguably meaner personality traits muscle in on the action. Anxiety becomes a huge presence in her summer of emotional riddles, just as it dominates the screenplay by Meg LeFauve (who co-wrote the first “Inside Out”) and Dave Holstein.

Anxiety’s on-screen presence is a lot. Too much? Maybe. How to vary these escalating scenes focused on a character, a feeling, who’s not quite an antagonist, but not a hero? These challenges have been acknowledged by the film’s creatives.

They didn’t solve everything, to be sure. Like most sequels to Pixar’s very good or great films, this one’s sometimes busy to a fault, and little monomaniacal in its pacing. But we’re are a long way here from the mechanical likes of “Monsters University” or “Cars 2.” “Inside Out 2” still feels human-made, and genuinely concerned about how Riley deals with this chapter of her life. The wordplay remains tiptop, as when Joy and company face a dangerous river crossing (memory bubbles substituting for water) known as the Sar-Chasm, which renders everyone’s expressed thoughts, sincere or not, in a jaded, “as if!” tone of adolescent dismissal.

Crucially, Phyllis Smith returns as the measured, morose voice of Sadness, alongside some new voices for familiar characters (Tony Hale in for Bill Hader as Fear; Liza Lapira in for Mindy Kaling as Disgust; Kensington Tallman replacing Kaitlyn Dias as Riley). The new emotions come from the first film’s developmental long list of possibilities. I love how Pixar, at its corporately owned peak, invested millions of dollars in figuring out how to wrangle some peculiar, hard-to-market narratives into workable shape. Even if “Inside Out 2” sometimes favors speed over, well, everything else, it’s gratifying to see an ordinary and, yes, anxious 13-year-old’s life, like millions and millions of lives right now, treated as plenty for a good, solid sequel, and without the dubious dramatics of the first movie’s climax.

What’s happening on the inside can be enough.

“Inside Out 2” — 3 stars (out of 4)

MPA rating: PG (for some thematic elements)

Running time: 1:36

How to watch: Premieres in theaters June 13

Michael Phillips is a Tribune critic.

The crisp edges, soft, tender center, and wholesome, subtly sweet flavor make them not just good, but go back for seconds and wake up 15 minutes early to make these on a weekday good. Enjoy them with a drizzle of maple syrup, switch it up with a dollop of fruit jam, or go for another boost of protein with some Greek yogurt and fresh fruit. There’s a lot to love about this wholesome, family-friendly breakfast that’s as quick and easy to pull off as it is satisfying.

A nonstick pan is the secret to success

You’ll notice the pancakes are slightly thinner and a bit more delicate than traditional pancakes (although not as thin as our 2-ingredient banana pancakes). For this reason, they cook best in a nonstick pan, and I also recommend a thin, flat spatula for easy flipping.

Why you’ll love it

• The batter comes together in under two minutes, with nothing more than a couple of eggs and equal parts whole oats and cottage cheese.
• It all goes in your blender and blitzed just long enough to break down the oats (some chunky pieces are OK) and mix everything together.

Key ingredients in cottage cheese pancakes

• Old-fashioned oats: Also called rolled oats, old-fashioned oats cook faster than steel-cut oats, absorb more liquid, and hold their shape relatively well during cooking.
• Cottage cheese: Cottage cheese has a mild, creamy flavor profile that works well here.
• Eggs: You’ll need 2 large eggs.

What to serve with cottage cheese pancakes

• Oven-Cooked Bacon
• Honey Butter
• Blueberry Compote
• Apple Cider Syrup
• Strawberry Honey Butter
• Red Fruit Salad with Lemon-Vanilla Bean Syrup

3-Ingredient Cottage Cheese Pancakes

Serves 2; makes 8 (3-inch) pancakes

1/2 cup old-fashioned oats

1/2 cup cottage cheese

2 large eggs

1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

Maple syrup, jam or sliced berries, for serving

1. Place 1/2 cup old-fashioned oats, 1/2 cup cottage cheese, 2 large eggs, and 1/8 teaspoon kosher salt in a blender and process on high speed until well-combined, about 30 seconds.

2. Heat a large nonstick frying pan over medium heat. Working in batches, add the batter in 2-tablespoon portions, spacing them evenly apart. Cook until the pancakes are set around the edges and deep golden-brown on the bottom, 2 to 3 minutes (this batter won’t bubble up like traditional pancake batter). Gently flip the pancakes with a thin spatula and cook until the second side is golden-brown, 1 to 2 minutes more. Transfer to a plate.

3. Repeat cooking the remaining batter. These pancakes are best when eaten fresh off the griddle and still warm. Serve with maple syrup, honey or jam.

Recipe note: Leftovers can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to five days.

(Kelli Foster is the senior contributing food editor for TheKitchn.com, a nationally known blog for people who love food and home cooking. Submit any comments or questions to editorial@thekitchn.com.)

©2024 Apartment Therapy. Distributed by Tribune Content AGency, LLC.

The three-day music festival is moving to Bridgeview, running Sept. 20-22 at SeatGeek Stadium, 7000 S. Harlem Ave. Tickets (2-DAY and 3-DAY) are on sale at 11 a.m. Wednesday at riotfest.org.

Other bands and performers include Michael C. Hall with his band Princess Goes, Spoon, Manchester Orchestra (performing their 2014 album “Cope”), Oliver Tree, Sum 41, Cypress Hill, Waxahatchee, New Found Glory, Something Corporate, Tierra Whack, Taking Back Sunday, Lamb of God, Mastodon (performing “Leviathan”), Hot Mulligan, Beach Bunny, The Hives, Suicidal Tendencies, L.S. Dunes, Basement, State Champs, Poison the Well, Gwar, Clutch, Rival Sons, Health, Descendents, Circle Jerks, Pennywise, The Lawrence Arms, Face to Face, Buzzcocks, Laura Jane Grace with Catbite, Dillinger Four, Lagwagon, The Vandals, All Strung Out, Dead Milkmen, D.O.A., The Dickies, Codefendants, Cobra Skulls, Swingin’ Utters, The Defiant, The Exploited, Urethane, Get Dead and Doomscroll. The full lineup includes some 90 bands.

The Riot Fest 2024 Lineup is here.
2-DAY + 3-DAY Tickets on sale now. https://t.co/y6Es7qgAmd pic.twitter.com/ym2sTc0vC0

— Riot Fest (@RiotFest) June 12, 2024

The announcement of the move Wednesday dubbed the new location RiotLand, and came after a social media statement from Riot Fest founder Mike Petryshyn late Tuesday that the annual three-day music festival would no longer be held in Douglass Park in the North Lawndale neighborhood. Riot Fest had been held there since 2015, before that in Humboldt Park since 2012.

Before Riot Fest’s move, the annual Summer Smash music festival of hip hop relocated in 2023 from Douglass Park to SeatGeek Stadium, with this year’s Summer Smash taking place there this coming weekend.

Riot Fest to leave Douglass Park following years of community tension, founder says

Petryshyn said the Chicago Park District was “solely” responsible for the festival’s move, and thanked Ald. Monique Scott, 24th, for her support of the event. Though Scott said the local community supported Riot Fest, some had criticized it and some other big music events for taking over portions of city parks and fencing them off from the surrounding community.

The SeatGeek Stadium campus, which is owned by the local village of Bridgeview, has hosted other music festivals in the past. Along with the stadium, the location has a number of surrounding sports fields with artificial turf that have been used for stages.

Although it has a large parking lot, the location is some 15 miles southwest of downtown and is not easily accessible by public transportation, requiring a Pace bus transfer from the the Midway Orange Line CTA station. A Getting to RiotLand page on the festival’s website said that information about shuttles was coming soon.

Riot Fest will also include its usual array of food, drink and merchandise vendors, as well as the the Wedding Chapel, vintage arcade games and the Hellzapoppin’ Circus Sideshow Revue. A Q101 Radio Tower is described as “a nostalgic tribute to an iconic radio station.” The Cabaret Metro Stage is named after the Chicago music venue. Riot Fest also promised an NOFX World stage, a skate ramp and an operating casino.

Scott issued a further statement early Wednesday, saying that Park District permission for Riot Fest to remain in Douglass Park had been scheduled for a board meeting Wednesday but the decision had come too late.

She also called community opposition to the festival a “false narrative” and said inequities to the community were a wider problem.

“For the past eight years. Riot Fest has been a cornerstone of positive impact and opportunity in our community. The festival has worked closely with our office. community organizations. and numerous stakeholders to develop a plan that resulted in unprecedented benefits for the local community. Their significant investments in our youth, small businesses and residents have greatly contributed to the well-being and vibrancy of the 24th Ward,” the statement read in part. “My constituents have expressed their concerns about the vast financial inequities that exist in parks located in predominantly Black neighborhoods versus others. Despite the substantial payments made by Riot Fest over the years, local stakeholders believe the promised reinvestment into our community is insufficient.”

dgeorge@chicagotribune.com

Show creator David E. Kelley (who has a long track record with legal dramas, not that you’d know it here) has made a number of changes, none of which deepen the narrative. Instead of being a father to one, Rusty now has kids, plural. Instead of hiring a one-time courtroom foe as his attorney, now his former boss, the recently ousted state’s attorney, is mounting Rusty’s defense. Instead of crime scene photos of the victim fully clothed, the show takes us to the crime scene where the victim is trussed up naked. Even her fertility status (a key piece of evidence in the original) is changed. None of these details improve the story or create a sense of “maybe I don’t know where this is going” for anyone familiar with Turow’s novel or the film.

The 1990 movie came out amid a spate of erotic thrillers premised on a lurid femme fatale archetype, of women who are too sexy for their own good and the men whose lives they destroy, from “Basic Instinct” to “Fatal Attraction” (also recently adapted into a inconsequential TV series for Paramount+). There’s a cringe-worthy moment in the film when the victim’s ex all but blames her for her own murder, recalling a look of disgust she once gave him: “At that moment, I remember I had the most desperate wish that she were dead. Maybe she made a man feel like that who actually acted on that fantasy.”

Then again, at least the movie had lines like this: “They’re so close, you can see (one guy’s) nose sticking out of (the other guy’s) belly button.” Even so, the movie is too long at two hours and there’s nowhere near enough story to fill out a multi-episode TV series. Tangents about corruption in the criminal justice system seem to have evaporated, despite the expanded running time.

Gyllenhaal plays Rusty as unsympathetically as possible, which isn’t a bad choice — he’s a man who made bad choices and now his back is against the wall — but Gyllenhaal’s talents are not suited to this suite of emotions and behaviors, which read mostly as “angry” and “desperate.” Rusty is off the rails, but there’s no ambiguity, and the victim is barely a character (true of the movie as well) but rather an idea upon whom everyone can project their issues.

The script does nobody here any favors, including Ruth Negga as Rusty’s wife, Bill Camp as his boss and protector, and Peter Sarsgaard as an office rival who is all too eager to nail him.

Sarsgaard is usually a terrific actor, but even he can’t make any of this work. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he says, “my name is Tommasino Molto. But I’m from Chicago, like you, so it’s Tommy.” Considering the adaptation has no interest in its Chicago setting, this sudden introduction of a character’s supposed Chicago bonafides is weird. Sweaty, even. “Presumed Sweaty” might have been a more accurate title for the series overall.

“Presumed Innocent” — 1.5 stars (out of 4)

Where to watch: Apple TV+

Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.

For many, the thing to grill is ribs, but most anything will do.

I am not a cook or a grill guy but consider myself something of a rib expert, having eaten plenty (those at Twin Anchors are on top of my current list) and for a few 1980s years served as a judge for the Mike Royko Ribfest, generally acknowledged, by no less an authority than “The Chicago Food Encyclopedia” (University of Illinois Press), to have been “one of the nation’s first large barbeque competitions.” I remember those days fondly, as I wrote a while ago, “the unity, the harmony and the togetherness of them all. There were, side by side, groups from Glencoe and West Pullman, Rosemont and Roseland, Austin and Streeterville — white, Black and brown. There was no anger or violence, no arrests or trouble. If there were arguments, they were about cooking methods or sauces ‘sweet or tangy.’ These were harmonious and hopeful gatherings.”

So, I was talking about grilling with Joe Carlucci, a man I have often consulted in matters of food and drink. His name may be familiar to you because he has had an acclaimed and influential presence on the local scene. He said to me, “You can’t cook, you know?

Carlucci was born and raised in New York. After graduating with a degree in psychology from Pittsburgh’s Duquesne University, he worked in the music business for a few years, saying, “My first day on the job I had to pick up Bette Midler at the airport.”

He came to Chicago in the early ‘80s, began operating eponymous restaurants in the city and suburbs and worked with a couple of Mike Ditka’s joints. He still operates a few places and consults with others, including recently with some of the most popular grill guys in the world. They are the BBQ Pit Boys and this is how he found them about four years ago: “I was watching TV one Saturday morning and on came this guy with a beard being interviewed about grilling,” Carlucci says. “With my background in music I think I have a good ability to judge star quality and the guy I was watching had it.”

He tracked down the man, whose “grill name” is “Bobby Fame” but his real name is actually Bob Ahlgren, the creator of the culinary phenomenon known as BBQ Pit Boys. They talked. They liked one another. They became partners and Carlucci helped facilitate the recent publication of “BBQ Pit Boys Book of Real Guuud Barbecue” (Firefly Books). It is a handsome 256-page, colorful, lively and entertaining book. It is packed with recipes and tips for grilling and smoking a variety of meats, as well as sides and desserts. All the usual suspects are here, such as pulled pork, ribs and chicken wings. There are also recipes for alligator, lamb and venison. There’s fish, soups and sides. There’s a lot.

It also gives you the BBQ Pit Boys origin story, which Ahlgren told me over the phone a few days ago. “Well, I ran a small publishing company and was a serious antique dealer,” he says. “When YouTube first started around 2007, I thought it might be a good thing to spread the word about my business. Then a friend of mine from California wanted to get a recipe for something I grilled for him when he was visiting. I thought it would be fun to do that as a video and I posted it for him on YouTube.”

YouTube called him, asked him to become a partner and shipped him thousands of dollars worth of cameras and other equipment. They also sent him a check for $32.

That was long ago and the checks have gotten larger. The BBQ Pit Boys is now an international fraternal order, with some 18,000 international chapters and 230,000 pitmasters, according to the book. Episodes are posted every week and they have been viewed more than 94 million times.

The nature of the show hasn’t really changed. It’s still a group of guys around a grill, drinking and making food. Ahlgren is the host, affable and amiable and, as he says, “making sure we don’t take ourselves too seriously.”

The enterprise is based not in Tennessee or Arkansas, as the boys’ outfits might suggest, but rather in Connecticut. In addition to YouTube, the Pit Boys are now spread across the other prominent social media platforms such as Facebook, X and Instgram. They have 2.2 million YouTube subscribers, are in the top 5% of all YouTube channels and are number one when it comes to BBQ.

Not surprisingly, Ahlgren has been approached “more than ten times by network producers about doing shows for them,” he says. “But I have rejected them all. They talk about how they can make me famous but I am already famous and I don’t want to be part of fake TV, become part of the reality show world.  And I never want to lose control of the content and the way we deliver it.”

This was never intended to be a star-making vehicle. The focus is on the food and that’s one reason why Ahlgren and his pals wear sunglasses and cowboy hats that cover most of their faces. That aversion to the seductions of the mainstream entertainment business appeals to Carlucci, and to another food person who is also a partner with the Pit Boys. Ed Rensi is a former president and CEO of McDonald’s and he and Carlucci are intent on exploring all manner of opportunities.

“Bob and his pit boys have such a broad platform and the ability to reach so many people,” says Carlucci. “But we are going to be true to the spirit of the show and of the people. They never had a business plan. This is just a great fun idea that has blossomed into a wonderful enterprise.”

He tells me that a Pit Boys line of sauces and rubs is currently available in 3,000 stores across Canada, and a Pit Boys beer can be had in Texas. The website offers all manner of official merchandise.

Then he asked me which of the book’s recipes I was thinking of tackling.

“You can’t cook, you know?” he said.

“Yes,” I told him. “That’s why I’m going to try the Cigar Ash BBQ Sauce (page 233) or Bacon Oreo BBQ Cookies (page 255).”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Joey “Jaws” Chestnut, 40, has been competing since 2005 and hasn’t lost since 2015. At last year’s Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July hot dog eating contest he downed 62 franks and buns in 10 minutes.

But Major League Eating event organizer George Shea says Chestnut is moving away from the contest due to a contract dispute.

“We love him, the fans love him,” Shea said, adding that “He made the choice.”

Shea says Chestnut struck a deal with a competing brand — a red line for the Nathan’s-sponsored event — but did not elaborate. He said the dispute came down to exclusivity, not money.

“It would be like Michael Jordan saying to Nike, ‘I’m going to represent Adidas, too,’” Shea said.

Chestnut did not immediately respond to a request for comment made through his website.

Chestnut has long dominated the competition. Those vying for second place in the past might have renewed hope to swallow their way to first place this year, including international competitors on the eating circuit.

Last year’s 2nd place winner was Geoffrey Esper from Oxford, Massachusetts, who downed 49 dogs. Third place went to Australia’s James Webb with 47. That was far from Chestnut’s best effort: his record was 76 Nathan’s Famous hot dogs and buns in 10 minutes in 2021.

In 2010, Japanese eating champion Takeru Kobayashi, Chestnut’s then-rival, also stopped competing in the annual bun fight due to a contract dispute with Major League Eating. Kobayashi crashed the contest in a T-shirt reading “Free Kobi” and was arrested. He was sentenced to 6 months’ probation. Kobayashi announced his retirement from the sport last month.

Albeit, music that buzzes and whines, thrums and fizzes. Music that crackles and pulses, rustles and hums like an industrial fan set too high. Music that clomps along with a rhythmic ththththththth, and a wooawhoowooa whoowooawhoo, and sometimes an Eee….erer Eee…erer Eee…erer. Music goes WEEEooo WEEEooo and sounds like a metal sheet in the wind.

That may not sound like music to many of you, but know that in the South, there have been news reports recently of residents calling 911 to complain about the incessant shrill of the cicadas. And that is exactly how a lot of people react to loud, discordant sounds that they don’t understand.

Also known as … music.

But this, you can’t dance to, and there is no melody nor lyrics.

Unless you count the word “pharaoh,” which some say is the sound of the cicadas. “You just can’t hear the tail end of the word, so it all blends together into a wave of ‘pharaohs,’ ” said David Rothenberg, a professor of philosophy at the New Jersey Institute of Technology who has a side gig as an experimental musician. He likes to collaborate with nature. Mockingbirds, whales. He’s arriving in Chicago on Wednesday to spend a week jamming with midwestern cicadas in public parks and open fields. He began playing with Illinois insects — him on clarinets and flutes, them on their buggy anatomy — about 13 years ago, and returns whenever a cicada brood emerges.

As collaborators, cicadas are patient, he said.

They don’t fly away. “It’s actually humbling,” he said. “You become one musician among millions, billions. You are one more sound. You fade into their drone. A lot of people think it’s ridiculous, of course, but I always think it’s good for a musician to recognize they are not the center of attention. People will say that this is not music, but then someone else is completely moved by the sound.”

Rothenberg even regards the 13- and 17-year sleep of cicadas as making a form of music, “if you think of it as being performed at a very slow rhythm.” Or, perhaps, as cicadas covering composer John Cage, whose famous piece, “4’33”,” was the long silence and incidental environmental sounds that came from just sitting in front an audience for four minutes and 33 seconds.

As for me, depending on where I am in the Chicago area these days, I also hear a theremin, that weird electronic instrument that requires its player to wave around their arms like a conductor.

Think: the spooky ethereal whirring of UFOs in 1950s sci-fi.

But sometimes I hear the hypnotic oscillation of the great 1970s punk act Suicide. And when several breeds of cicadas clash at once, I imagine the feedback tsunamis of Sonic Youth and Neil Young‘s Crazy Horse. Or even Lou Reed’s noise rock landmark “Metal Machine Music.” Other times I hear the synth soundtracks of old John Carpenter movies, or Michael Mann’s “Thief,” which blew up the Green Mill lounge in Uptown, arguably, symbolically, dislodging jazz.

You get musical variety with cicadas because different breeds produce different kinds of sounds. The result can be a wall of sound, which is also the name given to the recording style of Phil Spector, the famous producer and convicted murderer, whose 1960s classics came off so crowded with instrumentation it was hard to tell where one player ended and another began.

Cicadas sound like that.

Ryan Dunn, whose longtime Wicker Park art space Tritriangle occasionally plays host to hard-to-categorize noise makers, sees a degree of overlap with the music of cicadas: “In many ways, (experimental music) tends to have so much more in common with natural soundscapes, because it doesn’t hem to familiar, preestablished structures of Western music. And animals and insects in nature don’t, either. They are just trying to find a way to be heard the best.”

Chicago-based sound artist Kiku Hibino, whose work is typically heard in spaces like the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago and the Lincoln Park Conservatory, has made a career of drawing connections between the sounds created by nature and electronically created music. He grew up in Japan, often surrounded by cicadas, he said. He would collect their light green shells,  and he remembers the way cicadas chirped playfully whenever he tried to catch them. He describes their late summer song as going something like: “tsuku tsuku boshi.”

The analog synthesizer he favors for his art sounds suspiciously like the high-frequency calls of cicadas. He figures that’s because he never really shook loose childhood memories of the bugs.

In tone and sound, he said, “they are the complete opposite of electronic music in the fundamental way they produce sound. Electronic musicians think with our brains, and create sounds with synthesizers and then send them out to speakers. The cicada is different. Its entire body is a synthesizer with speakers.”

Specifically, a cicada contains a drum-like organ called a tymbal that includes a set of muscles that it pulls inward and snaps back at a rate of 300 to 400 times a second to create its songs.

The result — assuming their volume is quieter than a jet engine — can be meditative, and indistinguishable from the ambient soundscapes of artists like Brian Eno and Philip Glass.

Chicago-based StretchMetal is a record label and booking business that focuses on ambient music. Its signature project is an eight-hour-long Drone Sleepover during which the audience curls up — and usually sleeps — for a dusk-to-dawn concert of uninterrupted electronic droning. Once a month at the Hideout, StretchMetal also stages Drone Rodeo, a two-hour version.

Unlike many electronic artists, Gray Schiller, who curates and runs StretchMetal, said he doesn’t really distinguish between naturally-created and synthesized ambient sounds. The buzz of the cicada may be a “more literal manifestation of the natural world,” he said, but then, “the capacitors inside our synthesizers are made of clay. Our electronics wouldn’t hold power if they weren’t connected to ground or batteries composed of wet earth.”

Take comfort: Cicada season may be nearing its peak in Illinois, but the song of the (recorded) cicada plays on forever, no further than Spotify, where the ambient “First Summer Cicadas” has been streamed more than 181,000 times and “Cicada Sounds” has more than 168,000 listens.

On the other hand, you know who didn’t have Spotify?

The Greek poet Meleager of Gadara, who called the cicada “shrill-voiced.” Or Aesop, who thought of the cicada’s music as a free symphony. Or Margaret Atwood, way up in Canada, who probably has Spotify, but also once wrote of the insect perfectly, as emerging with “the yammer of desire, the piercing one note of a jackhammer, vibrating like a slow bolt of lightning.”

Each of those artists heard a natural performer where others heard a natural pest.

When Hibino was studying music in college, a professor in his first composition course played him a piece of abstract music and asked what he heard. He said he heard a giraffe. He heard a pepper mill grinding. Also, he heard cicadas. No, the professor revealed, it was just white noise.

But for Hibino, “It was my big aha moment, knowing sound can capture a human imagination.”

cborrelli@chicagotribune.com

Adapted by Dusty Brown and Elizabeth Swanson and directed by Swanson, this modern version reimagines all of the characters as part of the LGBTQ community. Set in Chicago’s Boystown and at a lake house in Michigan, Strawdog’s retelling focuses Wilde’s satirical wit on the social circles of wealthy Midwestern gays, personified in the delightfully snobbish Augustus Bracknell (Michael Reyes). Underlying the farcical hijinks of mistaken identities and lovers’ quarrels, the theme of found family lends a sweet note to this Pride Month production.

The play opens in the Boystown apartment of Algernon (Jack Seijo), where his friend “Ernest” (Johnard Washington) is visiting in hopes of proposing to Algernon’s cousin and Bracknell’s daughter, Gwendolen (Kade Cox). But first, Algernon demands that Ernest explain why he owns a watch engraved to “Uncle Jack” from “little Cecily.”

Ernest confesses that his real name is Jack, and he leads a double life. In Michigan, Jack is known as the responsible guardian of a late friend’s granddaughter, Cecily (Andi Muriel). Ernest is his fictional younger brother who provides a convenient excuse to escape to the city at any time. As it turns out, Algernon has a similar arrangement. Whenever he wants to get out of an obligation, he leaves the city to visit his fictional friend Bunbury, who always seems to be on the verge of death.

The setup for the farce is as follows: “Ernest” proposes to Gwendolen, who enthusiastically accepts, but Bracknell refuses to approve the match after finding out that he was a foundling abandoned in a tote bag in Ogilvie Station. Meanwhile, Algernon makes his way to Michigan to woo Cecily, a 26-year-old who lives with her life doula, Miss Prism (Lynne Baker), and journals about her vividly imagined romantic life. Algernon introduces himself as Jack’s brother, Ernest, leading to an increasingly absurd tangle of misunderstandings when Jack, Gwendolen and Bracknell later arrive at the lake house.

The language of Brown and Swanson’s adaptation retains much of Wilde’s style and his more famous lines, while sprinkling in modern terms such as guncle, baby gay and daddy (in the Urban Dictionary sense). This is a hyperlocal version, with references to Ainslie Street (“the unfashionable side” of Andersonville, Bracknell shudders) and the gay bar Big Chicks (“What am I, 40?” Algernon protests). The show also sends up the wellness lifestyle through the character of Miss Prism, a bespectacled hippie who reminds Cecily to repeat her daily affirmations while clutching a book by Glennon Doyle.

The cast is still working out the comedic timing in certain moments, and there were a few stumbles over lines at the performance I saw, but this ensemble is already quite funny. Seijo and Muriel have great chemistry as roguish Algernon and flirtatious Cecily. Reyes shines as Bracknell, with an unbending haughty posture and a subtle twitch of the lips to signal disapproval. Crystal Claros and Matt Keeley add to the fun in the respective roles of Dr. Chasuble — Miss Prism’s love interest — and Merriman/Lane, the two butlers.

The original subtitle of “The Importance of Being Earnest” is “A Trivial Comedy for Serious People.” Strawdog’s production is by no means serious, but it’s not entirely trivial, thanks to the recurring theme of the importance of chosen family for LGBTQ people. Jack reminisces warmly about Cecily’s grandfather, who took him under his wing when he first came out and moved to Chicago. The familial theme comes full circle when Jack learns the truth about his past in a last-minute plot twist.

Keeley’s bio calls this “a production that he believes Oscar Wilde would’ve loved to see.” At the risk of projecting onto the past, I’d have to agree. Strawdog has taken some of the most important values of Pride Month — love, acceptance and family — and made them sing through the words of a 19th-century gay playwright. Happy Pride, indeed.

Review: “The Importance of Being Earnest” (3 stars)

When: Through June 30

Where: Rivendell Theatre, 5779 N. Ridge Ave.

Running time: 1 hour, 55 minutes

Tickets: Free with advance registration; donations accepted at strawdog.org

Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.

Located at 3724 N. Clark St., in what for a couple of decades had been the Full Shilling Public House, the new Goat joins the increasingly frenetic playground and booze-fueled area that surrounds Wrigley Field.

Earlier in this century there had been a Goat a few blocks south but that closed after two years. “But it is nice to be back,” says Bill Sianis, whose family has long owned the Billy Goats. “It was always in our plans to return to the neighborhood. Maybe we are meant to be together.”

Others agree. The Lakeview East Chamber of Commerce issued a statement about its excitement for “the potential for this legendary establishment to weave itself into the fabric of our neighborhood. The arrival of the Billy Goat Tavern in Wrigleyville signifies more than just the expansion of a beloved Chicago eatery; it marks the coming together of two iconic Chicago institutions — Wrigley Field and the Billy Goat Tavern.”

It’s possible — isn’t it? — that some people might never have heard of the curse? The tavern’s north room will inform them. The story is on the walls, traveling back to Oct. 6, 1945, and William Sianis, owner of a tavern known as the Billy Goat Inn on Madison Street across from what was then the Chicago Stadium.

On that day he brought his pet goat named Murphy to see the Cubs play the Detroit Tigers in the fourth game of the World Series. Murphy was wearing a blanket with a sign pinned to it that read, “We Got Detroit’s Goat.”

In short, the pair were not allowed to take their seats and they returned to the tavern. After the Cubs lost the series, Sianis sent a telegram to team owner Phil Wrigley, asking, “Who stinks now?” And so was the curse born, fueled by a combination of the Cubs’ ineptitude and the inventiveness of newspaper writers. It finally ended when the Cubs won game seven against the Cleveland Indians in the 2016 World Series.

The southern room of the new tavern is devoted to the other source of BG fame: its many famous visitors, from presidents to movie stars, and some of the journalists who wrote of the BG, none more enthusiastically or artfully than columnist Mike Royko. Its walls also tell of the 1978 “Saturday Night Live” skit inspired by the “cheezborger, cheezborger” mantra at the BG and starring John Belushi, Bill Murray and Robert Klein. This room also contains the kitchen.

At an informal family-and-friends opening a couple of weeks ago, the crowd was peppered with a few celebrities, a couple of politicians, some loyal customers of the other Goats and a few curious neighbors.

Sam Sianis, the patriarch of the family that owns and operates the taverns, was there. Sitting and smiling, he might have been recalling how he came here from his native Greece in 1955 to work for his uncle Billy, helped open in 1964 what is now the oldest BG, that subterranean tavern on Hubbard Street.

He was with his wife Irene and she was smiling too as they watched some of their six grown children — in addition to Bill, sons Tom, Paul and Ted, and twin daughters Patty and Jennifer — and 11 grandkids examine the handsome new place.

Bill Sianis had a goat on a leash and they wandered around, stopping here and there for people who wanted to touch the animal. Bill said he and the family had purchased the entire two-story building where the tavern sits, with apartments upstairs. “We are here for keeps and maybe the chance for another World Series,” he said.

Earlier this week he was back, with his wife, Boriana Tchernookova, a visiting clinical assistant professor in the biology department at the University of Illinois-Chicago. Sitting with them was their son, the youngest of the pack of Sianis grandchildren, nearly 4-year-old Ephraim.

“And he is already saying, ‘cheezborger, cheezborger,” Tchernookova said. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

Ana Luna was working nearby. She has worked for the Sianis family for 15 years, at the other Billy Goat locations and most recently in the Lake Street outpost that recently closed. She is excited and not only because this spot is closer to her home.

“Yes, I can walk to work and I am still getting used to it, but I know it’s going to be good here,” she said. “Of course we expect it to be crowded when the Cubs are playing and there are a lot of other events at the park during the year. But we can’t wait to start serving breakfast and meet all our new neighbors.”

One of those neighbors is Joe Shanahan, the owner of the Metro/Smart Bar/Gman Tavern complex to the north. He has been in the neighborhood for more than 40 years. He was at the opening party and told me, “We welcome the Billy Goat to the block and wish them only the best success. The Sianis family has made a great impression on me and all the people I work with. It is not everyday you meet an icon like Sam Sianis on his ‘opening day’ and get to meet a goat too.”

She said in an Instagram video that she was hurt when she went there to pay her respects on Friday, which would have been his 66th birthday, but was not let into a studio. She said that it “won’t take away the joy that he and I had together” at the studio in suburban Minneapolis, which is now a museum in his memory.

“I went in to celebrate him, and I wanted to go into the studio and do a live video, take a picture, and they said, ‘No.’ “ Sheila said. ”My heart’s broke. I can’t even walk into Paisley. That’s kind of messed up. … Not a nice way to celebrate his birthday.”

In a follow-up statement released through her publicist on Monday, Sheila said she now wants the museum to return her old drum kit, which she said Prince personally asked to “borrow” to display there. She said she even heard a tour guide say, “My idol, Sheila E. even has her drums setup in the studio!”

Paisley Park posted on its own Instagram account that it just needed some advance warning.

“Hello Sheila – We love and respect you, and we did offer for you to come in and film in the soundstage or other areas, but we couldn’t allow filming in the studios without prior knowledge and planning, especially with tours going on at the time. We hope to have you back to Paisley Park in the future — just give us a heads-up! Happy Prince Day,” the message read, ended by a purple heart emoji.

Sheila was in Minnesota for a concert with Morris Day & the Time on Saturday in the northern town of Walker. In her statement Monday, she said she was the first artist to record at Paisley Park with Prince and walked the grounds with him when “the foundation was mere dirt and rope.” So she thinks her history should count for something.

Prince had no will when he died in 2016 of an accidental fentanyl overdose, so his estate, including Paisley Park, went to his siblings, who later sold most of their shares. His estate is now owned by two corporations, the music management company Primary Wave and Prince Legacy LLC, with a 2% share still held by his sister, Tyka Nelson.