LOS ANGELES – There has long been debate among theatrical scholars about whether going to a play has been traditionally considered an auditory or a visual experience.
The argument goes that, before the advent of modern technology which enabled cinema and other forms of filmed entertainment, the theatre was a place where sound was the primary vehicle by which an audience’s imagination could be transported out of the here and now, and that visual elements such as costumes, props, or mechanical stagecraft were secondary factors meant to reinforce and enhance the effect; for evidence of this, many point to Shakespeare, who in “Hamlet” had his lead character say “we’ll hear a play” (a phrase which was subsequently long-used preferentially by many theatre-goers in his homeland) and whose works are still renowned five-and-a-half centuries later for their masterful use of language to accomplish… well, pretty much everything required, from setting the scene and telling the story to exploring the deepest nooks and crannies of the human psyche.
Though the whole question might seem a bit pedantic in today’s world, it certainly touches on a major difference between the way we experience live theatre and the way we experience a film or television show, one which hinges on the main route these related-but-separate art forms take – through the ears or through the eyes – in transmitting information to the human brain. And if you want a good example of what a difference that difference makes, you couldn’t find a much better illustration than the plays of Candadian wordsmith Daniel MacIvor – two of which are currently being performed by the Open Fist Theatre Company at Atwater Village Theatre.
MacIvor, who is known also as a filmmaker and actor, garnered acclaim in the 1980s and 1990s for a series of plays, crafted in a minimalist style and reliant on an intricately constructed tapestry of words to convey situation, narrative, and intent. Standard conceits of theatrical storytelling, such as a linear flow or the assumption of a fourth wall, are often jettisoned in these works, which invite comparisons to absurdists like Beckett and Pinter and challenge audiences to connect the dots as they go in order to decipher meaning.
Two of these pieces, both directed with a confident hand by Open Fist’s associate artistic director Amanda Weir, are paired by Open Fist into a brisk and engrossing double bill which leans hard into the award-winning playwright’s unique, meta-theatrical approach to maximum advantage.
The shorter of the two works, “Never Swim Alone,” is the more directly abstract. Taking place on stage that is bare save for a lifeguard stand and two chairs, it presents a ruthless competition of one-upmanship between two men, Frank and Bill (Bryan Bertone and Dylan Maddalena), who demonstrate an escalating series of scenarios under the watchful eye of “The Referee” (Emma Bruno) – a young woman with a secret connection to the boys these men used to be. Slyly witty and unexpectedly suspenseful, it examines the competitive machismo hidden beneath the slick and stylish suits of these two “Type A” businessmen with a dark and scathing sense of humor, as it slowly draws a connection between their never-ending battle for supremacy and the deep trauma of a shared childhood experience.
Originally produced in 1991, the roughly 30-minute exercise taps into the rich vein of toxic masculinity in order to make its points about the deep-seated fears and insecurities that drive so much of what our culture has long accepted as “typical” male behavior, with the two men vying for “points” against each other – awarded, of course, by the female referee, who holds absolute and irrefutable power in the game despite the clear lack of regard with which each of the participants reveals themselves to hold women in general.
It’s unapologetically clever and disarmingly comedic, reveling in its theatricality and its tactics as it explores the men’s rivalry and breaks each confrontation down into the all-too-familiar clichés in which they are mired. The elegant simplicity of its construction, which distills a far-reaching and deep-rooted phenomenon into clear and concise shapshots of social dysfunction, feels as effective today as it surely did over two decades ago.
From a 2021 perspective, however, the subject matter no longer seems as fresh. In the last few years (especially since the “Me Too” movement), the topic of bad male behavior has been rehearsed so frequently, and in so many different and brilliant ways, that many audiences may find themselves getting ahead of the play’s revelations before they fully land, and the conceit which ties the whole thing together – which we’ll not reveal here – may ultimately strike some viewers as too pat an explanation for what makes these men (and presumably, somehow by extension, all of them) tick.
Nevertheless, MacIvor’s wordplay never fails to be crisp and exciting as it trips from the talented tongues of the players (especially the charismatic Bertone and the sublimely expressive Maddalena, who take on the lion’s share of the work), and those who enjoy watching skillful actors engaged in an exercise of their craft are bound to find the pleasures of doing so more than enough to make up for the familiarity of the themes being explored.
More satisfying from a narrative standpoint, and more engaging on an emotional level, is “The Soldier Dreams,” which MacIvor – who is gay – wrote in 1998 as a response to the AIDS crisis. Again, the setting is sparse, suggesting an empty nightclub with a single bed, occupied by an ailing man, facing upstage in the center.
The man is David (David Shofner), who is in the process of dying as his lover Richard (Conor Lane) and dysfunctional family spar with each other over his comatose form, each clinging to their own perceived special relationship with him and examining their memories to find an answer to the lingering mysteries about his life. Meanwhile, David himself is revisiting a secret memory, from years before, involving a one-night stand with a German student (Schuyler Mastain) that may or may not have led to something more important to him than any of the people standing around his soon-to-be deathbed.
Here, the same linguistic tricks used by MacIvor to form the intellectual exercise of “Swim” are employed to illuminate the web of human relationships at the center of a bittersweet story; as a result, they strike us with deeper resonance and more urgency than in the other piece.
Through the myriad pathways of language, the playwright offers a contemplation of life and death, experience and memory, honesty and deceit, and a host of other dualities that make up human existence. There’s sharp humor and cutting observation along the way, along with a fair amount of painful and hard-to-watch bitterness, but it’s all tempered with compassion and the three-dimensional layers revealed by each character as we go, and in the end, we are left in a place of hope – or, at least, of acceptance. And making it all come together, a talented cast succeeds in the essential task of breathing life into MacIvor’s words, with Shofner, Lane, and Mastain as standouts among a solid and capable ensemble.
The two complementary plays continue their run at Atwater Village Theatre through December 12. Check the Open Fist website for performance dates and times.
Captivating topic, great cast, but falls short on real issue
Rogue Machine Theatre’s recent run of “A Great Wilderness” is reviewed by the founder of the Conversion Therapy Dropout Network
By Curtis Galloway | LOS ANGELES – Rogue Machine Theatre’s recent run of “A Great Wilderness”, written by Samuel D. Hunter and directed by Elina de Santos, was a harrowing story, to say the least. It explores the complex ideas behind conversion therapy or sexual orientation and gender identity change efforts.
As a conversion therapy survivor, I knew that I needed to see this production as I am always more than happy to see conversations about this topic. While the cast was excellent and the overall theatrical presentation was entertaining and very engaging, I feel that the script itself lacked direction and proper handling of the main topic, conversion therapy.
The show opens in an old cabin, which we will stay in for the duration of the story, with the two main characters, Daniel & Walt, standing off in silent opposition. Daniel, a teenager, has just been sent away to a remote cabin run by Walt, an elderly man that is about to be moved into an assisted living home. We learn quickly that Daniel was sent there by his mother after he was caught watching homosexual pornography, and Walt is known for “helping” kids change their sexual orientation through religious means. To be plain, Walt is a “conversion therapist” and has been running a conversion camp with his friend Tim and ex-wife Abby.
Over the course of two hours, Daniel goes missing in the woods, Abby and Walt reveal that their son was gay and committed suicide due to their attempts to have his sexual orientation changed, and Daniel’s mother seemingly prefers her son stay missing rather than face the world that she knows is unkind to “people like him”.
There is no doubt, that the show had a fantastic cast. The six characters were neatly defined as their own individuals with distinct personalities and lives of their own. Each action was meaningful and thought out, to the smallest detail. The emotion brought through each character enticed you to believe that it was actually happening before your eyes. It was everything good casting should be.
My main issue with the production sat in the script, specifically the sympathy it garnered for Walt as a conversion therapist.
From personal experience, when talking about conversion therapy and specifically the conversion therapist, we need to be careful not to create a sympathetic tone. A Great Wilderness focused too much on the life and struggles of a conversion therapist that, in his old age, is trying to come to terms with his life, the mistakes he has made, and his past attractions.
This brings feelings of sympathy and emotional connection to the character, that does not deserve sympathy. One character notes that they knew Walt through the community as a weird old man that abuses children in his cabin by trying to make them straight. They noted that as they grew to know him they realized that people will say what they want, but they knew he “never harmed those kids”.
Toward the end of the show, we get the initial beginnings that Walt is starting to doubt the conversion therapy he has been providing his whole life, but we never really get to him denouncing it or talk directly about it.
At the end, we finally get to see Daniel stumble back into the cabin after being missing in the woods. He describes seeing flames (from a wildfire nearby) and having a revelation from God that he can change and that he wants to pursue what Walt initially set out to do, make Daniel straight.
For me, this left the door way too open for interpretation that, yes, conversion therapy is bad, but what this guy did really wasn’t. It misses the whole point and ideology behind why conversion therapy exists in the first place. Anti-LGBTQ sentiments that something is wrong with the individual are at the heart of all of it, and no amount of feel good cabin, “I just want to help” can cover that up.
Overall, the production of “A Great Wilderness” was captivating and fantastic. The cast did an amazing job and they should all be proud, as should the theatre. I left having mixed feelings, as you have now read, but I stand by my evaluation that it casts too much sympathy on a character that has spent his life making other’s lives worse and more confusing.
Curtis D. Galloway is the Founder & President of Conversion Therapy Dropout Network in Los Angeles, California. Curtis grew up in a small town in Southern Illinois. When he was 16 years old he was subjected to conversion therapy; an experience he was later able to use to ban conversion therapy in his home state.
Now living in L.A., Curtis has taken his activism to the next level and founded the Conversion Therapy Dropout Network to bring survivors of conversion therapy together in community and solidarity.
Gender-bending icon takes the stage in LA, but don’t call it ‘drag’
Queer culture may be catching up but don’t expect him to rest on his laurels. Show opens at LA’s Catalina Jazz Club 7pm Oct. 20
When you ask someone if they know who Joey Arias is, the answer you get will depend on the person you ask.
New Yorkers will likely be able to tell you he’s a longtime fixture of the Manhattan performance art and cabaret scene who’s been doing his best to make the city queer since the seventies, when he staged and performed fashion shows with his co-workers in the storefront windows at Fiorucci.
Others might know him from his association with queer disco icon Klaus Nomi, or his lengthy stint with Cirque du Soleil in Las Vegas, or from his mind-blowing collaboration show with puppeteer Basil Twist, “Arias with a Twist.”
Many will be aware of him as a pioneering drag artist and a regular performer at Wigstock; and most, though they may know nothing else about him, will at least remember him from his appearance on Saturday Night Live in 1979, when he and Nomi danced and sang backup for David Bowie in three now-iconic musical numbers.
“Imagine spending a week with David,” he reminisced to the Blade during a conversation we had with him last week. “Rehearsing for hours, and talking and having fun with him. And then, right before we were going on for that first song, we were standing there and he said, ‘After today your lives are going to change.’ And then we all laughed and we walked out onto the stage, with me and Klaus carrying David.”
Arias, who performs at LA’s Catalina Jazz Club at 7pm on October 20, is understandably proud of – and still a little starstruck by, perhaps – that experience, but it’s not the definitive moment of his career, no matter how famous it might be. Nor does he think of his reputation as a drag pioneer as his crowning achievement – in fact, he tells us, “I always HATED drag.”
It seems an odd statement from someone who spent his childhood, inspired by the films his parents frequently took him to see and the cartoons, books, and comic books that fed his imagination, dressing up and recreating them when he was left alone in the house.
As an example, he told us of a time he convinced some other boys in the neighborhood to join him for a re-enactment of “Cleopatra,” with him decked out like Liz (with some help from his mother’s makeup kit) and the other boys in their underwear, of course. Mom and Dad came home early, that time, he recalls.
Laughing, he recalls, “My mother was screaming, ‘Oh my God, you look like Cleopatra, what did I do to you?’ And here I am, seven years old, doing all this!”
Dressing up was always – and still is – something he loved to do. “I never thought of it as drag,” he insists. “If I liked something, I would dress like that – it could be a cowboy, for instance, only it would be something like an alien cowboy.”
Years later, in New York, friends would take him to drag bars and he would want to leave (“I’d see a guy on the stage doing Barbra Streisand and I would be like, ‘Let’s get OUT of here!’”), but then an opportunity came that he couldn’t refuse; he was invited to Andy Warhol’s Halloween Party, and the theme was drag.
“My friends helped me get dressed up, and I came up with this character named Justine DeSade. When I showed up, everyone was like, ‘Wow, who are YOU?,” and Andy came up and he was taking pictures, saying “Wow, wow!” He leaned up and whispered to me ‘Who are you really,’ and I told him my name and he said, ‘You need to stay like this all the time.’”
He was still resistant to it, however, but when Lady Bunny persuaded him to do Justine at Wigstock, her appearance there became an annual tradition. That led to more requests, including a drag calendar, Queens of New York (“All the girls were like, ‘What? You put Miss Arias on the cover? She isn’t even a drag queen!”), and bookings to perform his popular cabaret singing act in drag. Realizing, finally, that he was being paid less to perform as a man than as a woman, he deciced, “I think I’m going to be doing drag now.”
“Then drag became like the punk of the nineties,” he says, “and now it’s mainstream.”
That’s why, in the last few years, he’s distanced himself from the word “drag.”
“The minute you say it, people go to RuPaul,” he explains. “They don’t see the image of what I do now, which is more, just, androgyny – otherworldly, beautiful, chic, elegant, silhouette-y, you know? I look at it like a Kabuki actor, or a Geisha. That’s my influence too, I studied Geisha dancing, I did some Kabuki work in Japan – it’s all about beauty, graceful movements, it’s other-worldly, it’s minimal and gorgeous. ’Drag Race’ is incredible, but it’s not me. I don’t do it like that.”
It’s this graceful, other-worldly persona he feels most at home in when he performs – when he sings, really, because he has always thought of himself as a singer more than many of the other things for which he has become legendary. “I feel free, I feel good, I feel high on life and imagery, on making people smile and dream,” he tells us. “I want them to hear beautiful music that makes you think, with smart lyrics, and to look and the stage and say, ‘Look at this beauty, look at this dream!”
When pressed to define this androgynous stage presence as something separate from “drag,” he says he prefers to simply call it “Joey.”
That’s a reflection of the way he’s always felt about gender presentation, a rejection of labels that seems very much in tune with the increasing visibility of the trans and non-binary people as a part of the queer community at large. “All that stuff is right out there now,” he gushes. “It’s right in your face. That’s why all these politicians are freaking out.”
Yet though queer culture may finally be catching up to him, don’t expect Joey Arias to rest on his laurels.
“I mean, I’m older now, but there’s so much more to do,” he tells us. “I’m still on the warpath, performing and expanding people’s minds.”
He ruminates for a moment, then reflects, “I feel like I am part of a new consciousness. We live in a different time, everything is going so fast, there are things we don’t even know about that are there already, waiting for us. I say, ‘Let’s go!’ It’s easy to think about giving up, but there are always more dreams, more hope. Just keep going!
With a sly chuckle, he concludes, “Remember, it’s always the last inch that counts.”
An ‘Inheritance’ we deserve
What I will say instead is that while watching “The Inheritance” I felt like I was watching my own life being enacted on the stage
Once in a while, a reviewer can find themselves stymied by the sheer force of the impact they felt from the thing they are meant to impartially review.
For one reviewer, at least, “The Inheritance” is just such a thing.
That’s why, in tackling the challenge of communicating my response to this epic play, I have set aside my usual policy of “keeping myself out of the equation” and instead decided to adopt a first-person, subjective voice – for it would be impossible for me to pretend that there wasn’t something personal about my relationship with it. I would argue, in fact, that such a pretense would be impossible for any gay man, because “The Inheritance” is about each and every one of us.
Written by Matthew López and divided into two full-length parts, it’s loosely adapted from – or rather, inspired by – gay author E.M. Forster’s classic 1910 novel “Howards End.” Instead of dealing with the mores and customs of Edwardian English society, it’s a contemporary story set in New York, focused on a group of gay men living in the years after AIDS decimated an entire generation of their friends and elders.
That’s all I knew when I walked in the door of the theatre, apart from its production history – an acclaimed and award-winning 2018 London premiere directed by Stephen Daldry, followed by a multi-Tony-winning transfer to Broadway the subsequent year – and its reputation for inducing a powerful cathartic response from LGBTQ+ audiences. That’s all you really need to know, too.
In the West Coast premiere production staged by director Mike Donahue at the Geffen Playhouse, I worried that the New York setting might feel a little out-of-step with the Los Angeles queer community, but it didn’t take long for me to attune myself to the vast landscape of common ground lying just beneath the surface details.
As I watched actors assuming their positions on the stage before showtime, carrying laptops and books and getting comfortable in a way that evoked a casual afternoon at Starbucks more than an austere theatrical presentation, I was struck by a feeling of being among them, rather than apart.
When someone on the stage finally spoke, that feeling did not disappear; it lingered and remained a part of my perspective even across the lengthy dinner break between the show’s three-hour-plus parts, and even when the players assumed a more traditionally theatrical approach in telling the massive story.
That story, like all great stories, is made up of many smaller stories, each layered and intersecting among the others. Its major figures – long-term couple Eric and Toby (Adam Kantor and Juan Castano), child-of-privilege Adam and down-on-his-luck hustler Leo (both Bradley James Tejada), and older couple Walter and Henry (Bill Brochtrup and Tuc Watkins) – move between past and present, moment and memory, even actor and character, surrounded by an ensemble of others who step in and out of roles as required.
Together, at the prompting and with the guidance of E.M. Forster himself (Brochtrup, again), they enact a sweeping tale that encompasses a hundred years of history and more, in which each of their individual fates is decided by a chain of events and choices that extends far beyond themselves.
To say more about the narrative would be both difficult and unfair. My readers should be afforded the opportunity, just as I was, to let it all unfold as it happens.
When they do, they might find themselves caught up, perhaps even despite themselves. I confess, when I took my seat before the performance, I was carrying a bit of healthy skepticism. Surely, I thought, the play could not live up to all the hyperbolic buzz which surrounded it; after all, hadn’t reviews for the Broadway production been mixed? Hadn’t some critics demerited the piece for being shallow, or for diverging into lengthy debates about queer culture and political ideology?
My skepticism lasted only until the first moment I felt tears unexpectedly welling up behind my eyes. It came remarkably soon, over a simple throwaway line that conjured such a primal response that I reacted to it before my critical brain had a chance to understand why.
This was a phenomenon that repeated itself countless times throughout the play; more than that, there were many moments, cumulatively built, that engaged my intellect yet still overwhelmed me with emotional response. It’s rare for me, as a longtime veteran of watching theatre, to be fully moved in this way – and the fact that it happened not once, but numerous times throughout “The Inheritance,” was an unexpected gift I was grateful to receive.
In expressing that gratitude, I must single out some among the individuals responsible, but it should be acknowledged that, for me, there was not a single weak link in the chain.
Brochtrup, distinctly differentiating his two important roles with the skill of a seasoned thespian, also captures the things which connect them with shimmering clarity; Kantor’s Eric is as endearingly real as the best gay friend you’ve ever known; Castano’s Toby is a dynamo, electrifying to watch and dominating the stage – appropriately so – during every scene he’s in; Tejada (who joined the production as a last-minute replacement after an injury required a previously cast actor to depart the role) is heartbreakingly vulnerable in each of his dual roles, and compelling in his ostensible position as the central voice of the narrative; Watkins’ Henry, who must surmount the challenge of being likable in a role which positions him as an antagonist, succeeds with his understated, close-to-the-chest performance in doing exactly that; and lastly, Indigenous actress Tantoo Cardinal is a blessing in a late-appearing role that gives her a chance to distill the myriad emotions we’ve felt so far into a single, profoundly resonant monologue –delivered without a trace of manipulative sentimentality.
I could talk about more. I could talk about Jamie Todd’s scenic design or Josh Epstein’s lighting or Sara Ryung Clement’s costumes, but my praise for each of these elements can be conveyed appropriately by saying they are executed with elegant and effective simplicity; I could list all the awards the piece has won in its previous productions, but you can easily look that up yourself. I could discuss themes and literary references, or the metaphoric application of the title to the play itself, but that would be pedantic.
What I will say instead is that while watching “The Inheritance” I felt like I was watching my own life being enacted on the stage. I recognized myself and every gay person I have ever known in every character, and my own history and experience reflected in thousands of ways, both large and small, throughout.
This was more than a play, it was a tribal ritual, an invocation of community connection and shared experience that stretches back across millennia and forward into an uncharted and uncertain future. In seeing it, I felt seen – an expression never fully comprehended until lived firsthand.
It made me proud of my queer heritage; it made me feel lucky and honored to be a gay man.
Who can ask for a better inheritance than that?
Out & About: Performing arts in Los Angeles this weekend
LA’s Theatre scene is back in full swing for fans of queer LA theatre, as Off-Broadway hit “Daddy Issues” plus “(Un)Documents” opens
Queer LatinX solo show performance ‘(Un)documents’ to receive West Coast premiere
LA’s Theatre scene is back in full swing at last, and that means fans of the kind of small, independent, and edgy productions that can only be found in a city like ours have plenty of plays to choose when going out to satisfy that theatrical itch.
Fans of queer theatre will want to take note of one such show that is opening this weekend (October 14): the West Coast premiere of “(Un)Documents,” presented by the Latino Theater Company.
Written and performed by queer actor, theatermaker and poet Jesús I. Valles, who immigrated to the U.S with their family at the age of nine. It’s described as “the lyrical tale of Valles’s journey across both sides of a river with two names, moving between languages to find their place in a nation that demands sacrifice at the altar of citizenship. In doing so, they create a new kind of documentation written with anger, fierce love, and the knowledge that what makes us human can never be captured on a government questionnaire.”
The multiple award-winning solo work – which is directed by Rudy Ramirez – was adapted from a series of 20 poems Valles wrote following their brother’s deportation in a workplace raid — poems about their brother, citizenship, identity and the LGBTQ community. premiered at Austin, Texas’ The Vortex Theatre in 2018, as part of “FuturX: A New Festival of Latinx Performance,” where it won awards for original script, lead actor and direction, and was remounted several times before being streamed live by Latino Theater Company as part of “RE:Encuentro 2021,” a virtual, national Latinx theater festival featuring 16 companies and performers from across the U.S. in digital residence at The Los Angeles Theatre Center.
Says Valles, “I learned early on what some people are able to do or unable to do, all based on a few pieces of paper and, you know, some holograms on some plastic. ‘(Un)Documents’ asks the audience to rethink how they watch and talk about migrant communities, queer people of color, systems of oppression – and to ask questions of themselves and those in positions of power.”
Performances take place October 14 through November 20 at The Los Angeles Theatre Center in Downtown LA. Tickets and more information (including up-to-date Covid-19 safety protocols on the day of each performance) are available by calling (213) 489-0994 or visiting the Latino Theatre Company website.
Queer Off-Broadway hit ‘Daddy Issues’ comes to LA
How far will a gay guy go to please his controlling Jewish parents?
Fans of queer LA theatre can find out the answer to this question beginning on October 14, when the Off-Broadway hit “Daddy Issues” opens for its West Coast premiere at the Complex in Hollywood.
Written and directed by David Goldyn, the play – which enjoyed a sold-out fun at the St. Clements Theatre in New York – is an exhuberant screwball comedy which starts our slow before snowballing into an outrageous farce. It hinges a couple (Mr. and Mrs. Moscowitz) who are in denial about their son Donald’s gay lifestyle, disapprove of his career choice, and question his flair for decoration. To get his family to stop kvetching, Donald needs a son – so he enlists the help of his ballsy best friend Henrietta and a rising drag queen named Levi, and hires a ten-year-old kid from downstairs. As the official synopsis asks, “What could go wrong?”
According to Goldyn, his play was inspired by an real-life incident he had in dealing with his own overbearing parents. “All the characters are based on real people,” he adds. “Although many of the most outrageous lines may sound like they belong in a sit-com, they actually came straight out of the mouths of my mother, father and grandma.”
The Off-Broadway production was called by the Huffington Post, “[a] frothy, whipped gelatin dessert of a show,” and the Times Square Chronicles described it as laugh out loud funny.”
Goldyn himself directs the West Coast premiere, which stars James Seifert stars as Donald, a gay “everyman” who can only react to all the craziness going on around him. Donald’s homophobic father, Sid, is played by Jonathan Fishman, while Pamela Shaw takes on the role of Marion, Donald’s funny, somewhat screwy mother who loves to quote Reader’s Digest. Noa Lev–Ari and Josh Nadler play his best friends, zaftig Henrietta and drag queen-by-night Levi. Rounding out the cast are Sherry Michaels as Grandma, Hannah Battersby as Donald’s downstairs neighbor, and Solly Werner as precocious 10-year-old Johnny Walker. The play is presented by Charles Blondeau.
Performances of “Daddy Issues” run from Oct. 14 through Nov. 13 at The Complex (6476 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood). For tickets and more info, go to daddyissuestheplay.com.
“Hamilton” creators donate monetary damages to LGBTQ+ group
A Texas church performed an unauthorized production of the acclaimed Broadway musical with the addition of homophobic content
MCALLEN, Tx – Capping a three-week conflict that attracted national media attention, the creators of “Hamilton” said they will donate monetary damages collected from a Texas church that performed an unauthorized production of the acclaimed Broadway musical and altered it with the addition of homophobic content.
A statement published on Instagram Tuesday on behalf of Door Christian Fellowship McAllen Church (“Door McAllen”) and its pastor Roman Gutierrez apologizes to the creator and producers of “Hamilton” for using the music and dialogue and changing them without permission.
While the post made no acknowledgement of Door McAllen’s choice to liken homosexuality to drug and alcohol addiction in its unauthorized alteration of its unauthorized production on August 5, “Hamilton” affirmed its support for the LGBTQ+ community with the decision to give the monetary damages to the South Texas Equality Project.
The LGBTQ+ group did not immediately respond to requests for comment on its pending receipt of the damages, whose value has not been disclosed.
“Hamilton” fans discovered the performance after Door McAllen streamed the show on its YouTube channel, where it was subsequently cut into clips that were widely circulated on Twitter and other social media platforms – often accompanied by the hashtag #Scamalton and objections to musical’s adulteration.
Many of the clips show the scene in which Victor Lopez, another Door McAllen pastor, delivers a sermon in which he says: “Maybe you struggle with alcohol, with drugs — with homosexuality — maybe you struggle with other things in life, your finances, whatever. God can help you tonight.”
In addition to its homophobia, the online attention exposed what theater blog OneStage called Door McAllen’s “perfect storm” of copyright and intellectual property (IP) law violations: “The church did not have permission to perform the show, make changes to its lyrics, use its logo, use copyrighted music as a backing track, advertise the production, and stream it on YouTube.”
“Hamilton” Creator Lin Manuel Miranda was made aware of the unauthorized production of his musical amid the growing backlash against it, issuing a statement where he said, “Grateful to all of you who reached out about this illegal, unauthorized production. Now lawyers do their work.”
OneStage noted that Door McAllen’s apology on Instagram “does not admit wrongdoing” with respect to the church’s unauthorized stage productions of “Disney’s Beauty & the Beast,” “Despicable Me,” and “Elf: The Musical,” which contained similar anti-LGBTQ+ alterations.
Playwright queers a famous president in ‘Lavender Men’
If you’re one of those hardcore LA theatre aficionados who truly love unique & intimate live productions it’s time to consider diving back
LOS ANGELES – While you may have noticed that theatre venues like the Ahmanson and the Pantages have made a triumphant return from the COVID shutdowns, LA’s smaller theatre spaces – those who managed to make it through without closing permanently, that is – are still struggling to rebound. If you’re one of those hardcore LA theatre aficionados who truly love the kind of unique and intimate live productions one can only find in our fabulous city, it’s definitely time to consider diving back in – and fortunately, the historic Skylight Theatre has something on its stage right now that should be considered a must-see for any LGBTQ+ theatre fan.
Produced by Playwrights Arena and the Skylight Theatre Company, “Lavender Men” is a brand-new “historical fantasia” which re-imagines one of America’s most beloved historical icons, President Abraham Lincoln, through a queer lens. It’s not the first time Lincoln’s alleged non-heterosexual leanings have been the subject of speculation – or even of speculative dramatization – but this is not merely a historical drama attempting to make a case for the Great Emancipator’s queerness. Directed by Lovell Holder, it instead bridges over a century and a half of history by focusing on an outside observer – Taffeta, a queer and plus-sized person of color who invades Abe Lincoln’s private world to confront issues of visibility, race, and LGBTQ+ inclusion that still challenge us today.
Taffeta, like “Lavender Men” itself, is the brainchild of playwright Roger Q. Mason, who (appropriately enough) plays the character in this premiere production. She’s a figure that represents Mason’s own experience of American culture, springing from their own thinking “about the ways in which people of color, plus size, expansive, are often left out of American romances.”
The Blade recently had a chance to chat with Mason about the play, and our conversation is below.
LA Blade: It’s interesting that you chose to address our current vision of the American narrative, particularly regarding queer and non-White European experience, with a play about the Civil War era. Can you explain why you made that choice?
Roger Q. Mason: For me, the Civil War was the time in which our current notions of race, politics, history, and memory were first codified. We are still living in the aftermath of the divides formed during that period. It’s no coincidence that, shortly after the war (in 1868, to be exact), the word “homosexual” first appeared in scientific literature. It is not a coincidence that the backlash of the Emancipation Proclamation (and Juneteenth) was Jim Crow – whose insidious ideas we are unfortunately having to relive in our country today. Therefore, the play HAS to return to the Civil War to disrupt our notions about our cultural and historical narrative and start healing, through calling out the ills that divide rather than unite us.
LAB: Lincoln’s sexuality has long been a point of contentious debate, which is not surprising, considering he is obviously an iconic President – and an iconic Republican, too, although the party of his day was arguably more aligned with values generally attributed Democrats, today. Is that part of the reason you decided to explore it in your play?
RQM: Well, the play was first born from working in the brilliant queer arts community of Chicago. At that time, there was a play going around called “Lincoln was a Faggot,” which pondered the 16th President’s queerness. I was intrigued by the premise. I thought that Lincoln was an American historical god – almost impenetrable and beyond notions of the flesh. So, the possibility of his queerness humanized him in a way. And if I can humanize him, then I can interrogate the world in which he lived and the values which we have inherited from that world. Emerging from a place of humanity, change and growth are possible; healing is possible. Exploring Lincoln’s queerness became, for me, the first step in healing my own Black, plus-sized queer heart now – a heart which oftentimes feels invisible to my white cisgender queer male counterparts.
LAB: Is that how Taffeta came into the picture?
RQM: Taffeta evolved into the center of “Lavender Men” because of a challenge from Skylight Theatre Company. When we were preparing for the Skylab readings, Producing Co-Artistic Director Gary Grossman posed the question, “Why does Taffeta need to be in the play?” In that early draft, she didn’t have the dominant presence she has now, but I knew she needed to be at the center of the work. She was its heartbeat. So, in many ways, Taffeta’s evolution and growth was a reply to Gary’s question.
LAB: How did writing “Lavender Men” contribute to your own “evolution and growth?”
RQM: The development history of “Lavender Men” is the story of my own growth as a person and a writer. Growing up, I wanted to be a “man of letters” – with an emphasis on the masculine respectability and the intellectual prowess of that phrase – but what I am is a gender expansive story conjurer! I’ve learned through the process of this play to embrace those beautiful aspects of who I am.
And I must give credit to Playwrights’ Arena for allowing me the space in which to experience that process. My affiliation with them has been one of admirer and devotee. Jon Lawrence Rivera has championed the works of two very important Los Angeles-based playwrights, Boni Alvarez and Donald Jolly, and they are guiding lights to me as a writer – so when this opportunity to collaborate with Jon and his crew came along, I was excited.
LAB: What points in the play are most significant to you? What do you hope the audience will take away?
RQM: One of my favorite moments in the play was added in previews. It’s right before the last scene, where Taffeta finally admits the conflicted mission of her voyeurism: she is retelling Abe’s story to identify how his queer white male love excludes her as a black, plus-sized person; and she wants to tell it because it is the closest she’ll ever get to romance in her loveless life. As a writer, that kind of dramaturgical clarity is GOLD.
I hope that audiences relish in the specific and universal truths that my castmates Pete Ploszek, Alex Esola and I are mining through the show, including the hurt that bias reaps on “the other,” the power of second chances, and the eternal search for self-love. Working with my creative other half Lovell Holder, director on this project, has deepened these themes through embodiment in production. We have all had a lot of fun making the show! So, ultimately, I hope audiences learn something new about themselves and their history, while having a fabulous time along the way.
“Lavender Men” performs at LA’s Skylight Theatre, 1816 1/2 North Vermont Ave (in Los Feliz), through Sept 4. For tickets and more information visit the Skylight’s website.
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