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Deep in Tennessee

Obscure one acts by gay playwright produced at Shakespeare

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Lynn Sharp Spears as Lucretia in ‘Portrait of a Madonna,’ Tennessee Williams’ one act precursor to ‘Streetcar Named Desire.’ (Photo courtesy Washington Shakespeare Company)

‘Tennessee Continuum: Two One-Act Plays by Tennessee Williams’
Through July 3
Washington Shakespeare Company
Artisphere
1101 Wilson Blvd, Arlington, VA.
$25-$35; pay what you can for Saturday matinees
888-841-2787

Like the name suggests, Washington Shakespeare Company is a little Bard-centric, but the Rosslyn-based troupe successfully interprets modern playwrights too, particularly Tennessee Williams. Currently the company is presenting two rarely performed pieces from different phases of the gay playwright’s epic career.

Though ostensibly not a bit alike, “Portrait of a Madonna” and “The Gnädiges Fräulein” (together billed as “Tennessee Continuum: Two One-Act Plays by Tennessee Williams), are both poignant and inhabited by tragic characters. They share some of the inescapable Williams’ themes of unrequited attachments and survival in an unkind world.

Written in 1940, “Madonna” is a precursor to Williams’ later, greater works. Set in a grim apartment in an unnamed city, it’s the story of Lucretia Collins, a kooky maiden lady who is haunted by an ill-fated romance from her genteel, small town southern past. Now poor and alone, the aging preacher’s daughter loses her mind: She believes the man she once loved invades her bedroom nightly to “indulge his senses” as she rather delicately puts it. When she calls the apartment management for help, they summon mental health professionals and not the cops.

Sensitively staged by Lynn Sharp Spears, the one act reeks with the stuff that made the young Williams famous: faded belles, gentleman callers and glimpses into madness — Annetta Dexter Sawyer’s Lucretia is certifiably nuts. Slice Hick’s empathetic, human porter and Bob Sheire as the mocking elevator operator give an idea of the variety of characters that a lady might encounter in the sometimes uncertain outside world.

In “Madonna’s” final scene, a kindly doctor (here played by Christopher Henley sporting a Tyrone Power-inspired haircut) comes to escort an increasingly disconnected Lucretia to a state asylum. Williams would rewrite this same situation a few years concerning another distressed lady — Blanche DuBois in “A Streetcar Named Desire.”  Interestingly, after seeing Jessica Tandy play Lucretia in a West Coast production of Madonna in 1947, he cast her as Blanche in the original production of “Streetcar.”

After intermission, it’s “The Gnädiges Fräulein,” a very funny paean to human survival written in 1966 when Williams was no longer the darling of critics. In fact, this one act (which translates from German as “Gracious Young Lady”) originally closed on Broadway in less than a week. Set in Williams’ beloved Florida Keys, the oddball comedy was his first foray into the absurd and, many say, an allegory of his own artistic life.

In search of a scoop, society reporter Polly (Mundy Spears) shows up at an unconventional guest house owned by no-nonsense Molly (Emily Webbe). It’s a strange place: The front porch is dripping with blood and a vicious Cocaloony bird (Karin Abromaitis) is circling the property intimidating everyone it meets. And the tenants are equally unusual. Wearing just a tiny loincloth, pulchritudinous and platinum blond Indian Joe (James Finley) struts about and says very little. The orange-haired title Fraulein (Karin Rosnizeck) was once a performer. Now deaf and blind in one eye, she earns her keep by battling increasingly fearsome Cocaloonies for fisherman’s castoff catch down at the docks. When not trading Williams’ gloriously crafted barbs, frenemies Polly and Molly smoke joints and engage in furious, highly sexualized synchronized rocking.

Gay director Jay Hardee elicits just right performances from an excellent cast. His inspired staging effortlessly coaxes the show’s many aspects — campy humor, menace, and melancholy — to the fore. Elizabeth Jenkins McFadden’s nonintrusive set cleverly morphs from tenement flat to seaside abode with very little fuss.

“Tennessee Continuum” is now running in repertory at Artisphere with a production of “Night and Day” by Tom Stoppard — another of the company’s favorite playwrights.

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Arts & Entertainment

In an act of artistic defiance, Baltimore Center Stage stays focused on DEI

‘Maybe it’s a triple-down’

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Last year, Baltimore Center Stage refused to give up its DEI focus in the face of losing federal funding. They've tripled down. (Photo by Ulysses Muñoz of the Baltimore Banner)

By LESLIE GRAY STREETER | I’m always tickled when people complain about artists “going political.” The inherent nature of art, of creation and free expression, is political. This becomes obvious when entire governments try to threaten it out of existence, like in 2025, when the brand-new presidential administration demanded organizations halt so-called diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programming or risk federal funding.

Baltimore Center Stage’s response? A resounding and hearty “Nah.” A year later, they’re still doubling down on diversity.

“Maybe it’s a triple-down,” said Ken-Matt Martin, the theater’s producing director, chuckling.

The rest of this article can be found on the Baltimore Banner’s website.

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Books

Susan Lucci on love, loss, and ‘All My Children’

New book chronicles life of iconic soap star

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(Book cover image courtesy of Blackstone Publishing)

‘La Lucci’
By Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
c.2026, Blackstone Publishing
$29.99/196 pages

They’re among the world’s greatest love stories.

You know them well: Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Abelard and Heloise. Phoebe and Langley. Cliff and Nina. Jesse and Angie, Opal and Palmer, Palmer and Daisy, Tad and Dixie. Now read “La Lucci” by Susan Lucci, with Laura Morton, and you might also think of Susan and Helmut.

When she was a very small girl, Susan Lucci loved to perform. Also when she was young, she learned that words have power. She vowed to use them for good for the rest of her life.

Her parents, she says, were supportive and her family, loving. Because of her Italian heritage, she was “ethnic looking” but Lucci’s mother was careful to point out dark-haired beauties on TV and elsewhere, giving Lucci a foundation of confidence.

That’s just one of the things for which Lucci says she’s grateful. In fact, she says, “Prayers of gratitude are how I begin and end each day.”

She is particularly grateful for becoming a mother to her two adult children, and to the doctors who saved her son’s life when he was a newborn.

Lucci writes about gratitude for her long career. She was a keystone character on TV’s “All My Children,” and she learned a lot from older actors on the show, and from Agnes Nixon, the creator of it. She says she still keeps in touch with many of her former costars.

She is thankful for her mother’s caretakers, who stepped in when dementia struck. Grateful for more doctors, who did heart-saving work when Lucci had a clogged artery. Grateful for friends, opportunities, life, grandchildren, and a career that continues.

And she’s grateful for the love she shared with her husband, Helmut Huber, who died nearly four years ago. Grateful for the chance to grieve, to heal, and to continue.

And yet, she says of her husband: “He was never timid, but I know he was afraid at the end, and that kills me down to my soul.”

“It’s been 15 years since Erica Kane and I parted ways,” says author Susan Lucci (with Laura Morton), and she says that people still approach her to confirm or deny rumors of the show’s resurrection. There’s still no answer to that here (sorry, fans), but what you’ll find inside “La Lucci” is still exceptionally generous.

If this book were just filled with stories, you’d like it just fine. If it was only about Lucci’s faith and her gratitude – words that happen to appear very frequently here – you’d still like reading it. But Lucci tells her stories of family, children and “All My Children,” while also offering help to couples who’ve endured miscarriage, women who’ve had heart problems, and widow(ers) who are spinning and need the kindness of someone who’s lived loss, too.

These are the other things you’ll find in “La Lucci,” in a voice you’ll hear in your head, if you spent your lunch hours glued to the TV back in the day. It’s a comfortable, fun read for fans. It’s a story you’ll love.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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Theater

Minimal version of ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ heading to Dupont Underground

Director Nick Westrate on this traveling take on Williams’s masterwork

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Lucy Owen and Nick Westrate (Photo by Walls Trimble)

‘A Streetcar Named Desire’
Produced by The Streetcar Project
April 20-May 4
Dupont Underground
19 Dupont Circle, N.W.
Tickets start at $85.
Dupontunderground.org

An aggressively minimal version of Tennessee Williams’s “A Streetcar Named Desire” is poised to run at Dupont Underground (April 20-May 4), the nonprofit cultural space located in a repurposed, abandoned 1949 streetcar station beneath Dupont Circle.

The Streetcar Project’s production performs in site-specific spaces. It’s almost entirely without design elements. There is no steamy, cramped Vieux Carré apartment. You won’t see Blanche’s battered trunk exploding with cheap finery, faded love letters, and demands for back property taxes, or the familiar costumes. 

Co-created by Lucy Owen (who stars as Blanche DuBois) and out director Nick Westrate in 2023, this traveling spare take on Williams’s masterwork about a fragile woman on the margins in conflict with her brutish brother-in-law seems a reaction to necessity. It’s also an exploration of whether, like Shakespeare’s “Henry V,” it can subsist on language alone.   

With little distractions (even Blanche’s cultivated southern belle accent has been daringly stripped away), the spotlight shines almost solely on text. “This play holds that,” says Westrate, 42. “I remind the actors that the while there is plenty of movement, language is really the only game in town.”

New York-based Westrate, who’s best known as an esteemed actor with New York and regional credits including Prior Walter in János Szász’s production of “Angels in America” at Arena Stage, describes “Streetcar” as “the most perfect play on earth” but not one he thinks of acting in (“I’m not right for Stanley Kowalski or Mitch”) though he agreed to direct. 

“These days if you’re not a not a movie star or an established director, you’re not likely to do “Streetcar.” So, for us, we have to be able to do it with almost nothing, on the New York subway if necessary. And that’s kind of how we built it.” 

Westrate first experienced Dupont Underground while attending a staged reading. He was so obsessed with the space as a prospective place to take the production, he found it hard to concentrate. He says, “With its long, curved track and tunnel, Dupont Underground is a terrifying, beautiful room that carries so much metaphorical weight, so much possibility for our production.”

WASHINGTON BLADE: Is finding the right space for this “Streetcar” part of the thrill?

NICK WESTRATE: Whenever I enter a weird room or pass by an abandoned CVS, I try to figure out how we might do the show there, especially places that are dilapidated, architecturally odd, or possibly haunted. And each space we use, lends something to the production. The Rachel Comey store in Soho was a very Blanche coded space. And an artist’s workshop on Venice Beach in California with its huge saws and metal hooks lent raw imagery. The scenes between Blanche and Stanley near the end were absolutely terrifying.

BLADE: More recently that same bare bones production has played in more traditional spaces like the Wheeler Opera House in Aspen and San Francisco’s A.C.T. Is it hard to now go to Dupont Underground? 

WESTRATE: Each time we do this we have to crack open the play again because the staging is entirely new, but we’re used to performing in unusual spaces and Dupont Underground rather takes us back to form. As a former streetcar station, it’s the most appropriate space we’ve had yet. 

The cast will literally act on streetcar tracks and go without dressing rooms but they’re game, and because they have history and authorship over the work, the sacrifice is more meaningful than if they were just some hired guns.

BLADE: Audiences have an expectation, especially with a work they’re likely to know. How do they react seeing such an unadorned take on Williams’s American classic?

WESTRATE: For the first 10 or 15 minutes, they’re unsure. Then, you can pretty much see the audience members’ brains click in and their imaginations turn on. It’s like they’re scratching an itch that they didn’t even know they had.

BLADE: Did you and Lucy foresee gaining this kind of momentum behind your vision?

WESTRATE: Absolutely not. Lucy had a philosophy that we’ll just walk through open doors. Early on, we were given spaces and artists filled the seats, and increasingly we’ve begun to rent some spaces and attract more regular theatergoers. 

We basically sell tickets in order to pay a living wage to artists involved. There isn’t some big institution or commercial producer who’s getting a lot of money from this. Audiences of all types seem to respond to this mode of making theater.

BLADE: In presenting “Streetcar” intermittently, usually with the same cast over three years in wildly varying venues, have you learned more about a piece that you already loved?

WESTRATE: Mostly I’ve come to realize that Blanche is the smartest character I’ve ever read in a play. She’s like Hamlet – tormented by dreams and terrified of death. She’s skilled at wordplay and always ahead of everyone else in the room. Also like Hamlet, people think she’s insane and she uses that to her advantage. 

Blanche is certainly the Everest of roles for actresses and watching Lucy sort of break it apart in a different way than you’ve ever seen, and knowing that I’ve helped to facilitate this performance has been one of the great joys of my career.

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