"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?

A MIRROR OF SHALLOTT by R. H. Benson

Robert Hugh Benson (1871-1914) was one of the three Benson brothers who wrote ghost stories. The others were Edward Frederic Benson (or E.F.), of Mapp & Lucia fame, and Arthur Christopher, or A.C., Benson. It's also interesting as Edward and Arthur were both very likely gay (not with each other!), and Robert probably was as well, having an intense "bromance" or "romantic friendship" with another man and never marrying. Their father was an Archbishop of Canterbury and their mother was undoubtedly bisexual, known as "Ben" and setting up housekeeping with another woman after her husband's death.

R. H. Benson was a priest in the Anglican church but had a crisis of faith and ended up converting to Catholicism in 1903. He became a priest and also a noted author of the time, although aside from his ghost stories he's largely forgotten today.

A Mirror of Shallott is very, very obviously written by a fervent Catholic, which makes sense as it was published in 1904, a year after his conversion. There's a sort of "born-again Catholic" intensity in this book which is occasionally off-putting. The title is a reference to a Tennyson poem, in which a woman under a curse cannot actually look at the world, but only view it through a mirror. One wonders what sort of reference Benson was making with this...is this a mirror that shows the weird part of the world? Or is it a reference to Catholic priesthood being apart from the world?

The framing device of this collection of short stories is a conference of Catholic clergy, each recounting their adventures with the unknown. And they're not really always ghosts. This is often closer to be a collection of miracle stories rather than actual ghosts, and some are brief and not well resolved.

Monsignor Maxwell tells a tale of a pious man who fears for his brother who is deserting the faith, and eventually dies faithless himself, and possibly possessed. Father Meuron tells of an exorcism where a plate of food turns to worms before his eyes. Father Brent has an encounter with a young boy who may be having prophetic dreams, or visions of the past.

The Father Rector recounts a meeting with an artists whose salvation comes at the expense of his inspiration and talent. (Hardly inspiring!) Father Girdlestone's lengthy tale is of meeting evil spirits in the moors. Father Bianchi's was interesting to me, in which an elderly woman thinks she's having visions of a church's patron saint, but it's really a pagan god over whose temple the church was built. (The story is unresolved, a rather interesting take for such intense faith.) Father Jenks...well, his story rambles and didn't have any impact. Something about a possible ghost and a woman who might be turning her house over to the church.

I could recount more, but you get the idea. Every story has to do with a Catholic priests' work, and all have spiritual implications and sometimes are very moralistic. The final story is of a house haunted by an inexplicable emptiness..."Like a Catholic cathedral in Protestant hands," it's described, which sums up this book's prejudices rather succinctly.

There are print editions out there, but also cheap electronic versions for your Kindle or other e-reader. This isn't very highly recommended, unless you're intensely Catholic, or a Benson Brothers completist, or perhaps simply fascinated by issues of faith in supernatural fiction. The general public might get bogged down by the religiosity so be warned.