Try Walking A Mile In Their Shoes

Many Americans experience culture shock when traveling abroad. Some tourists expect these moments to revolve around earth-shaking events but, all too often, they appear in tiny flashes which remind people that "We're not in Kansas anymore." Some examples from my past travels:

• On a 1986 visit to an opera friend's home in Cumbria's scenic Lake District, my host and I stopped at a local fish and chips shop for lunch. Failing to understand that the fish fillets had been dipped in batter before being lowered into a deep fat fryer, I could not grasp why the signs said "battered" fish. The term "jacket potato" was similarly confusing.
• On a visit to Aarhus in 1987 to attend performances of the RING cycle at the Danish National Opera, I entered the theatre comforted by the publicist's assurance that the RING would be performed with Supertitles. What he hadn't told me was that the Supertitles would be written in Danish rather than English.
• The following week, after a performance of Carmen at the Royal Opera House in Stockholm, I joined some opera fans I had met in Aarhus for a post-performance dinner at an Italian restaurant. When the waiter described the house salad as being served with "Rhode Island dressing," I told him that, having lived in Rhode Island for three years, I could assure him there was no such thing. As he listed the ingredients I laughed and told him that what he had just described was what Americans call "Russian dressing."
• During my 1989 visit to Luxor to tour some ancient Egyptian ruins, I was shocked to discover that my reservation was nowhere to be found in the hotel's computer system. Lacking sufficient funds to pay for a room upgrade (and not understanding the critical role of baksheesh in the local economy), I ended up spending two nights listening to donkeys and goats braying outside my window. On my EgyptAir flight from Aswan back to Cairo, I was surprised to see the pilot leave the door to the cockpit ajar (he even asked an off-duty employee if he would like to join the pilots up front for the duration of the flight).

Visiting the Sphinx and Great Pyramids in 1989

When children of immigrants visit their parents' city of origin -- or when audiences are exposed to stories from their homeland -- their experiences often expose them to cultural differences that rarely appear in travel brochures. When seen in film or onstage, such experiences can become important "teachable moments."

Traveling from London to the 1988 Brighton Arts Festival

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Most documentaries focus on a noble cause, a burning passion, or a remarkable phenomenon. By contrast, Laura Asherman’s film about Indian-American stand-up comedian Tushar Singh seems much more like a vanity project.


Raised in Huntsville, Alabama by immigrant parents, Singh was the only Indian child in his grade in elementary school – an awkward, chubby youngster who felt as if he always stuck out “like a big brown thumb.” Though he spoke Hindi at home with his family and sat through his profoundly intellectual father’s weekly astrological readings, Tushar eventually found a way to make friends with the local rednecks as well as other Desi children in the Huntsville area.

Upon entering Georgia Tech and being exposed to a much more progressive American ideology than that of his conservative parents, Tushar began to question certain aspects of Indian culture (the caste system, arranged marriages, political corruption) as he spent more time on a college campus.

American Hasi (which will be screened next month during the 3rd i Film Festival) begins in Los Angeles where the adult Singh has developed some solid friendships and hosts a weekly show at a local comedy club. Freed from financial obligations after being fired from his day job, he decides to embark on an international journey to see how well his particular brand of stand-up humor will be received during a 35-day tour of India.


As an Indian-American comedian eager to make people laugh, Singh starts his five-week trip in Mumbai and finishes up in New Delhi before heading home to Los Angeles. What Tushar hopes to learn is (a) whether he has what it takes to make it as a full-time stand-up comic, (b) whether his ambition and naivete may only take him as far as having a fun hobby, and (c) whether his material is strong enough to give Tushar the kind of cultural advantage that would allow him to relocate to India and attempt to build a career on two continents.

Comedian Tushar Singh and his mother kill time
in an airport in a scene from American Hasi

Following the death of his father, Tushar’s mother (who readily admits to being embarrassed by her son's jokes about anal sex) accompanies him on his Indian adventure. In addition to documenting Singh’s visits to the Taj Mahal, several Indian comedy clubs, and the village where his father was born, Asherman films Singh’s interviews with successful Indian comedians such as Russell Peters and Vir Das (who offer supportive but realistic advice on how to improve his act).

Large parts of Asherman’s cinema verité documentary feel formulaic and, to be honest, Singh does not come across as a particularly strong talent. Here's the trailer:

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Golden Thread Productions is currently presenting the 2019 ReOrient Festival of Short Plays, an annual program inspired by the need to include the countries and peoples covered by the company’s broad and inclusive definition of the Middle East. As Executive Artistic Director Torange Yeghiazarian (who grew up as an Armenian minority in Iran and was raised as both a Christian and Muslim by her mixed family) explains:

“While I have always wanted Golden Thread’s work to reflect the many layers of our identity, perspective, and aesthetic, no amount of clever programming can fully reflect the complexities of our lives. Each ReOrient becomes a litmus of our collective state of mind, which is, by itself, an impressive purpose to serve. ReOrient always leaves us with more questions than answers. This year’s festival is no different.”

“What stands out most is the singular voice of women. Women playwrights and women characters speak to us about privilege, power, and the improbability of fulfillment. Veteran playwrights and newcomers alike struggle with finding the right answers. They ask what happens when women (particularly ‘ethnic’ women) take power. How do we gain agency and achieve personal fulfillment? What happens when we have no control? Or when our values do not reflect those of the world we live in? These are profound questions, particularly when addressing such universal concerns as health care, immigration, and war. How much control do we really have over such matters? If we understand privilege to imply access to the multitudes of choices, then how do we exercise those choices?”

With set design by Kate Boyd, costumes by Brooke Jennings, lighting by Dylan Feldman, and sound design by James Ard, this 20th anniversary ReOrient Festival features a lineup of seven short plays of which four are world premieres, two are West Coast premieres, and one is a U.S. premiere. Often, during such anthology programs, one or two actors may stand out above the others. During the 2019 festival that actor is the versatile Atosa Babaoff, whose burning focus and dramatic intensity bring to mind the young Kathy Najimy. When Babaoff "takes stage," it's impossible to take one's eyes off her. When she is not onstage, there is a noticeable drop in energy.

Atosa Babaoff stars in The Grievance Club
(Photo by: David Allen)

Babaoff kicks off the evening with her stunning performance in Iraqi-British playwright Rendah Heywood's provocative short play entitled The Grievance Club. As a highly successful investment banker, she is being vetted for membership in an exclusive club for people of obscene wealth where she will be allowed to fulfill her most extreme fantasies. As a single woman who has constantly been scorned and rejected by the “Old Boys’ Club” in finance and other professional circles, Atosa’s anonymous woman knows exactly what she wants: to beat the living shit out of rich old white men. But when the perfect submissive shows up and offers her a baseball bat to do the job, she discovers that satisfying her bloodlust can have unexpected consequences. With Amitis Rossoukh supplying the offstage voice of a female interviewer, Lisa Marie Rollins has directed this fiery demonstration of speaking truth to power with sadism and sarcasm to spare. Once again, the audience is warned to “Beware your fantasy, it might just come true.”

Babaoff returns to close the evening as Maysoon in the world premiere of Brass Knuckles. Directed by Torange Yeghiazarian, this monologue by Egyptian-American playwright Yussef El Guindi introduces audiences to a Muslim woman as she gives herself a pep talk in order to muster the courage to leave her home and walk freely on the streets of her city. Wearing a hijab, the woman may seem like an easy target, but any fool who threatens her will feel the pain inflicted by her secret weapon of self-defense. It's interesting to note that El Guindi's play was inspired by the 2017 attack by a white nationalist against two Muslim women  traveling in a MAX light rail train in Portland, Oregon.

Atosa Babaoff (Maysoon) is fully prepared to defend
herself in Brass Knuckles (Photo by: David Allen)

In the world premiere of The Book of Mima (written by Naomi Wallace and directed by Rebecca Novick), Lawrence Radecker performs an eerie monologue which begins as the voice of an innocent bird flying through the skies above Yemen when it spots a young girl on the ground who is engrossed in reading a children’s storybook. Through a keen use of magical realism (aided by James Ard’s subtle sound design), the voice slowly realizes that it is not a bird but, instead, the mind of an airborne military weapon that has targeted Mima and is rapidly drawing closer as its altitude drops. From a purely technological standpoint, a sentient Tomahawk missile isn’t that far removed from Dave (the talking computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey). The only problem is that, although this missile seems to have a conscience, it cannot alter its course.

Lawrence Radecker performs an eerie monologue in
The Book of Mima (Photo by: David Allen)

The world premiere of The Basement (a political drama by Turkish-Kurdish writer and filmmaker Mustafa Kaymak, directed by Michael French) was more notable for the bloody body bags being dragged across the stage by an anonymous soldier (Ali-Moosa Mirza) than the bureaucratic stonewalling of a Kurdish journalist named Ayca (Amitis Rossoukh) by a police Lieutenant (Lawrence Radecker) who is all bluff and bluster. When the tables are turned on him and Ayca becomes judge, jury, and probable executioner, the Lieutenant claims to have “just been following orders.”

Amitis Rossoukh (Ayca) and Lawrence Radecker (Lieutenant)
in a scene from The Basement (Photo by: David Allen)

The world premiere of Palestinian-American playwright Betty Shamieh's strange two-hander entitled An Echo of Laughter (also directed by Michael French) features Sofia Ahmad as a Palestinian teacher who has gotten into trouble with the authorities after attempting to teach The Diary of Anne Frank to her pupils in Bethlehem. Originally commissioned by the Landestheater Linz in Linz, Austria, the story is based on the experience of the playwright’s distant cousin, whose students transformed their diaries into a play called Our Diaries Through the Wall (which they performed at the 2005 Edinburgh Fringe Festival). Lawrence Radecker appears as a leering, chuckling, and ghoulish Adolf Hitler who eavesdrops on the teacher's regrets that today's world won't be the least bit interested in diaries written by children in the Middle East.

Poster art for the 2019 ReOrient Festival of Short Plays
(Photos by: Jesse Sutterley)

I was less impressed by Noor and Hadi Go to Hogwarts (a short play by the Artistic Director of Noor Theatre, Lameece Issaq, and directed by Rebecca Novick) which depicts two terrified and exhausted Syrian children who have become hopelessly trapped in a Middle Eastern war zone. Against all odds, they cling to a thread of hope as 10-year-old Noor (Sofia Ahmad) reads a passage from one of J.K. Rowling’s novels to the dying eight-year-old Hadi (Ali-Moosa Mirza).

Ali-Moosa Mirza (Hadi) and Sofia Ahmad (Noor) portray two
children in Noor and Hadi Go To Hogwarts (Photo by: David Allen)

I also had mixed feelings about Iranian-American writer Niku Sharei's absurdist fantasy entitled In Spenglic. Directed by Lisa Marie Rollins, this world premiere toed the line between a Conehead-inspired satire and a Twilight Zone nightmare. Set in the fictional nation of Spenglia, it followed a new immigrant named Meetoo (Sofia Ahmad) who must learn how to assimilate into a bizarre corporate culture where, in order to retain healthcare insurance for herself and her child, she must agree to relinquish her identity to a fickle corporation.

Along with co-workers, KellA (Atosa Babaoff) and ShelB (Amitia Rossoukh), Meetoo's predicament bears an uncanny resemblance to that of so many independent contractors driving for ride share companies like Uber and Lyft who struggle to survive despite a keen awareness that a corporation would ditch them in the blink of an eye if they could be replaced by autonomous vehicles that don’t require employee benefits. While Sharei’s satire benefited immensely from Atosa Babaoff’s performance, her script needs some careful pruning.

Performances of the 2019 Re-Orient Festival of Short Plays continue through November 17 at the Potrero Stage (click here for tickets).

When You Least Expect It

Many people can point to a moment that changed their lives. Whether it was the day they met their true love, received an AIDS diagnosis, or witnessed the birth of their first child, that moment brought a clarity to their lives they might have previously lacked. For some of us, historical events (ranging from the assassinations of such beloved figures as President John F. Kennedy and the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., to Harvey Milk) also fit that description.

Many a life-changing moment has been memorialized in song. Consider these gems from such legendary Broadway songwriters as Rodgers & Hammerstein, Jule Styne, Cole Porter, Frank Loesser, and Jerry Herman:










Fortunately for writers, life is filled with surprises. When formulaic rom-coms start to make romance seem too vanilla, it never hurts to imagine life outside one's comfort zone. Whether someone gets targeted by Cupid's arrow or discovers that they're in the crosshairs of a national crisis, happiness is never guaranteed.

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If you're looking for some fresh faces, a different twist on the classic rom-com, and a love story that, unlike Romeo and Juliet, has a happy ending, I heartily recommend Bangla, a wistful farce starring and directed by young Phaim Bhuiyan (who co-wrote the screenplay with Vanessa Picciarelli). The setup is pretty simple.

Poster art for Bangla

Phaim is a 22-year-old Italian-Bangladeshi virgin who lives with his parents in Rome's multi-ethnic Torpignattara neighborhood. His father arrived in Italy with hardly any money but managed to build a successful retail business which he eventually hopes to turn over to his gangly son (who resembles a dark-skinned Bob Denver from Gilligan's Island). Phaim's family lives in an area he describes as being populated by three tribes of people: old Italians, migrants, and hipsters. Unable to talk to his immigrant parents about love, sex, and women, Phaim gets most of his advice from his close friend Matteo (Simone Liberati), who deals drugs from a local park bench.

Phaim Bhuiyan is the star, director, and co-writer of Bangla

The fact that, as a Muslim, Phaim is not allowed to drink alcohol, eat pork, or have sexual relations before marriage (he is also expected to abstain from masturbation) leaves him extremely frustrated and bored with his job as a museum guard. His erotic daydreams include a sequence in which he is a pizza delivery boy who, in the course of a day's work, makes a delivery to a woman who can't seem to find her wallet. As she opens her blouse, suggesting that perhaps she could settle the bill in a more creative fashion, Phaim wakes up only find himself in his bed at home.

Phaim Bhuiyan is the star, director, and co-writer of Bangla

One night, just prior to going onstage in a small club to perform with his band, Phaim chats with an intriguing young Italian woman who seems way out of his league. Although their initial encounter is awkward, he doesn't dare bring her home to meet his family, who expect him to marry "a nice Bangladeshi girl."

Phaim Bhuiyan and Carlotta Antonelli in a scene from Bangla

When Asia (Carlotta Antonelli) invites Phaim to join her family for dinner, he is shocked to see a food fight erupt during one of the family's exuberant arguments. Later, when she invites him to meet two of her close girlfriends, Lavinia (Nina Pons) and Flaminia (Lavinia Andolina), Asia encounters a former work colleague named Ivan (Damian Ghimp) who has just returned from Australia. Seeing how easily they interact makes Phaim jealous enough to nervously start sipping from an alcoholic drink handed to him by one of Asia's friends. Complications quickly ensue.

Carlotta Antonelli (Asia) and Phaim Bhuiyan in a scene from Bangla

Just when it seems as if Phaim and Asia are starting to make some progress, Phaim's father announces that he is moving the family to London to help out a distant relative. The news leads Phaim on a desperate race through Rome to find Asia. Bhuiyan delivers an appealingly dorky and dark-skinned romantic figure while Antonelli shines as a liberated woman with mischief in her soul. Filmed in Italian and Bengali with English subtitles, Bangla is a surprisingly delightful low budget, cross-cultural rom-com being screened at the upcoming Third i Film Festival. Here's the trailer:

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The Shotgun Players recently unveiled their production of Sheila Callaghan's intensely challenging and provocative rom-com entitled Elevada with the following clarification:

“Elevada was first produced in 2015 as a commission from Yale Rep. Sheila came to Berkeley recently to workshop the play with the cast and director, Susannah Martin, presenting us with a new draft right as we began rehearsal. She has continued to collaborate and rework the play from top to bottom throughout the process. While this is technically the third production of Elevada, it is the first showing of this brand new version.”

Wes Gabrillo (Khalil) and Sango Tajima (Ramona) in
a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

Few rom-coms are written for a quartet of actors and a 10-dancer tango ensemble (consisting here of Ebony Araman, Jonas Aquino, Xiaomin Jiang, Andy Collins, Maggie Kelley Connard, Jason Torres Hancock, Paul Melish, Mimu Tsujimura, Jessica Uher, and Quinci Waller). Nor does the dating game typically include a snap decision to learn pole dancing, a tense barbecue where nobody has a good time, a romantic lead wearing an implanted chemotherapy port, and a former drug addict having an emotional meltdown after discovering there is no almond milk left in his refrigerator. But as Susannah Martin explains in her program note:

“Sheila Callaghan is a rock star theatre-maker who captures the beauty and terror of falling in love, how our trauma shapes us and transforms how we love. Her plays are simultaneously meta-theatrical, intimate, structure-bending, genre-straddling, hysterically funny, and deeply human. Leave it to Callaghan to create a rom-com with magical moments, identity branding, avatars, addiction, and cancer treatment. I know from my own experience that cancer treatment is also about existing in a liminal space (you don’t know if the treatment is going to work or if you’re going to live or die). I felt so altered, so not in my body during treatment that, throughout the grueling process, I often felt like I was floating and falling simultaneously.”

Sango Tajima co-stars as Ramona in Elevada
(Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

“In 2018, I had the honor of directing Shotgun’s production of the incendiary, profane, hysterical, and fiercely feminist Women Laughing Alone With Salad. As I launched into pre-production for Elevada, I was reminded that when we fall in love, we are plunged into a liminal space. We never know if taking the proverbial leap into intimacy is going to work. We don’t know if we’re going to fall flat on our faces or how it’s going to end. We don’t know anything other than what we feel -- and sometimes we don’t even know that. So why direct a rom-com in these perilous times? At any time (let alone in times like these) it’s a risk to love, to fall in love, to reach out despite -- or in the midst of -- your own personal traumas. To love is an act of activism and hope. And thus, making theatre about love, about falling in love despite the wounds we face in ourselves, our loved ones, and our world, is my direct action for these times.”

Sango Tajima co-stars as Ramona in Elevada
(Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

While Elevada may stretch the limits of its audience's imagination, by the end of the play theatregoers will be rooting for its unlikely lovers as well as their feisty sidekicks. First, however, I strongly recommend checking out the Tumblr page created by the "real-life" Internet activist named Kenyatta Cheese (who inspired the character of Khalil). His description of the Project for Corporate Personhood reads as follows:

“The American Supreme Court and some politicians have declared that corporations should be treated as persons. So what happens when a person voluntarily assigns their personhood to a corporation? Can it be used to raise awareness of the issue of corporate personhood and create spectacle in the process? Kenyatta Cheese (creator of Know Your Meme, an artist, an activist, and a person) will sell the exclusive use of his name to a corporation for a period of three months. That corporation will assume both the real world and online identity of ‘Kenyatta Cheese,’ re-imagining his personhood as a brand with the help of ethnographers, lawyers, focus groups, public relations departments, a creative agency, and friends and acquaintances. During this period, Kenyatta (the person) will not be able to use his name except in the case of emergencies and air travel.”  

Wes Gabrillo co-stars as Khalil in Elevada
(Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

“The Project for Corporate Personhood (aka Kenyatta Co) is a three-month performance that explores the topics of ‘corporate personhood’ and personal identity. Kenyatta Cheese is doing this project for a few reasons. He became fascinated with the political and philosophical debate around ‘corporate personhood’ while setting up his own corporate entities. He also thinks a lot about the intersection of the quantified self and singularity theory. Also, as the only person in the world with the name ‘Kenyatta Cheese,’ he always thought there was probably an interesting project to be done with identity.”

Corporate avatars become a nightmarish challenge in
a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

After Khalil (Wes Gabrillo) rescued Owen (Soren Santos) from a near-fatal drug overdose, the two men became close friends and moved in together. Realizing that his socially-challenged roommate (a notorious but good-hearted hacker/provocateur whose pathetic attempts to express his feelings sound more like the code he writes as a programmer) needed help, Owen used his writing skills to craft an appealing profile for Khalil to use on a dating website. After answering Khalil's personal ad, Ramona (Sango Tajima) agreed to meet up with him for a glass of wine.

Wes Gabrillo (Khalil) and Soren Santos (Owen) in
a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

Having never been on an Internet date, Khalil is understandably nervous and awkward whereas Ramona seems surprisingly calm, collected and curious to learn who he is and what he does. She's certainly more open to taking romantic risks than her control freak older sister who took on the role of the family caregiver when their mother was dying. June (Karen Offereins) has resumed that burden -- as well as its emotional baggage -- as Ramona battles non-Hodgkin lymphoma. The kind of woman who tries to micro-manage other peoples' decisions, June's attempts at getting a date with a man border on a passive-aggressive form of stalking with a zero return on her hefty emotional investment.

Sango Tajima (Ramona) and Karen Offereins (June)
in a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

When Khalil realizes that he's experiencing warm feelings for a woman who doesn't mind his quirks and insecurities, he also learns that Ramona is battling cancer. At the very same moment he is busily engineering his own "disappearance," he's suddenly faced with the challenge of caring for the first person he has ever truly wanted. Meanwhile, Ramona is trying to cope with her medical regimen, June's well-intentioned bullying, and the fact that she is living on borrowed time.

Sango Tajima (Ramona) and Karen Offereins (June) in
a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

Working on an intriguingly fluid set designed by Mikiko Uesugi (with video by Erin Gilley, lighting by Cassie Barnes, and choreography by Natalie Greene), Callaghan's rom-com often resembles a political thriller as two recently-met lovers are forced to undergo a crash course in self awareness under increasing pressure from their looming medical and political deadlines.

In order to avoid too many spoilers, let's just say that Callaghan and Martin (with help from costume designer Alice Ruiz and sound designer Matt Stines) do an impressive job of building suspense and seducing audiences into suspending their sense of disbelief when faced with a choice that says "The rocket's leaving in 10 minutes with no guarantee of what may happen. Do you want to be on it or would you prefer to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened?"

Sango Tajima (Ramona) and Wes Gabrillo (Khalil) in
a scene from Elevada (Photo by: Robbie Sweeny)

Callaghan's play will resonate strongly with risk takers while more cautious souls may find themselves squirming during the drama's tense moments. Thankfully, the romantic leads are strongly drawn, the plotting is impressive, the laughs keep landing, the acting is superb, and the dramatic payoff delivers a refreshing twist on the rom-com genre.

Performances of Elevada continue through November 17 at the Shotgun Players (click here for tickets). Here's the trailer:

These Ain't Your Grandmother's Lesbian Friends

One of the most frequent quotes invoked by President Barack Obama came from the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.: "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Despite years of social progress for many groups that had traditionally been kept in the shadows by mass media, during the Obama administration the media became much more responsible about focusing on issues that affect minorities -- from veterans and African Americans to Native Americans and the disabled.

One minority group which enjoyed a noticeable acceleration in its political progress along the path to obtaining civil rights was the LGBT community. From same-sex marriage to an awareness of homophobic bullying, from the end of the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy to President Obama's statements about the need to end the loathsome practice of conversion therapies for gay youth, there was a steady improvement in the recognition and understanding of LGBT issues.

With the Trump administration filled with rabidly homophobic Evangelicals like Vice-President Mike Pence and white supremacists like Stephen Miller, continued attempts to encode discrimination against LGBT people through state RFRA laws has generated media storms with some surprising results. That's why it is so important to constantly be reminded of the famous quote from Harvey Milk "You gotta give them hope."


For those who lived through a half century of the LGBT civil rights movement, it's sobering to look at the theatrical literature that has evolved since gay men, lesbians, and trans people started coming out. A quick sampling of important gay plays includes:

• Fortune and Men's Eyes by John Herbert (1967).
• The Boys in the Band by Mart Crowley (1968).
• The Ritz by Terrence McNally (1975).
• Crimes Against Nature: A Play By Faggots About Survival by the Gay Men's Theater Collective (1977).
• Last Summer at Bluefish Cove by Jane Chambers (1980).
• The Normal Heart by Larry Kramer (1985).
• Falsettos by James Lapine and William Finn (1992).
• Angels in America by Tony Kushner (1993).
• Love! Valour! Compassion! by Terrence McNally (1994).
• Corpus Christi by Terrence McNally (1998).
• Southern Baptist Sissies by Del Shores (2000).
• The Men From The Boys by Mart Crowley (2002).
• Some Men by Terrence McNally (2006).
• Casa Valentina by Harvey Fierstein (2014).
• The Legend of Georgia McBride by Matthew Lopez (2014).
• The View UpStairs by Max Vernon (2017).
• The Inheritance by Matthew Lopez (2018).

Those who have survived the AIDS crisis, fagbashings, substance abuse, and depression won't have much trouble noticing that many of these plays involve a group of gay men whose social lives are connected by a common thread. That thread may be their sexuality, their social history, their volunteerism, or the psychological wounds they have suffered from the hyperreligious people in their lives. Most often, their common thread is the need for a safe place to meet up with others like themselves.

Sometimes they meet in one man's apartment, a couple's private home, a bathhouse, or a rented vacation spot. Sometimes the event involves a birthday party or a chance to cross dress for an entire weekend. Some dramas commemorate the struggles the gay community faced in the early years of the AIDS epidemic or the night a group of gay men met their death when an arsonist torched a popular gay bar in New Orleans.

In August of 2018, San Francisco's Left Coast Theatre Company presented the world premiere of Come Here Often, an intriguing drama co-written by Erica Andracchio, Terry Maloney Haley, Neil Higgins, Rita Long, and Chris Maltby. While many colorful characters are on deck throughout the play, the protagonist is not human. Instead, it is a gay bar in the Castro named The Parlour which has withstood the ravages of time and, if all goes well, will celebrate its 50th anniversary in the not too distant future.

Over several decades, The Parlour has served as a drinking hole, living room, pick-up joint, and "home away from home" for gay men and lesbians who arrive in San Francisco hoping to start their lives anew. Unlike Cheers, The Parlour may not be the place where everyone knows your name. But it is a safe and welcoming haven for those who have been rejected for much of their lives.
Come Here Often used a curious gimmick to anchor the bar's importance in San Francisco's LGBT community by setting the action in three different decades.

• In the summer of 1978, San Francisco was still celebrating the historic election of Harvey Milk as the first openly-gay member of the city and county's Board of Supervisors. Castro Street was flooded with new arrivals in town eager to live in a city where gays were not reviled and there was hope for a brighter future. However, by year's end, Milk had been assassinated by Supervisor Dan White, forever changing the course of LGBT history.
• By 1998 (nearly a year after Ellen DeGeneres made headlines by coming out of the closet on her television show), many gay people were struggling with depression. On October 6, Matthew Shepard was beaten and left to die on a fence outside of Laramie, Wyoming. For those who survived the early years of the HIV/AIDS crisis and, thanks to new drug regimens, were living with a "manageable disease," Shepard's brutal murder was a devastating reminder of what could happen to LGBT people who live in small towns.
• By 2018, same-sex marriage had been legalized by the United States Supreme Court but, following the election of Donald Trump, the social and political advances made by LGBT people began experiencing increased pushback along with homophobic acts of violence that had the potential to force many people back into closeted lifestyles. In an era of heightened sensitivity to political correctness, The Parlour's owner/bartender made it a point not to discriminate against anyone who entered the premises.

While most LGBT plays focus on gay men, as part of its Sandbox Series for New Works the San Francisco Playhouse recently presented the world premiere of Patricia Cotter's new drama entitled The Daughters. Directed by Jessica Holt, the play's two acts are separated by more than a half century. As the company's artistic director, Bill English, notes on SFP's blog:

“The Daughters strikes an absolute bullseye in our Empathy Gym. It is a play we simply had to do, not only because it takes us into the lives and hearts of women under-represented in the theatre, but because it is an essential San Francisco story. Like King of the Yees last season, it brings us closer to ourselves and our great city. The title comes from the Daughters of Bilitis, the first lesbian civil and political rights organization in the U.S. and the courageous women who came together on a fateful night at the apartment of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon. Facing the fears that had previously isolated them and also the very real physical dangers of assembly, they had to learn how to speak to each other, to build language that addressed their common concerns, and forge a consensus around their common cause.”

Evelyn (Olivia Levine), Mal (Katie Rubin), Griff (Molly Shaiken),
Shorty (Em Lee Reaves), and Peggy (Erin Anderson) meet
for the first time in 1955 in a scene from The Daughters
(Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

“Another exciting facet of The Daughters is that it spans 60 years from the first meeting of the DOB to the closing night of The Lexington Club, the last lesbian bar in San Francisco. It is an epic journey of beginnings and endings. From the search for a safe place to gather, to a time when a different sanctuary was no longer viable. Was the closing of the Lexington a loss? A sign of positive change to a more open society where queer women were free to assemble in more openly integrated spaces? There is certainly no simple answer, but as we watch this eloquent San Francisco odyssey, we are grateful to Patricia Cotter for telling this complex and essential story with compassion and wit. As a straight male with no previous understanding of what these struggles were, I am deeply moved by the way these pioneer women faced down the repression that kept them apart and in the dark, and brought their common cause into the light where they could share their sisterhood.”

Leslie (Jeunée Simon), Gina (Katie Rubin), and Natalie (Erin
Anderson) attend the 2015 closing night of The Lexington Club
in a scene from The Daughters (Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

Businesses shut down for numerous reasons (the popular local lesbian bar named Maud's closed in 1989). San Francisco is currently seeing many vacant storefronts as a result of prohibitive rent increases on commercial properties. Small family businesses like Lucca Ravioli often reach a point where the owners are nearing retirement and have realized that it is in their best interest to sell the property rather than bequeath their family business to a younger generation.

No one should underestimate the effect of computer technology on our lives. Over the past 10 years Amazon has done a stunning job of driving independent book and record stores out of business. Yelp and other websites that facilitate ordering food from restaurants have taken a similar toll on profit margins in cities across America. Ride share services like Uber and Lyft have peeled passengers away from public transit as well as the taxicab industry. As any accountant will tell you: the numbers don't lie.

Articles have recently appeared citing the closures of popular gay bars in cities like New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. In some ways, what Amazon has done to retail, the hookup culture made possible by social media apps like Grindr and Scruff has done to dating. It is now just as as easy to have a sex partner delivered to one's doorstep as a pizza. The result? The bulk of a specialty business's sales have evaporated from bars like The Lexington Club, that have long been considered community institutions.

Griff (Molly Shaiken), Evelyn (Olivia Levine), Vivian (Jeunée Simon),
Shorty (Em Lee Reaves), Mal (Katie Rubin), and Peggy (Erin Anderson)
in a scene from Act I of The Daughters (Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

Act I of The Daughters is set in 1955 when, for many LGBT people, the threat of physical violence (from the police or ordinary people) was a given. The simple act of advertising a meeting in a private home could draw the wrong crowd, which is why the use of code words was as important then as safe passwords are for browsing the Internet today (The Queens' Vernacular: A Gay Lexicon and Gay Talk: A Sometimes Outrageous Dictionary of Gay Slang by Bruce Rodgers have become historic LGBT resources).

As The Daughters begins, Peggy (Erin Anderson) and her lover, Mal (Martha Brigham), nervously await the appearance of the few brave lesbians willing to answer their ad. Over the course of a somewhat awkward evening, they welcome the skittish Evelyn (Olivia Levine), a black journalist named Vivian (Jeunée Simon) who lives in New York with a gay man in a marriage of convenience, and two butch women -- Shorty (Em Lee Reaves) and Griff (Molly Shaiken) -- who arrive dressed as men carrying suitcases that contain their female clothing. As was common at the time, the second bedroom in the home is set up as if Peggy and Mal were merely roommates; going out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette risks exposure to nosy neighbors, and the simple act of going to a corner bodega to purchase some wine could invite unnecessary danger.

Evelyn (Olivia Levine), Peggy (Erin Anderson) and Shorty
(Em Lee Reaves) in a scene from The Daughters
(Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

As a gay man, watching Act I often felt like seeing life in a parallel universe as lesbians went through the same struggles as gay men to embrace their identity and find the strength to define themselves. As a member of the Rhode Island Gay Alliance in the early 1970s, I was one of the few people in that group who was willing to go out on speaking dates (most members were severely closeted, had no interest in movement politics, demonstrated little desire to discuss gay theory, and were far more focused on getting laid).

Watching the determined efforts of a true believer like Mal to run a serious organizational meeting brought back memories of what it was like trying to get local queers (as well as students from Brown University, Providence College, and the Rhode Island School of Design) interested in politics when all they really wanted was a place other than the downtown bars where they could cruise and dance.

Leslie (Jeunée Simon), Gina (Katie Rubin), and Natalie (Erin
Anderson) attend the 2015 closing night of The Lexington Club
in a scene from The Daughters (Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

Act II of The Daughters zooms forward to 2015 when computers, social progress, and looser lifestyles have made the need for many women to self-identify as lesbians somewhat questionable. Among the women celebrating the closing night of The Lexington Club are Ani (Olivia Levine), who prefers to think of herself as genderqueer; Leslie (Jeunée Simon), an old-fashioned femme lesbian who misses the way she used to be treated by butch dykes; Natalie (Erin Anderson), a college professor who turns out to have once had Ani as a student; and Gina (Martha Brigham), Natalie's partner who has never quite gotten over the loss of her previous love, who transitioned into a trans man. When Jefferson (Molly Shaiken) arrives at the bar, hoping for a chance to make amends with Gina, her passion is still quite volatile although Jefferson now has a much better grasp on who he is and why.

Jefferson (Molly Shaiken), Leslie (Jeunée Simon), Natalie
(Erin Anderson), and Gina (Katie Rubin) celebrate the closing
of the Lexington Club in a scene from The Daughters
(Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

With costumes by Chanterelle Grover, sound design by Lana Palmer, lighting by Chris Lundahl, and scenic design by Randy Wong-Westbrooke, Jessica Holt has done some impressive work with San Francisco Playhouse's tightly-knit ensemble. A special shout-out goes to the talented Martha Brigham (one of the Bay area's strongest and most chameleon-like actors), who stepped in on short notice to replace the woman originally scheduled to portray Mal and Gina after Katie Rubin was injured. Erin Anderson brought a sweet sense of a mature woman with plenty of acquired wisdom to her portrayals of Peggy and Natalie and, as is so often the case on Bay area stages, Jeunée Simon was a riveting presence doubling as Vivian and Leslie.

Leslie (Jeunée Simon) wins the wet T-Shirt contest on the closing
night of the Lexington Club in a scene from The Daughters
(Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

To my surprise, the two actors who most impressed Molly Shaiken (doubling as Griff and Jefferson) and Em Lee Reaves (who doubled as Shorty and, in Act II, a butch bartender named Spike). Patricia Cotter's script is filled with zingers as well as some extremely poignant moments -- most notably Act II's aching confrontation between Jefferson and Gina. While I thoroughly enjoyed the opening night performance of The Daughters, the waves of enthusiastic support coming from a heavily female audience added a breath of fresh air to the evening.

Spike (Em Lee Reaves, center) gets ready to perform as Gina \
(Katie Rubin) and Ani (Olivia Levine) look on in Act II of
The Daughters (Photo by: Jessica Palopoli)

Performances of The Daughters continue through November 2 at the Creativity Theatre (click here for tickets).