Yesterday, it was 75 degrees and sunny. Climate change? Global warming? Could be, depending on who you’re inclined to believe. That’s the central inspiration for Carrie Hanson’s Exit Disclaimer: Science and Fiction Ahead, now playing through Saturday at the Dance Center of Columbia College.

Amidst compressed set pieces of Rubik’s Cube-like boxes (an allusion, maybe, to clusters of recyclables or trash) a spotlight shines on a school desk, while two dancers fancifully—like impressionable children—fuss with one another. The sweet prodding of the couple clashes against cheeky intercuts of bubbly tunes, while the rest of the cast assembles to perform Hanson’s whimsical yet grounded base of modern phrasing. The dancers—kinetic movers, as described by Hanson—shift between bits of performance art and choreography, using spoken language, movement and a smidgen of theater to portray the contentious divide over a rather bitter debate.

What ensues is something subtle and deftly clever in its contrasts: nature versus nurture, present and future, and (the driving force of all things) money and power. A slow start ultimately builds to a sleek, smartly crafted commentary of culture gaps and conflicting ideals. This piece doesn’t exclusively speak about climate change, but about a culture of clashing viewpoints. What one person believes, the other is ready to refute with illogical, impulsive and downright silly harangues. A prop-heavy performance finds lots of irony and humor for a subject inevitably tied to rancorous politics.

But politics doesn’t define the piece, and here is where Hanson separates herself from the status quo; she amasses tons of information and dissects it from every vantage point, but avoids being predictable. Exit Disclaimer is not a lecture on the pitfalls of climate change, or whether it’s simply the natural course of things; instead, there’s a sly suggestion that we’re all part of the same demise. In the beginning of the piece, the dancers wear pedestrian clothing—a naïve girl in a skirt, a little boy wearing a NASA t-shirt. After a brief pause, the dancers change into all white, suggesting that they’ve matured; their identities are linked to one another. Finally, the last phrase of unison pits them together. The group breathes as a single unit, inhaling and exhaling. A Darth Vader-like straining sound oozes in the background. Just before the set goes dark, the dancers take a last gasp for air, but, as with members of the audience, the lights cut out before anyone has a chance to exhale.

Exit Disclaimer: Science and Fiction Ahead continues at the Dance Center of Columbia College Chicago Friday and Saturday at 8pm.

Mike Birbiglia is good at his job. Aside from a couple cringe-inducing moments like a drunk-driving accident from hell and a carnival ride gone horribly awry, there's nothing he recalls in the courtship of the woman who is now his wife that differs too terribly from anyone else's dating life. But the devil is in the details and any of us should be so lucky as to spin the kinds of tantalizing and hilarious yarns that a seasoned rancoteur like Birbiglia did last night at the Victory Gardens in his new solo show My Girlfriend's Boyfriend, which plays through Monday.

Susan Felder’s Wasteland is a heartbreaking but hopeful new drama at Timeline Theatre about two American soldiers captured and imprisoned in northern Vietnam, but only one of the actors is seen by the audience. Behind the curtain, Steve Haggard is performing without the benefit of a set or audience, giving a remarkably deep performance with only his voice. A native of Columbus, Ohio, Haggard wasn’t involved with theater until he got benched on his high school baseball team, after which he quit and began working on stage crew. He auditioned for plays the following year, getting cast in lead roles and igniting a passion that took him to the Theatre School at DePaul University, where he graduated in 2002. He’s been working steadily ever since, and became an ensemble member at A Red Orchid in 2007, where he will be appearing later this season in Annie Baker’s The Aliens. Haggard speaks to us about Wasteland’s unique rehearsal process, what he’s doing behind the curtain, and how his mental image of Riley doesn’t actually look like him.

The League of Chicago Theatres is teaming with Choose Chicago, the city's new official tourism entity, to spearhead a first annual Chicago Theater Week in February 2013. Much like Chicago Restaurant Week, which will mark its sixth year in February, the nascent Theater Week promotion is aimed at driving traffic to theaters at a typically slower time of year.

The plan was briefly outlined for League members at the League's annual meeting on Monday evening, in remarks by Melissa Hayes Cherry, Choose Chicago's newly appointed vice president for cultural tourism and neighborhoods, and League executive director Deb Clapp.

"It's similar in shape and tone to Restaurant Week—everyone participating at a specific price point, or probably two price points, [though] we haven't set that yet," Clapp said in a follow-up interview this afternoon. Like Restaurant Week's discounted prix fixe menus, participating theaters will set aside blocks of tickets at those chosen price points for every performance during Theater Week.

Choose Chicago's role will involve promoting the event as an attraction for both Chicago area residents and regional visitors, Clapp says; she anticipates tie-ins with restaurants, hotels and other businesses. Clapp also foresees a kickoff party similar to Restaurant Week's First Bites Bash. "Not that we're going to do everything exactly like Restaurant Week, but it seems to be a great model that's working really well for them," she says. "I think this could be spectacular."