"The Homo Poe Show" from Iron Crow Theatre

So, I FINALLY have a car again, and am having fun doing stuff I wasn't able to do before, like going to the library or grocery store on impulse. I'm looking forward to be able to visit parks and have adventures. And going to the theater!

I found out about this by chance when browsing the Baltimore Sun's gay news page, got a ticket online, and braved an unexpected slush storm to get there. And I'm glad I went.

Produced by Iron Crow Theatre, a Baltimore-based LGBT theater group, this puts an interesting gay twist on the works of Poe. Of course, some of Poe's work kind of lends itself to gay interpretation; I always wondered about C. Auguste Dupin. Seriously, this is a fun, provocative work.

Something interesting about it, besides being a series of vignettes doing a gay twist on Poe, is the amount of aerial choreogrpahy (from Mara Neimanis), with characters climbing on large rings, and at one point, an arrow, hanging from the ceiling. It gives a unique aspect to the staging, which also includes some dance as well.

It kicks off with "I Dreamed of Poe," in which Neimanis engages in some aerial work, including making a pendulum of herself. Then up is "Thomas," a sort of gay twist on "Eleonora" with aspects of "Annabel Lee." Then comes my favorite part of the show, "Timothy," which is more directly influence by "Annabel Lee" but also tackles a gay man's obsession with youth, always chasing young guys who represent his long-lost first love, and being mocked all the while by Time, swinging on a pendulum. Then up is "Super-Hot Raven," an amusing satire on super-politically-correct intellectualism, as a lesbian poet comes home to find a handywoman in a Ravens jersey fixing the radiator...and then they fall in love.

The second part is rather dance-oriented, kicking off with an aerial piece by Neimanis, "Points of Grief," and then a forceful dance/choreographed fight between two men, "Do You Mark Me Well?" The last piece, "Grieving and Sequins," hits on Poe's themes of loss of loved ones, and borrows a bit from "Masque of the Red Death," as a man who lost his lover to AIDS confronts the specter of his infection and how it keeps him from engaging with life.

There's good performances all round, and a very literate and intelligent script. The combination of traditional theater with dance and aerial choreography makes for a blast of a theatrical experience. There is some brief nudity, which I certainly enjoyed but it's worth mentioning for those with delicate sensibilities. But if you have delicate sensibilities, what the hell are you doing reading this blog?

The Blood-Spattered Bard; or, "An Adaptation of Julius Caesar" from Molotov

It's Shakespeare! It's full of beautiful language and symbolism! And, of course, it's a bloodbath!

An Adaptation of Julius Caesar, Molotov Theatre Group's latest good-natured atrocity, may seem like absurd mayhem on the surface, but underneath not only lie its roots in a classic tragedy, but also quite a bit of contemporary commentary, and quite a few solid performances.

Mark Antony, over the body of Julius C.

The surprising thing about it is that it starts off really seeming like fairly authentic, if condensed Shakespeare. We have Julius C. (a very well-cast James Radack, who physically fits the part perfectly; he has a profile that belongs on a Roman coin) ready to turn the Roman republic into a monarchy, with himself at the head. A clutch of conspirators, including Brutus (Brandon Mitchell), Casca (Evan Crump), and Cassius (Genevieve James, in what I would term a "trouser role" if she wasn't in a toga), fear for Rome's future if that happens, or at least say they do. So midway through the first act, we have the famous stabbing, the classic "Et tu, Brute?", and then the famous funeral scene. By now, I was wondering if and when it was going to veer off into Molotov territory, and I let out a little "oh" as Julius Caesar proceeded to rise from his coffin, sporting a set of fangs, and proceeding to bite the neck of Mark Antony (Brian Wahlquist).

Yes, you read that right.

The second act becomes, in a way, "Marcus Brutus: Vampire Hunter" as he struggles to free Rome from the threat posed by Caesar's vampire legion, dodging the advances of Caesar's converted wife Calpurnia (Jennifer Speerstra), and protecting his own wife Portia (Jessica Thorne), to whom Caesar wants to give the Lucy Westenra treatment. And a soothsayer (Angela Kay Pirko) is getting Renfieldized, while Cassius' ambition grows unchecked.

Cassius, Casca, and Peter, the short-lived Christian. That's me, from the back, in the lower right.

While it may sound utterly berserk, it's actually played very straight-faced and with great conviction. Genevieve James' Cassius is a standout as someone who rallies the well-intentioned for personal gain, and takes every opportunity to grab more power for himself. And, honestly, it's easy to forget it's a woman in that role, she vanishes into it so completely. Brian Wahlquist, as Mark Antony and several other roles, was also memorable; the "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech that he delivers, which could descend into cliche and parody, is instead enthralling and sincere. James Radack's vampirized Caesar could easily be played for camp, but instead is a man profoundly wronged and consumed by two thirsts, for blood and revenge. Jennifer Speerstra is appropriately vampy as Calpurnia (both before and after), and Jessica Thorne's Portia is believable as the wife who craves the confidence of her husband, but who falls prey to the predations of Caesar. Brandon Mitchell is noble as Brutus, whose tragedy this really is; he's an essentially good and noble person who truly believes he acts for the good of Rome, but who is ultimately destroyed, not only by his decisions but by the company he keeps. Angela Kay Pirko's soothsayer is a wonderful portrait of wisdom mixed with derangement, so appropriate for the role. Evan Crump is solid as conspirator Casca, caught in Cassius' orbit while simultaneously resenting it.

A big plus is the script; Shawn Northrip's work not only keeps the themes of the original Shakespeare work, but also works in observations on the exploitation of religion for political and personal gain, and raising a valid question: are those who declare they act in the name of "freedom" really concerned with everyone's freedom? Or will they be willing to exploit others when it becomes convenient? (All certainly appropriate at this point in history...) Of course, classic themes of the destructive nature of ambition, and how the repercussions of an act of violence can ultimately turn on you, are all there, the sort of essential Bard that shines through. Northrip deserves kudos for that. Occasional riffs from Stoker and assorted Dracula movies are peppered here and there, but do not overwhelm the material (thankfully).

What's a Shakespeare tragedy without a battle?

But Kevin Finkelstein's assured and capable direction makes it happen. Thanks to him, the conviction and sincerity in the performances prevent the show from simply being a camp trifle, and instead make it a legitimate tragedy and lets the message come through. It's quite a high-wire act, and it comes off beautifully. This is remarkable work.

Alex Zavistovich, who I previously dubbed the "Tod Slaughter of the 21st Century," is behind the scenes on this one, doing the fight choreography, makeup, and effects, and there's quite a few effective moments of gore and spurting blood, not to mention a remarkable battle in the second act. Incidental music, that all sounds quite Roman, comes from composer Konstantine Lortkipanidze. And effective lighting is by lighting designer Jason Aufdem-Brinke, who also provided me with the photos in this review, taken on opening night.

Not quite the last act of Hamlet, but close.

If you're in the DC area, or can make it in, this is simply not to be missed. It's a great, funny melding of Shakespeare and a Saturday-night horror show, but with many legitimate things to say, and eye-opening performances. An Adaptation of Julius Caesar is simply not to be missed, no way, no how.

An Adaptation of Julius Caesar is playing 3/15 to 4/7 at the Shop at Fort Fringe, 607 New York Ave NW, Washington DC. Tickets are $20 a throw and can be ordered here; and you can always go to Molotov themselves for more information.

See 'em before the final curtain call!

THE SHANGHAI GESTURE by John Colton

On a whim, I managed to track down John Colton's original play, The Shanghai Gesture, to read over the holidays. (My recent chatter about Josef von Sternberg brought it to mind.)

It was actually a rather controversial play back in 1918, with protests from the Chinese embassy and accusations of morbid racism. It criticizes Western imperialism in Asia, and tackles taboo subjects like prostitution, addiction, and racial mixing. A scene of a white girl being auctioned off as a sex slave to lascivious Chinese coolies is something out of a Sax Rohmer novel.

Mother God Damn is the madame of the biggest brothel in Shanghai, as well as the keeper of the secrets of the city's western aristocrats. Her secretary is a bankrupt Englishman, working off gambling debts. She's planning a lavish dinner party in celebration of the Chinese New Year, and invited the cream of Shanghai's western ambassadors and businessmen, none of whom dare to refuse. It's all part of a huge scheme of revenge against the arrogant Sir Guy Charteris, who struts in hoping to make Mother God Damn his mistress. Also showing up are Prince Oshima, a dissolute Japanese diplomat, and Poppy, his English girlfriend, a well-dressed hoyden who's a self-dubbed nymphomaniac as well as an alcoholic and drug addict.

In the decadent atmosphere of the brothel, all sorts of plots and counterplots unfold. It's ripe melodrama with touches of Greek tragedy, but it's so trashy by modern standards, like an overproduced and underthought Lifetime TV movie. The attitudes toward race and racial cross-breeding are horribly quaint and outdated, and it's also ruthlessly classist.

The play is rarely produced, with good reason; unless done as overheated camp melodrama, there's really no place for it today. (It was revived by the Mirror Repertory Company in 2009, to mixed reviews, but actually featured an Asian actress playing Mother God Damn for the first time. The picture at top is from that production.) Also, the stage directions call for huge and lavish sets, something most companies would balk at or just make do with minimalist substitutions. The Shanghai Gesture is regarded as something of a minor classic of the theater, but upon reading it I'd guess that its reputation is more about notoriety than actual quality.

And now for the von Sternberg connection....he made it into a movie in 1941. It was heavily bowdlerized, naturally. Mother God Damn became Mother Gin Sling. The brothel became a casino. Poppy, instead of being a drug-and-booze-addled nympho, became a compulsive gambler. It at least had Gene Tierney in luscious Oleg Cassini gowns as Poppy. I saw it years ago; it's not bad, kind of an early noir, but also with that trademark von Sternberg decadence and an odd scene were Walter Huston (as Charteris) seems to be flirting with a brawny coolie (played by Mike Mazurki). 1941 was also an odd year for making this; by then things had become too decorous and von Sternberg's earlier excesses were no longer welcome. Still, it's out there, and might be worth a watch for the sake of a chuckle.

If someone ever mounts a production of this, I'd enjoy seeing it (if I can get to it). The play can be a little hard to find; I borrowed a dusty copy from the Pratt library in Baltimore, and checking on Abebooks shows copies available from $50 to $99. Read it if you can find it, but don't expect much from it. It's an amusing relic, little more.

Cabaret Macabre!

I'm being a bit of an old poop this Halloween. I've been experiencing some foot pain (I probably need to replace my inserts), and getting around without a car has occasionally been a freakin' annoyance. (I should add that some of my friends have really come through for me, and for that and them, I am extremely grateful.) We had a dreadful cold snap today, with record lows, sleet and snow making dicey traveling, and a freeze expected in the small hours tonight. Also a bit of personal drama (not going into detail, except to say that someone's been crossed off the Christmas card list, at least for the time being) has left me in a sour mood. So rather than be a killjoy at parties, I've been going to the movies and the theater, and actually having a good time.

Tonight I hit Happenstance Theater's delightful "Cabaret Macabre," the second of what will hopefully be an annual event. There's no real plot here; it's a series of sketches, all influenced by sources as scattered as Edward Gorey, Tom Waits, true crimes, Tom Lehrer, Goethe, and others. There is a loose connection around the concept of a school for "Precocious Twins" but that's merely an excuse for some loosely-connected skits. As there always is, there's parts that aren't as funny as others (a repeated gag seems like a bad idea), and sometimes the audience was chuckling at stuff that was really meant to be serious (a dramatic reading of "The Erl-King", which I saw coming almost at once), but overall it was a grand experience. There's skits, readings, and musical interludes, including Schubert's "Du Bist Die Ruh" on cello, piano, and musical saw.

Mark Jaster, one of the two brains behind Happenstance, is an amazing performer, communicating volumes with a single gesture or small change of expression. Sabrina Mandell, the other brain, combines an appealing goofiness with sharp-as-a-tack expressions. The rest of the cast is quite good, and Matthew Pauli was memorable when he strutted onstage, shirtless, as "Shears the Groundskeeper." (Alas, it's only one brief bit. Yes, I'm being a toad.) Karen Hansen's original music livens up the proceedings. It's also one of those shows that makes you appreciate good lighting design.

It's all great fun, and rekindles my yearning for a full-time cabaret. One of my many recurring pipe-dreams (at least, one of those I can comfortably share on this blog) is having my own nightclub/cabaret...although I'm undecided if I'd call it "Le Cafe Fantomas" or "Das Kabarett Mabuse."

"Cabaret Macabre" plays at Round House Theatre's Silver Spring facility, right on Colesville Road next to the AFI Silver. It plays Thursday through Sunday till Nov. 13, with a show on Halloween night as well. Tickets are $15 and worth every penny. See it, folks, this is Dust & Corruption delirium.

Fringe Festival '11: Post-Mortem

I was EXHAUSTED after last weekend...in four days I saw six plays and attended two concerts. While the concerts weren't really part of the schedule (one was Tim Minchin, the other was William Elliott Whitmore, and both were wonderful in different ways), they were still fun, but it was also brutally hot, with record-setting temperatures, and it left me flat. And work has kept me hoppin'.

But I promised myself a breakdown of what else I'd seen at the Fringe Festival, so here goes.

This show, sponsored by the DC Film Alliance, was a lot of fun. It was the old game show resurrected with local celebs, including some chefs, a drag queen, and a former football player. The humor was ribald, and one of the chefs kept wanting to take off his pants. He never did, much to my disappointment.

"Gallantry" was a load of fun and one of the better shows I saw in the festival. Presented by Opera Alterna (a group I need to check out), it's a soap opera parody that's an actual freakin' opera. The singing was top-notch, and the plot included commercial breaks (for soap and floor wax), a sexy nurse, and an aria sung by a fellow in a hospital gown with his ass hanging out. In other words, perfection.

"Foggerty's Fairy" was presented by the Victorian Lyric Opera Company, but it wasn't an opera or operetta. Rather, it was a straight play by W. S. Gilbert (of "& Sullivan" fame), an amusing farce about a man whose impending marriage is threatened by a relationship from his past. Wishing to his guardian fairy that it had never come about, he suddenly wakes to find his past has been altered...but so has his present, and not for the better. It's stuff that we're used to these days, but it seems it was a challenging concept for the 1880s, as the play did not do well back then. It has aged very well.

Ben Egerman's "The Beasts" was my least favorite. It's got a very intriguing premise that's muddled at first but becomes clearer as the show goes on...mankind has retreated underground, presumably after a nuclear war, and has existed in underground bunkers for generations. Now they're wondering whether it's safe to go out now, and worried about the animals that present threats to them. Meanwhile the animals are wondering what to do if and when the humans emerge. It's a one-man show (something I normally avoid) presented with puppets for the animals, and goes on and on but never really gets anywhere. But the folks around me loved it, so maybe it was just me and there was something I didn't get.

"Divas Just Wanna Have Fun!" by the group 7 Sopranos was a delight. A program of songs from opera, operetta, musical theater, and traditional tunes, the singing was flawless and these ladies have an undeniable presence and chemistry. They work well together and have fun clowning and shouldering each other out of the way, and then switching gears and flirting with the audience (me, quite often). I want to see those gals again!

On one of the hottest nights of the year so far I saw MixRun Production's "King Lear." The staff handed out bottles of water before the show, and I survived by barely moving (the space was not air-conditioned). That said, it was an interesting evening. Their take on the classic involved setting it in a biker gang and their sleazy bar HQ, with many characters played as gay or bi, and Lear's madness played as alcoholism. At first the concept seemed almost a bit too cute for its own good, but the power of the material shone through and by the end I was wiping away tears. I did feel bad for the actors, though; during the evening their costumes became more and more sweat-soaked, and by the end all were drenched and probably dying to get out and take a shower. But they all did an impressive job and I'm glad I went.

"An Adult Evening with Shel Silverstein" was presented by the exhaustively-named "Actors Repertory Theatre of the National Conservatory of Dramatic Arts" but was a fun show. A collection of short sketches by the famed poet and children's author, it was patently adult and often very funny. As with any anthology, it was of varying quality, with my favorite being a play where a man confronts his wife about her slowly becoming a bag lady, talking to her about how there's a bowl of cold oatmeal in her purse. A couple were more peculiar than funny, but still with that Silverstein stamp.

Naturally, there was a Poe-themed show, and naturally, I had to go. "Embodying Poe" was an interesting take on Edgar. Presented by Sanctuary Theatre, I found it a bit of a mixed bag. It was a narrative of Poe's life, with readings, all done by actor Robert Michael Oliver. While it didn't have much new to say, it swing the focus from the usual Poe stuff to his more cosmic and mystical work, and at the very least avoided the usual one-man reading of "The Tell-Tale Heart," which I never want to experience again. The readings were very well-done, but for some reason it didn't grab me as much, and I can't help but wonder if it was because I was tired or there was too much noise from outside the venue. Still, it was at least different and a halfway refreshing take on Poe, so it deserves credit.

"The Malachite Palace" by Wit's End Puppets was a charming little show, told mainly with shadow puppets, and half in English and half in Spanish. It was a kid-friendly fairy tale about a princess imprisoned by convention in a gorgeous palace and kept from having friends and leading a satisfying life. Nothing dark and macabre here, but it was nice to know there's good stuff for kids (nothing overly insipid or vulgar, but with some actual quality) , and it was fascinating from an artistic standpoint.

I wasn't sure about Brian Wilbur Grundstrom's "A Day at the Museum" but saw it had some good reviews, and decided it would be my final show. I'm glad I chose it. It's a wordless play, all the action communicated by movement and expression. Three frames are set up before the audience and we see the actors as they look at a trio of paintings. In the back, behind an illuminated cloth screen, we see a nude model striking the poses in the paintings, and we get the reactions of the museum-goers. And there actually is something of a story here, as a middle-aged woman with a teenaged daughter comes by, and you realize that she's the model in the paintings, grown older, and wants to tell her daughter about it. It ends affectingly, with the mother finally communicating to the daughter that she's the model, but also the baby she's holding in one painting is the daughter herself as an infant. It was actually quite touching; Pamela Nash, who played the mom, was wonderful in communicating wistful nostalgia and pride. And I was also VERY happy to find that it was choreographed by John Milosich, who did the choreography for Old Lore Theatre's "The Fiddler Ghost" and "Annabel Lee," two simply amazing shows, and I've mourned Old Lore not reappearing in subsequent festivals. Milosich is an amazing choreographer and I was overjoyed to see his work again.

So, that's pretty much it. There were several shows I wanted to catch, but didn't, and others that were maybes. I had an informal rules of no one-man shows (broken) and no "feminist takes" on classics (kept); not that I'm anti-feminist but I've seen a few too many "feminist takes" on classic plays and stories that left even my strongly feminist friends rolling their eyes and checking their watches. I didn't do too much overtly gay-themed stuff this year, either; the gayest stuff was either one-man shows (avoided) or one play that had a ridiculous title ("Caught in Dante's Fifth: The Naked Truth of Kindred Spirits") and which was universally dismissed (at least, as far as I could see) as a pretentious mess, of interest only for the male nudity.

I did do something different; I picked up a ten-show pass, which saved me a bit a of money, and I'm wondering if I want to pick up a universal pass for next year. We'll see.

But I had fun this year, not only seeing shows but meeting new people and connecting with some of my theater-world friends. Yes, it seems I have a certain amount of popularity in the local theater community...it's always a pleasant surprise to find myself being popular, probably a holdover from my younger days of extreme unpopularity, and even as an adult having spells of pariahdom. But at least now I know where to go when I'm down...

Blood Sweat & Fears II: Guilty Pleasures

Molotov does it again!

Last night was the opening of Molotov's latest show, "Blood Sweat & Fears II: Guilty Pleasures," a delicious cabaret of three short plays, all introduced with zest by hostess Katie Molinaro.

First up was "Jack," an adaptation of an 1897 play (by Oscar Metenier) from the original Grand Guignol theater. The focus here is on suspense and terror, as a prostitute begins to realize that her current john, Jack, is really a serial killer. Second was a modern smut farce, "Thank You," by Carro Marren and Jon Lane. It opens with former mental patient Jacob, who's kidnapped Kevin. Turns out Kevin unknowingly did Jacob a good turn, and Jacob has brought him over for a happy few days. However, things take a very perversely hilarious turn (and I won't say how). Last up was Tara Garwood's "Is the Coffee Still Warm?" (freely adapted from the play "Coals of Fire" by Frederick Witney), which was a serious shocker. A wealthy blind woman is being read to by her servant, and in the course of the action, confesses that she's having an affair with her boss' husband. Naturally, blind fury arises with a gruesome revenge.

It's is about 10,000 different kinds of wrong, and in all the right ways. Lucas Maloney's direction is top-notch; he understand the material and lets the macabre humor run at full throttle. The cast has a great time with the material. Katie Molinaro is the quintessential vamp in her hostess role. Jenny Donovan is most effective in two fear-struck roles, the prostitute in the first play and the timid servant in the third. Newcomer Misia Certe is great fun, as the Madame in the first and the vengeful blind woman in the third. Kevin Finklestein is great fun as Jacob, a genuine comic talent. And Alex Zavistovich's burly presence is vital to this show; he's the perfect Jack in the first part and few actors have the balls to pull off what Kevin does in the second part. He's gifted with comedy but when he's the menace, he's almost a Tod Slaughter for the 21st century. All the gory parts come together in a gloriously hideous evening of fun.

Be warned, folks: stuff gets splattered on the audience. They provide plastic to protect one's self, but substances go out into the audience, including simulacra of blood and another bodily fluid. I wasn't quick enough on the draw and my favorite embroidered t-shirt got splattered...although since it's a horror-themed shirt, it's appropriate. (The program above was on the seat next to me. The bloodstains are not part of the design.) I'm told it'll wash off. But it did put me in a certain mood; I strutted out of the place, confident that nobody would fuck with me on the Metro ride home. And nobody did.

"Blood Sweat & Fears II: Guilty Pleasures" plays through 10/31, Wednesday through Sunday at 8:00pm, with a second show on Saturdays at 11:00. It's playing at 1409 Playbill Cafe, 1409 14th St NW, Washington DC. See it, folks, this is Dust & Corruption bliss.

Catching up: Theater, film, and books

OK, my job's been a little crazy since the last time, and I've been busy with a couple of things; for one, I bought a new desk, one of those unfinished-wood things, that could look like something from a college dorm if you didn't do it right. But I did it right and after staining and polyurethaning it looks like an antique. It's now a cozy little corner of my living room for me to do my computing and other stuff.