Arts & Entertainment
Deep in Tennessee
Obscure one acts by gay playwright produced at Shakespeare

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.
Denali (@denalifoxx) of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” performed at Pitchers DC on April 9 for the Thirst Trap Thursday drag show. Other performers included Cake Pop!, Brooke N Hymen, Stacy Monique-Max and Silver Ware Sidora.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)














Arts & Entertainment
In an act of artistic defiance, Baltimore Center Stage stays focused on DEI
‘Maybe it’s a triple-down’
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.
‘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.
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