Monday, March 23, 2020

In Search Of Authenticity and Accountability

Many people first became aware of "gaslighting" when they watched a 1944 film directed by George Cukor that starred Charles Boyer, Ingrid Bergman, Joseph Cotten and a promising teenager named Angela Lansbury. A psychological thriller of the first order, Gaslight told the story of a husband who slyly kept manipulating his wife in an attempt to drive her crazy. A more laughable version of gaslighting can be seen in this scene from 1933's Duck Soup that features Groucho Marx, Chico Marx, and Margaret Dumont.


When people become so confused that it cannot determine who is telling the truth -- or what the truth actually is -- they find themselves in very dangerous territory. They could be dealing with a set of gay twins (as in Identical by Jason Collins) or being duped by their government in George Orwell's classic, Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Unfortunately, as our world struggles to gain control of a growing pandemic, Americans have lost critical time and resources at the hands of a pathological malignant narcissist who has managed to intimidate legislators and undermine the media's credibility. In the midst of wading through conflicting reports about the global public health crisis, I heartily recommend reading the following three articles:
As big business demands government bailouts, most families and small businesses feel as if they are being left high and dry by a petrified, putrescent President who only cares about his ratings, his re-election, and his reputation. Where does that leave the rest of us? The answers can be found in two songs from 1965's The Roar of the Greasepaint-The Smell of the Crowd.




Prior to performances being cancelled in the Bay area, I attended two productions which were clearly focused on questions of transparency and authenticity. One took place within a strictly heterosexual milieu. The other followed the growth and development of a young tomboy who evolved into a butch black transman. Yet each story dealt with people wrestling with how to define themselves on their own terms. Surprisingly, the path to acceptance may have led to greater peace of mind for the person who had felt like a misfit for a long, long time.

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Earlier this month I had a chance to savor the kind of theatrical experience one dreams about -- a riveting encounter with a gifted artist who has a unique story to tell. TheatreFIRST was presenting two such monologues as part of its series entitled "History Keeps Me Awake: Queer Voices in Rep." Although I was unable to attend a performance of Elaine Magree's PussyGrabbingREVENGE, A One Man Show written and performed by Skyler Cooper (with dramaturgy by Lisa Evans) delivered a solid 70 minutes of deeply personal and theatrical magic.

Skyler Cooper in A One Man Show

An intense and mercurial performer, Skyler grew up as the daughter of a Baptist minister. Afraid to tell her parents that she didn't believe in God (or that she was attracted to girls), she desperately wished to become a man. The untimely death of Cooper's mother provided an unusual catalyst for the kind of introspection and inquisitiveness that propelled the budding artist down a unique path toward self-realization.
“My artistic endeavors have inspired an incredible course of self-awareness, self-love, and ongoing self-discovery. My life experience has sharpened my gift to relate to many different people as an actor, producer, director, and human. I’ve been gender neutral for most of my life and much of my work as an actor. The foundation of this show was built on four walls (faith, sexuality, gender, and race) that I determined had to be torn down in order for me to thrive. I’ve accepted both ‘He’ and ‘She’ pronouns in the world for a very long time. It is time for me to make all of me (mind, body, and spirit) congruent with my world.”
Artist-activist Skyler Cooper
“Being transgender is a reflective journey for me. I know that, as a black American transgender veteran, my quality of life is at stake. Any marginalized group (such as people of color, women, the LGBTQ community, or non-Christians) will share in these concerns. As I launch my website as a transgender person, I identify as ‘He’ and with masculine pronouns. It is not possible to separate my work in the past as an actor from my current work as a writer, director, and producer: I proudly build on it. I am ready to take the stage, the screen, and the world as the next gender-ation filmmaker. Our humanity is very important to me and I will fight for it as long as I live.”
Artist-activist Skyler Cooper

As Cooper proceeded to describe his evolution from a young girl to a proud member of the military and a dedicated bodybuilder, I was fascinated to watch how he was able to capture the wide-eyed enthusiasm of an adolescent in the throes of self-discovery as well as the growing comfort and confidence of understanding a powerful new identity as a "Black Butch" who was fully at home in his own body. A special shout-out goes to Domenique Lozano, whose sensitive and intelligent stage direction was a role model for what can be done to showcase a remarkable artist whose unique talents know no bounds. If and when a chance to see Cooper perform onstage or in film comes your way, grab it!

Artist-activist Skyler Cooper

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Over in Mill Valley, the Marin Theatre Company recently presented the world premiere of Love, a new drama by Kate Cortesi set in New York City between 2013 and 2018. Directed by Mike Donahue (with lighting by Scott Zielinski, costumes by Katherine Nowacki, and sound design by Madeleine Oldham), Cortesi's drama arrives at a curious moment in the #MeToo movement.

Clea Alsip (Penelope) stars in Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

With Harvey Weinstein having recently been sentenced to 23 years in prison and diagnosed with coronavirus following his brief spa retreat on Rikers Island (see "Covid-19 Claims Harvey Weinstein Consented To Infection"), one might think that the case was finally closed against an abusive sexual predator who still claims to have been woefully misunderstood. Cortesi, however, wanted to take a different approach to writing a play about the #MeToo movement. As she explains:
“My leads are generally big, messy, and bold female characters who take up space. The experiences I kept mulling over in the wake of the 2017 revelations did not involve the most obvious violations. I kept thinking about relationships (romantic and not) that lived in a grayer area of power, consent, inappropriateness, and attraction. Within one relationship I might feel powerful one minute and disposable the next. Inappropriateness could feel wonderful and then turn unsettling, and wrong. Moral confusion makes for great theatre, no?”
R. Ward Duffy (Otis) and Clea Alsip (Penelope) in a
moment from Love that could easily be taken out of context
 (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)
“This play [Love] began as a rant of mine to a friend at a bar. I was complaining about the lack of nuance in #MeToo stories onstage. I wanted to see a story about a man who abused his power but who we also love (because it’s not just ‘bad men’ we’re going through this with). My girlfriends and I marveled at how reflexively we played along with certain behavioral dynamics but we had to acknowledge what had appealed to us about it all, too. We did a lot of collective soul searching that went far beyond identifying monsters. It was confusing and unflattering at times, but very rich. Love is an expression of that soul searching. We have to go through these reckonings with good men, wonderful men.”
R. Ward Duffy (Otis) and Clea Alsip (Penelope) in
a scene from Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

Cortesi's protagonist is a surgeon named Penelope (Clea Alsip) who, prior to entering medical school, opted to spend take a year away from academia by working at a job free from the intense stressors she expected to encounter during her professional training. The man who hired her, Otis (R. Ward Duffy), turned out to be an extremely likable boss whose laid back personality made him seem like a New-Age empath. The play begins as Ron (Robert Sicular), a reporter at The New York Times, is trying to persuade Penelope to join with several other women who worked for Otis and, though they slept with him and liked him a lot, now feel that he abused his power over them as an employer.

Clea Alsip (Penelope) and Bobak Cyrus Bakhtiari (Jaime)
in a scene from Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

Penelope's initial reaction is to say "Thanks, but no thanks." She considers Otis to be a good friend and, now that she is happily married to Jaime (Bobak Cyrus Bakhtiari) and the mother of two children, does not feel compelled to revisit the time she spent as Otis's executive assistant and lover. Before leaving Ron's office, Penelope tells the reporter "Without me, you don't have a story."

Robert Sicular (Ken) and Clea Alsip (Penelope) in
a scene from Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

By the end of the evening I was convinced that, without such a severely compromised female protagonist, Cortesi wouldn't have a play. Here's why:
  • Cortesi's script bounces back and forth over five years using a narrative technique that aims to fragment and then slowly peel away the layers of doubt in Penelope's mind about the nature of her relationship with Otis. However, if Love were to be staged with its scenes in chronological order, I'm pretty sure the audience's sympathies would lie with Otis rather than Penelope.
  • Stephanie Osin Cohen's scenic design keeps the stage action in a rather claustrophobic framework dominated by a huge black screen (almost as tall as the playing area) upon which Teddy Hulsker's projections of dates and locations for each scene appear. It doesn't take long for this gimmick to wear thin and begin to test the audience's patience.
  • At no point does Cortesi portray Otis as a violent or coercive man. Nor does he display any signs of grooming or predatory behavior. The sexual relationships he shares with Penelope and women who subsequently become his executive assistant appear to have been totally consensual. If, as a businessman, Otis is guilty of making bad decisions, they seem to be centered on hiring women who -- particularly in the cases of Vanessa (Rebecca Schweitzer) and Whitney (Mari Vial-Golden) -- are cartoonishly immature and unfit for the job.
Clea Alsip (Penelope) and Mari Vial-Golden (Whitney)
in a scene from Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

Part of Penelope's problem is that, when she confesses to her husband that she slept with Otis two nights before their wedding, she seems disappointed that Jaime doesn't fly into a rage or have any desire to punish her. He absorbs her revelation quietly, takes time to process what it means, and moves on. Since the couple now has two children (and Otis has married and grown devoted to his young son), Jaime seems more than willing to leave his wife's transgressions in the past. Nor does he show any anger when he encounters Otis in a bar (in fact, the two men easily start to bond).

Bobak Cyrus Bakhtiari (Jaime) and R. Ward Duffy (Otis)
in a scene from Love (Photo by: Alessandra Mello)

As the drama progresses, the audience learns that Penelope lied to get her job as Otis's executive assistant and, several years later, again slept with Otis when she decided to tell him that she had cooperated with the reporter from The New York Times. After shocking her friend by accusing Otis of sexual harassment, she demands that when the article is published, Otis explain to his young son that what he did to women is the reason his career has been destroyed. By the end of her confrontation, Penelope seems more furious that Otis's apology didn't contain the precise words and thoughts she had either hoped for or expected to hear. If anything, Cortesi paints Otis as a casual, well-intentioned lover while Penelope comes across as a naive prosecutor with a very weak case.

Though Cortesi's drama is clearly a work of fiction, it reminded me of the news story about comedian Aziz Ansari, whose date with a young woman did not go well after they returned to his apartment. When the story first broke, it seemed as if Ansari's date was writing the kind of Yelp review posted by a dissatisfied consumer. In a recent article entitled "Those Who Rightfully Celebrate Weinstein’s Conviction Should Not Ignore #MeToo’s Troubling Episodes," Cathy Young wrote:
"No doubt, achieving more accountability for high-status sexual predators and empowering women to speak out about abuse is a #MeToo gain. But those who rightfully celebrate Weinstein’s punishment should not ignore evidence that #MeToo has also brought forth more troubling episodes -- ones in which those accused of wrongdoing have had to contend with seemingly insurmountable presumptions of guilt and vague, subjective definitions of sexual misconduct. Although Weinstein is the emblematic #MeToo perpetrator (a man who coerced unwilling women through intimidation, manipulation, and sometimes force), other men have taken a fall over far more ambiguous allegations."
Rebecca Schweitzer (Vanessa), Clea Alsip (Penelope), and
Bobak Cyrus Bakhtiari (Jaime) in a scene from Love
(Photo by: Alessandra Mello)
"Very quickly after #MeToo emerged, the movement’s focus expanded from abuse of power in the workplace to a wider terrain of male misbehavior. But what does 'misbehavior' mean? Human interaction, intimate or professional, is often a tangled web. People routinely revise their memories, especially when a romance or friendship sours -- and when the personal becomes political. In a cultural moment that urges the reexamination of male-female dynamics through the lens of patriarchal oppression, a messy relationship can easily be reframed as one-sidedly abusive, and a reciprocal flirtation with a colleague can be recast as reluctantly tolerated sexual harassment. Disturbingly, even some accused men who are exonerated can remain in #MeToo’s shadow."
It took me a while to organize my thoughts about the giant red herring that keeps swimming through Cortesi's script. The bottom line is that, while sexual objectification can be an easy road to intimate moments of pleasure, it can also lead to inconvenient truths about meaningless and/or embarrassing moments from one's past. Following the sexual revolution of the 1960s, recreational sex became much more commonplace. Whether in swingers' clubs, pickup bars, or on dating apps like Tinder, straight men approached promiscuity as a sport based on hunting, seducing, and scoring points for each sexual conquest.

Gay men who grew up in a subculture where they, too, were often treated as "numbers" (or disposable sexual objects) by other men, found plenty of opportunities for casual sex in parks, orgy rooms, glory hole clubs, bathhouses, nude beaches, and back alleys. With social media having made it just as easy to order in a sexual partner as it is to order a pizza delivery, "seeing" the person inside a casual lover wasn't necessarily a consideration if neither party was looking for a heavy commitment.


From feisty females frequenting the bar scene to voracious cougars like Sex and the City's seemingly insatiable Samantha Jones, many women became as adept as men at playing the game of "Find them, feel them, fuck them, and forget them." So by the time Cortesi got around to Love's big reveal, I had no sympathy left for Penelope's history of clumsy judgments, guilty confessions, and delayed accusations.

Why not? In a key scene when Penelope attempts to train her replacement at Otis's company in what her job duties entail, Whitney is so obsessed with the chat messages on her smartphone (to which she reacts with the immaturity of a teenager) that it's obvious this woman is not cut out for the job. While the scene has some comic moments (especially when Otis arrives in Penelope's office with Whitney's father), any executive assistant in a gatekeeper position for a CEO would have told her boss not to hire an incompetent bimbo just because she might be entertaining.

But isn't that how we got Donald Trump as the 45th President of the United States?

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

They Knew What They Wanted

"'Curiouser and curiouser' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment, she quite forgot how to speak good English)." Lewis Carroll's famous words from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland have taken on new meaning as the world struggles to come to grips with a pandemic while a befuddled, babbling, belligerent baboon flings his feces across the Oval Office. With Donald Trump's misguided attempt to goose the stock market and reassure corporate America with the wit and wisdom of Jared Kushner and Stephen Miller, it's beginning to look as if the world has been turned upside down and inside out.

Calls for social distancing have caused theaters, opera companies, sports arenas, churches, colleges and many other organizations to cancel upcoming events. The tourism industry (hotels, airlines, cruise ships, restaurants, and convention centers) is experiencing a major financial crisis. Hand sanitizer has become as precious as diamonds and, for those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, life's cruelties seem sharper and ever more humiliating.


As fear of the coronavirus's spread through community contact gets ratcheted up, it's been interesting to note some of the reactions by people in the arts world. From Justin Davidson's piece in New York Magazine ("Close The Theaters. Close The Opera. Close The Concert Halls. Now. It’s A Brutal Economic Decision, But The Virus Doesn’t Care About Anyone’s Income") to a more thoughtful essay by Peter Marks in The Washington Post ("Theater Is A Haven But, With The Coronavirus, It’s Become An Incubator For Our Fears"), the risks and benefits of spending time pursuing a shared passion have come under close examination.

While many are beginning to feel overwhelmed with statistics and increasingly dire news reports that can exacerbate their fears, my friend Adria Firestone (a mezzo-soprano who was a fierce and fiery Carmen) offers some sound advice to help tame the inner torment with which some people are struggling.


Culture vultures can find solace in how new technology is allowing them to feed their souls without leaving their homes ("Metropolitan Opera, After Shutting Its Doors, Will Offer Free Streams From Live in HD Catalog," "Stuck at Home? These 12 Famous Museums Offer Virtual Tours You Can Take on Your Couch,"
"Vienna State Opera To Offer Daily Live Streams From Its Opera Archives"). Meanwhile, introverts can sit back and savor the irony of governments telling people to self quarantine and, if necessary, read a book.

For those who have always found themselves marching to a different drummer, there comes a time when ambition supersedes tradition. Whether in sports, politics, or the arts, creativity often requires thinking outside the box or clearing a new path to success. I heartily recommend watching Hillary Clinton's speech at a recent Women of Broadway event.


In many ways, the current health crisis has brought new meaning to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s phrase: "the fierce urgency of now." For those who never had a chance to watch Barbra Streisand's 1966 television special entitled Color Me Barbra, go to the 12:30 mark in the following video for a wonderful Peter Matz song entitled "Gotta Move."


Children are often asked what they would like to become when they grow up. Though parents and relatives hope that the answer might be a doctor, a concert pianist, a tennis pro, or a great singer, young minds are full of surprises. The child inspired by seeing someone do something exceptional may not attach a sense of gender to their concept of who is entitled to reach for the stars. Due to the historical moments in which their stories take place, some girls easily fit the stereotype of a tomboy.

A sense of desperation at being held back from one's destiny lies at the core of two powerful dramas briefly seen by Bay area audiences before local theatres were shut down and productions cancelled. Each focused like a laser on the challenges faced by American women determined to break through a particular glass ceiling. Though their achievements have largely been forgotten by history, their stories have recently been brought back to life on the stage. As a critic, I was grateful for a chance to see these shows. If and when they are produced at a theatre near you, I heartily recommend catching a performance.

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They Promised Her the Moon received workshop productions in TheatreWorks Silicon Valley’s New Works Festival and the Old Globe Theatre’s Powers New Voices Festival prior to its Off-Broadway premiere at the Miranda Theatre Company. In 2019, this riveting drama by Laurel Ollstein received its West Coast premiere from the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego and, earlier this month, was given its Northern California premiere by TheatreWorks Silicon Valley in Palo Alto.

Sarah Mitchell (Jerrie Cobb) and Dan Hiatt (Harvey Cobb) in a
scene from They Promised Her The Moon (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Ollstein's drama tells the story of Jerrie Cobb (Sarah Mitchell), who developed a lifelong fascination with flight at the age of 12 when her father gave Jerrie her first ride in his open cockpit 1936 Waco biplane. Four years later she was flying around the Midwest in a Piper J-3 Cub while distributing advertising leaflets for touring circuses. Born on March 5, 1931, Cobb earned her private pilot's license and commercial pilot's license soon after World War II ended. According to Wikipedia:
  • By age 19, the young aviator was teaching men how to fly.
  • At 21, she was delivering military fighter planes and four-engine bombers to foreign Air Forces worldwide.
  • With her career stymied by sex discrimination and the return of so many qualified male pilots after World War II, Jerrie found herself flying for less appealing jobs (patrolling pipelines and crop dusting).
  • While in her twenties, Cobb stunned the aviation industry by setting new world records for speed, distance, and absolute altitude.
  • Jerrie was the first woman to fly in the Paris Air Show (the world's largest air exposition), where her fellow airmen named her Pilot of the Year and awarded her the Amelia Earhart Gold Medal of Achievement.
  • By 1960, Cobb she had amassed 7,000 hours of flying time and held three world aviation records (the 1959 world record for nonstop long-distance flight, the 1959 world light-plane speed record, and the 1960 world altitude record for lightweight aircraft of 37,010 feet).
  • In 1960, LIFE Magazine cited Jerrie as “one of the 100 most influential women under 40" while stating that “it now appears inevitable that manned space flight will at some future date become coeducational.”
  • In May 1961, NASA Administrator James Webb appointed Cobb as a consultant to the NASA space program.
Sarah Mitchell stars as pioneering female aviator Jerrie Cobb
in They Promised Her The Moon (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Though inspired and encouraged by her father, Harvey Cobb (Dan Hiatt); her role model, Jackie Cochran (Stacy Ross); her employer, Jack Ford (Craig Marker); and Dr. William Randolph Lovelace II (Anthony Fusco), Jerrie's remarkable stamina, psychological determination, stunning list of achievements, and ability to test better than many male pilots caused her to collide with a heavily misogynistic federal bureaucracy that preferred to see women portrayed as homemakers rather than potential astronauts. As director Giovanna Sardelli explains:
“When I first encountered this play a few years ago, no one I asked had ever heard of Jerrie Cobb or Jackie Cochran (even though they were both world class, record-holding pilots who were matching and besting men on a regular basis). Why didn’t I know of them before? The first woman to break the sound barrier, Jackie was clever enough to know how to look well-behaved – or maybe it was well groomed -- and was as feisty as they come. In our play, she offers what was then thought sage advice to Jerrie when things weren’t going her way. She tells her ‘That door was shut, darlin’. I will find a window open down the line. You can be sure of that. But the door was shut and there’s no point scratching on it. It just irritates everyone.’ What must a woman do to find her rightful place in history and get a chance at herstory? Think of how much further along we’d be if a woman had been included in Project Mercury in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Just think of the conversations we could be having!”
Sarah Mitchell (Jerrie Cobb) and Stacy Ross (Jackie Cochran) in a
scene from They Promised Her The Moon (Photo by: Kevin Berne)
“Jerrie Cobb passed away on March 18, 2019, just before They Promised Her the Moon opened at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre. It seemed a tragedy that most people would not understand what the world lost on that day. I was grateful that playwright Laurel Ollstein had introduced me to this remarkable woman who was promised so much and given so little. Laurel has given Jerrie her rightful place in the legacy of space.”
Craig Marker (Jack Ford) and Sarah Mitchell (Jerrie Cobb) in a
scene from They Promised Her The Moon (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

With sets designed by Christopher Fitzer and costumes by Cathleen Edwards (along with lighting by Steven B. Mannshardt and sound design by Jane Shaw), this TheatreWorks Silicon Valley production benefited from a tightly-knit ensemble of versatile actors familiar to Bay area audiences (Craig Marker, Dan Hiatt, Anthony Fusco, and Stacy Ross). Luisa Sermol doubled as Jerrie's mother and a female reporter.

Sardelli is blessed to have one of the Bay area's most underrated artists in the lead role. While I have long admired Sarah Mitchell's work with Shotgun Players and the Aurora Theatre Company, Jerrie Cobb is a role that fits her like a glove, giving Mitchell a chance to bring her passion and wry intensity to the dramatic momentum that carries the show forward. If she gets another chance to star in a production of They Promised Her The Moon, you'll definitely want to catch her performance.

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Sarah Mitchell stars as pioneering female aviator Jerrie Cobb
in They Promised Her The Moon (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

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In 1992, when A League of Their Own was released, audiences were so thrilled by a film inspired by the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League that it was easy for many to ignore the "whiteness" of the story. Granted, it took place before April 15, 1947, when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in major league baseball after signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers (Robinson's professional career had begun in 1945 when he received an offer from the Kansas City Monarchs to play in baseball's Negro Leagues).

Originally commissioned and produced by the Roundabout Theatre Company in New York and Samantha Barrie, the world premiere of Lydia R. Diamond's action-packed baseball drama took place on June 20, 2019 at the Laura Pels Theatre. Directed by Pam MacKinnon (who also directed 2020's co-production between the Arena Stage in Washington, D.C. and San Francisco's American Conservatory Theater), Martha Ackmann's biography of Toni Stone (Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone, the First Woman to Play Professional Baseball in the Negro League) had been optioned by Barrie and MacKinnon, who recognized the story's dramatic potential. As MacKinnon explains:
“Toni (Dawn Ursula) tells her story her way (not always linearly) and the audience is kindly asked to keep up. The power dynamics of Black and white are very important to the story. This is an all Black American cast (which we don’t often see). A really important thing that’s very much written into Lydia’s play is that there are white characters who are played by Black actors. We kept on trying to find a simple but focused gesture to indicate that. The first time it happens, an actor takes off his baseball cap and then runs it across his face. In that moment, he turns from being a fellow teammate and becomes a white man. We take the time to do that (as opposed to it being a sleight of hand). We’re saying something when a Black American man plays a white man: What does it mean to turn white?”
Marquis D. Gibson (Jimmy) and Dawn Ursula  (Toni)
in a scene from Toni Stone (Photo by: Kevin Berne)
“More than a biopic, this is a play in at least 36 scenes. Perhaps a musical without music. It’s the story of a singular Black American woman who knew she was a baseball player -- a story of love and what comes between ambition and attainment, of emotional surprises, twists, compromises, learning, and transformation. We wanted her mind full of the game. In the Negro Leagues, there were a few teams that had the designation ‘clown’ (Toni played for the Indianapolis Clowns) and clowning was part of what they had to do. This was ticket-selling buffoonery.They had to perform. So we’re also looking back at American performance traditions (minstrel shows, the really ugly stuff) and constantly walking a line.”
The cast of Toni Stone (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Together with choreographer Camille A. Brown, MacKinnon has crafted a rapidly-paced show whose energy level comes close to matching that of The Scottsboro Boys. Working on an impressive unit set designed by Riccardo Hernández, with costumes by Dede M. Ayite, lighting by Allen Lee Hughes, and sound design and original music by Broken Chord, the production details Toni's compelling history as the first black woman to play professional baseball in the Negro League. In explaining some of the challenges she faced in adapting Toni's story for the stage, playwright Lydia R. Diamond notes that:
“Toni had rigor and a singular focus. Baseball is what she wanted to play, and she made it happen. Despite Jim Crow, institutional racism, and sexism, Toni fought to play ball with a tenacious, singular focus that didn’t leave room for being told what she couldn’t do. I fell in love with the image of this one Black woman surrounded by Black men. These men hold her up and support her in the telling of the story. When the team found themselves in towns without hotels for African Americans, women who worked in brothels would often put her up. Toni’s best friend, Millie, is an invention inspired by real relationships Toni had with sex workers (a character like Millie is not outside the realm of possibility).”
Kenn E. Head (Millie) and Dawn Ursula (Toni) in
a scene from Toni Stone (Photo by: Kevin Berne)
“There are two characters in my play who definitely existed and who I used aspects of: King Tut and Spec Bebop. King Tut was one of the most famous comedians in the Negro Leagues and Spec (who was a little person) was his sidekick. I also love that the ensemble members play a multitude of characters including women, children, and white people. Ultimately, this is a story about perseverance, bravery and reaching for what you want.”
Dawn Ursula stars in Toni Stone (Photo by: Kevin Berne)
While Dawn Ursula delivers a bravura performance in the title role, she is ably supported by an athletic ensemble of eight talented actors. Daniel J. Bryant draws easy laughs as the short but well-hung Spec, with Kenn E. Head nearly stealing the show as the empathetic Millie (who doesn't hesitate to tell the stubborn and insensitive Toni when she's wrong). Ray Shell portrays Toni's stoic businessman husband, Alberga (who shows his steel after another player threatens his wife), with JaBen Early as Richard "King Tut" King. Other members of the cast include Marquis D. Gibson as Jimmy, Rodney Earl Jackson, Jr. as Elzie, Sean-Maurice Lynch as Stretch, and Jarrod Smith as Woody.

Dawn Ursula (Toni) and Kenn E. Head (Millie) in
a scene from Toni Stone (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Like many nonprofit theatres, ACT was suddenly and severely impacted by the coronavirus crisis (after enjoying a thrilling opening night performance I awoke the next morning to discover that the production had been cancelled). The company's most recent communication offers an exciting opportunity for those who could not attend a live performance of Toni Stone:
"While the impact of COVID-19 is crippling to a nonprofit theater, theater has always provided an outlet for escape during times of uncertainty. Through a partnership with Actors Equity Association, Stage Directors & Choreographers Society, United Scenic Artists, Local USA 829, IATSE, and BroadwayHD, ACT has been able to set up a virtual streaming presentation of Toni Stone which will be available through March 29 at midnight. It is our hope that we can provide a few hours of enjoyment and inspiration while we, as a community, collectively weather this storm. As a result, we are asking ticket buyers to consider choosing a price point for themselves that feels generous, as well as financially accessible (keeping in mind the number of people in their household who will be watching the production)."
Click here for tickets.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Scribblers and Squabblers: Alive, Alive, Oh!

Let's not beat around the bush. Denial and stupidity are on the march in the United States. The sane and sound minds of Elizabeth Warren, Pete Buttigieg, Andrew Yang, Amy Klobuchar, Cory Booker, and Kamala Harris (who have all suspended their Presidential campaigns) are blessed with a respect for math and science as well as facts, expertise, and the rule of law. Watching them clearly articulate their thoughts offered a frightening contrast to such aggressively ignorant and pompously pious Republicans as Betsy DeVos, Ben Carson, Mike Pence, Matt Gaetz, Ted Cruz, Kevin McCarthy, Stephanie Grisham, Mike Pompeo, Louie Gohmert, and their cretinous capo, Donald Trump (I think we're gonna need a bigger clown car).

To explain how an idiot like Donald Trump, Jr. can redefine the concept of vanity publishing, one need only harken back to the early 1980s, when the dumbing down of America's educational system began to spread across the nation like a slowly-metastasizing cancer. Several years ago, when someone asked me why I kept reading such blatantly liberal rags as The New York Times, I replied that I really enjoyed some of the writers whose work they publish (see Ben Smith's timely article entitled "Why the Success of The New York Times May Be Bad News for Journalism"). The look of confusion on the man's face led to an easy confirmation that he got all of his information from the teevee.

Having greatly enjoyed Christopher Moore's bawdy send-up of King Lear (Fool) I recently finished reading The Two Gentlemen of Altona (the first book in the Playing The Fool series by Lisa Henry and J.A. Rock) and am looking forward to following the misadventures of Detective Ryan McGuinness and Henry Page (a Shakespeare-quoting grifter) in The Merchant of Death and Tempest.

In the past week I've been fortunate enough to attend four plays which allowed audiences to see the world through a woman's eyes (two were written by women, one by a gay man, and one by a transman). The curious alignment of these four performances climaxed (most appropriately) on International Women's Day. So without further ado, let's take a look at the two world premieres in the lineup.

* * * * * * * * *
As part of the first annual Bay Area Women’s Theatre Festival, San Francisco's
Custom Made Theatre and Those Women Productions are co-producing the world premiere of The Lady Scribblers, a delightful farce that has been gleefully directed by Tracy Ward on a low-budget unit set designed by Heather Kenyon (with costumes by Rachael Heiman and Brittany Mellerson in charge of lighting and sound design).

Written by Michaela Goldhaber (a playwright-director who returned to the Bay area more than a decade ago after suffering a stroke), The Lady Scribblers seems tailor-made for university theatre departments and community theater companies. With a cast of nine, it's a ribald romp and frolic based on real figures in 17th-century London's theatre scene, whose challenges mirror much of the misogyny rampant in today's society.

J. J. Van Name (Mary Pix) and Oluchi Nwokocha (Delarivier Manly)
in a scene from The Lady Scribblers (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

If one were to search for a label that might describe Goldhaber, the word “iconoclast” would be a logical choice. Currently serving as the Artistic Director for the Wry Crips Disabled Women’s Theatre Group, she is the Lead Instigator of the Bay Area Women's Theatre Festival as well as a member of the Dramatists Guild of America. Her partner (Chris Hall) is the leader of Godless Perverts (a social justice activist group devoted to fostering positive views of sexuality without religion).

Having spent more than two decades researching and directing works by women playwrights of the Restoration, Goldhaber has put her knowledge of the period to good use in The Lady Scribblers. “So often, everything we learn in history is always about the men of the times,” she notes. “But for me, a world of theatre where women’s stories are as important as men's stories is a world of parity. Our ground rules for the Women’s Theatre Festival are that every production has to be written and directed by a woman or non-binary artist and the cast and design team have to have gender parity. I want to see more stories that highlight women’s achievements and women in history. My particular interest involves digging into an era’s history and asking what the women were doing then.”

J. J. Van Name (Mary Pix), Emma Curtin (Catherine Trotter),
and Oluchi Nwokocha (Delarivier Manly) in a scene from
The Lady Scribblers (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Two years after the 1658 death of the puritanical Oliver Cromwell, England's Parliament agreed to invite King Charles II back from his exile in The Netherlands. Shortly after the King's 30th birthday, Cromwell (along with several others) was posthumously decapitated and the Restoration began in earnest. As noted on Wikipedia:
"Restoration literature celebrated or reacted to the restored court.
Theatres reopened after having been closed during the protectorship of Oliver Cromwell, and bawdy 'Restoration comedy' became a recognizable genre. Theatre licenses granted by Charles required that female parts be played by 'their natural performers' rather than by boys (as was often the practice before)."
Dave Sikula (George Pix), Valerie Fachman (Elizabeth Barry),
and Emily Stone (Anne Bracegirdle) in a scene from
The Lady Scribblers (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Set in London in 1689, The Lady Scribblers begins when a fight breaks out during the funeral for Aphra Behn, the first woman ever to earn her living as a playwright. Along with some friends, Mary Pix (J.J. Van Name) -- an aspiring playwright who writes comedies in her kitchen while waiting for her bread to rise -- is trying to find a way to get plays written by women produced. Her biggest obstacle is the pompous and greedy Christopher Rich (Ted Zoldan), a theatrical entrepreneur who runs the only royally sanctioned theatre in London and refuses to produce any more plays written by women.

Michael Houston (Lord Hammington) and Ted Zoldan
(Christopher Rich) in a scene from The Lady Scribblers
(Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Among Mary's colleagues are fellow playwrights Delarivier Manly (Oluchi Nwokocha) and Catherine Trotter (Emma Curtin); the great tragedienne, Elizabeth Barry (Valerie Fachman); as well as a popular actress named Anne Bracegirdle (Emily Stone). In addition to the conniving Mr. Rich, the women must also appeal to actor-theater manager Thomas Patrick Betterton (Dave Sikula) and Mary's husband, George Pix (also played by Sikula) for financial and emotional support. Indeed, there are only two fictional characters in the play: the horny, foppish Lord Hammington (Michael Houston) and a scheming actress named Lucinda Fairweather (Annika Bergman), who masterfully manipulates the clueless Lord Hammington.

Oluchi Nwokocha (Delarivier Manly), Michael Houston
(Lord Hammington), Valerie Fachman (Elizabeth Barry) and
Emma Curtin (a Page) in a scene from The Lady Scribblers
(Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Among the great joys to be found in The Lady Scribblers are Goldhaber's quick wit and solid plotting. Filled with plenty of in jokes for theatre nerds, her play is a perfect vehicle for over-emoting actors and vainglorious hams whose utter lack of subtlety keeps the audience in stitches. I especially enjoyed the shameless mugging by Annika Bergman, Valerie Fachman, Michael Houston, Dave Sikula, and Ted Zoldan.

Performances of The Lady Scribblers continue through March 29 at Custom Made Theatre (click here for tickets).

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In keeping with its reputation as a cauldron for new plays, Magic Theatre is participating in the National New Play Network’s rolling world premiere of Ricardo Pérez González's intense family drama (Don’t Eat The Mangos) with the Cleveland Public Theatre and the Milagro Theatre in Portland. The play’s five volatile characters rapidly switch back and forth between speaking in English and Spanish. While the script contains lots of laughs, the dramatic core revolves around a family trapped in a culture of toxic patriarchy in which their dying father's dirty little secret involves a history of child sexual abuse.

Elena Estér (Yinoelle) and Marilet Martinez (Wicha) in a scene
from Don't Eat The Mangos (Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)

Born in a trailer park in Ames, Iowa, the playwright (who describes himself as having been a weird little gay kid with a macabre sense of humor) readily admits to growing up in a dysfunctional family. “My mother was very physically and emotionally abusive. I remember stories she would tell about the things that happened in her family, to her mami, and it always felt like we were just recycling the same abuse. There was one particular bisabuela whose story is similar to the one in the play. That story stuck with me all my life and has always been a part of my personal mythology – the landscape of my nightmares,” González says.

Marilet Martinez (Wicha) and Yetta Gottesman (Ismelda) in a
scene from Don't Eat The Mangos (Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)
“As a brown boy growing up in Nebraska and Virginia, I used to write stories based on Greek mythology. I once made my father a birthday set of poems called 'Ricky’s Poems of Absolute Death.' Mangos (which is about a marginalized, abused individual) has queer characters and a queer sensibility that isn’t just about gay characters. The fact that I feel I am Yinoelle? That is queerness personified. I’m a child of abuse, a child of trauma, and a child of a racist society that didn’t think I could read. That didn’t think I could speak English. That tried to block off educational opportunities because I’m Puerto Rican,” he explains. “I’ve been physically attacked and been beaten up three times for being queer, yet look at where I am. I am blessed to be able to tell stories with amazing collaborators. So there is always hope.”

Yetta Gottesman (Ismelda) and Elena Estér (Yinoelle) in a
scene from Don't Eat The Mangos (Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)

Fiercely directed by David Mendizábal, Don't Eat The Mangos takes place in a home outside San Juan, Puerto Rico, where three sisters take turns caring for their dying patriarch. With the weather outside ranging from bright sunlight to a tropical hurricane (and the dialogue within the house ranging from barbed zingers to bitter recriminations), it's not the least bit surprising to hear one sister growl "I don’t need a man! I’m not like you or Wicha, desperate for the affection of a flaccid piece of meat who does nothing but drain your fucking lifeblood while you cling desperately to him so you can pretend your life has meaning. It doesn’t! None of it means anything, and I don’t have to pretend it does."

Yetta Gottesman stars as Ismelda in Don't Eat The Mangos
(Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)

Whether Ismelda (Yetta Gottesman), Yinoelle (Elena Estér), and Wicha (Marilet Martinez) are sniping at each other, singing a favorite childhood song, preparing food, or trying to decide what to do with the family home after Papi (Julian López-Morillas) dies, the ferocity of their emotions rarely cools. Late in the play, when one of the sisters accidentally reveals the family secret to Mami (Wilma Bonet), their mother embarks on juicily mango-themed revenge worthy of Greek tragedy. As an actor, Bonet has always fascinated me with her ability to maintain an emotional distance through much of a performance before becoming an irate matriarch whose boiling blood sends her fury coursing throughout her body.

Yetta Gottesman (Ismelda) and Wilma Bonet (Mami) in a
scene from Don't Eat The Mangos (Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)

Magic Theatre's production benefits immensely from the handsome unit set designed by Tanya Orellana, costumes by Brynn Almli, lighting designed by Chris Lundahl, and sound designed by Sara Huddleston. Audience members who are not bilingual may feel as if they are missing out on parts of the script but, by the time the violence passes and the drama reaches its final eerie moment, they will have no trouble feeling fulfilled.

Yetta Gottesman (Ismelda) and Elena Estér (Yinoelle) in a
scene from Don't Eat The Mangos (Photo by: Jennifer Reiley)

Another play written by González which received its world premiere from the Long Wharf Theatre in New Haven in October 2019 is part of a trilogy he’s writing focused on an interracial gay couple over the course of several decades. I hope to see a production of On The Grounds of Belonging in the Bay area at some time in the future.

Performances of Don't Eat The Mangos continue through March 22 at Magic Theatre (click here for tickets).