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Gay composer’s love letter to family

‘Sycamore Trees’ is candid, compassionate

Published

15 years ago

on

Four years ago on his 50th birthday, gay composer Ricky Ian Gordon won an Obie Award for his song cycle, “Orpheus and Euridice.” On that very same day, he also learned that he’d received a $100,000 commission from Signature Theatre to compose a new musical as part of the Arlington company’s “American Musical Voices Project.” The result of Gordon being selected by Signature is “Sycamore Trees,” an almost entirely autobiographical piece chronicling his family’s story from the mid-1940s through the 1990s.

Initially, Gordon thought he’d satisfy his sizable commission by collaborating with an established lyricist and a playwright on a new musical work. When that didn’t pan out, Gordon sensed the universe was telling him something: “Do the family piece!” Certainly the material was there: His mother was a Borsht Belt singer and his father a macho World War II veteran. He and his three older sisters, Gordon attests, were the result of their parents’ outsized passion. And while the postwar Jewish family’s climb from the Bronx to suburban Long Island wasn’t unusual, their rancorous battles and hardcore addiction issues were.

Gordon first began work on the libretto and score that would become “Sycamore Trees” in the 1980s. “When I started, I had a story about my family but not self,” he explains. “I first had to live, bottom out, lose a lover to AIDS, and get clean. Only after putting my world back together did telling my story make sense to me. ”

In a Signature press release, “Sycamore Trees’” director Tina Landau says, “The whole piece feels like a poem — some haunting combination of memory, music, and dream.” But it’s also sharp, biting and very funny with an eclectic, melodic score. This world premiere production features a talented cast of Broadway vets including Judy Kuhn, Mac Kudisch, Matthew Risch, and Diane Sutherland. Tony Yazbeck plays Andrew, the Gordon character.

About midpoint in the musical’s development, Andrew had a poem, essentially a paean to his father’s laud worthy penis. Ultimately, the passage was cut. (“There’s only so much you can ask from an audience,” Gordon notes wryly, “Especially when you tell them that they’re seeing a musical.”)

But another scene recounting young Andrew’s disastrous sexual experimentation with another boy remains intact. Many changes and edits were made throughout the evolution of “Sycamore Trees,” and none of them came easily, says Gordon. When it’s your own story, it’s especially difficult to leave something out.

At just 16, Gordon entered Carnegie Mellon University. In his freshman year, he realized he was meant to be a composer. For him, it was “like walking into the light.” Today, Gordon’s advice to aspiring composers is to listen to all the music they possibly can. Writing for theater demands that they call upon all that they know to make every moment as authentic as possible. To do that, it’s necessary to have a broad musical vocabulary at your fingertips. Most young composers have yet to acquire that. With him it was different.

“I’m a trash heap of information,” Gordon happily reports. “As long as I can remember my ambition was to become a great artist, so I knew all the poets; foreign film greats like Bergman, Truffaut, Godard, Antonioni, Fellini, and Mizoguchi; and so many composers, particularly Shostakovich, Rorem, and Sondheim. Consequently, I was very informed and totally imitative.”

“I feel compelled to write musicals that are both emotionally and psychologically like the foreign films that I grew up loving. That’s my aesthetic,” adds Gordon whose other works include the opera “The Grapes of Wrath” and the musicals “Dream True” and “My Life with Albertine.”

“I like to bring the close-up to the stage. There’s intimacy even in my more epic work.”

“Sycamore Trees” is a love letter to Gordon’s family. And while he exposes himself and his kin, warts and all, his candid observations are exceedingly compassionate and beautifully rendered.

‘Sycamore Trees’
Through June 13
Signature Theatre
4200 Campbell Ave., Arlington
703-573-SEAT
signature-theatre.org

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Theater

A trip ‘through media, memory to examine cultural imperialism’

Ashil Lee on Woolly’s ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt’

Published

4 days ago

on

May 11, 2025

By

Ashil Lee as Kurosawa in ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His
Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!)’ (Photo courtesy Gisela Estrada Photography)

‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live & active cultures!)’
Through June 1
Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company
641 D St., N.W.
Tickets start at $55
Woollymammoth.net

New York City-based artist Ashil Lee, 31, acts and directs. When you enter their name in a search engine, you’re first likely to find “Korean American trans nonbinary child of immigrants.”

Currently they’re playing in Woolly Mammoth Theatre’s world premiere production of Julia Izumi’s “Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live & active cultures!),” a trip “through media and memory to examine cultural imperialism, ‘healthy’ consumption, and why we make art.”

The play isn’t exactly a biopic of innovative Japanese filmmaker Kurosawa (1910-1998), says Lee.  

“It’s more of a jumping off point for our own emotional journeys, which is parallel to how he’s inspired other filmmakers,” they continue. “While you may not have seen his ground-breaking samurai films, you’ve undoubtedly seen lots of movies and TV directly inspired by his work.” 

Recently, I called Lee at their temporary Woolly-provided Penn Quarter digs just a block from the theater. Smart and warmly engaging, they were enthusiastic to share what brings them to D.C. 

WASHINGTON BLADE: How did you find your way into this interestingly titled play?

ASHIL LEE: My part, Actor Two, was originally written for a female actor. When playwright and cast member Julia [Izumi] asked me if I was open to auditioning for the role, I agreed and subsequently booked the part. 

Julia and I know each other from working in New York [“The Nosebleed” at The Lincoln Center Theatre] where she was associate director and an understudy, and I was an actor. She learned the part, but never went on stage, so our experience was limited to the rehearsal room 

Now I get to act with Julia with people watching.

BLADE: Actor Two sounds pretty wide open. 

LEE: And that’s what so great about it. A name like Actor Two that means you’re going to play a lot of different roles which is true in this case. More specifically, I play Stage Hand, myself, and an older version of Kurosawa. 

BLADE: You play the iconic filmmaker’s filmmaker? 

LEE: All of the cast play Kurosawa at different stages in his life. Similar to varied cultural strains of yogurt, we call them the different strains of Kurosawa.

The play includes other characters too: Heigo, Kurosawa’s older brother and childhood influence: and a famous fetishizer who proves a problematic guest, someone we love to hate.

BLADE: Are you a Kurosawa fan? 

LEE: Actually, I’ve never seen a Kurosawa film. And since one of my characters hasn’t seen any of his work either, I thought I’d hold off seeing any. This is a play that’s equally appealing to both those who know a lot about Kurasawa and those who’ve never heard of him. 

BLADE: Changing gears. Were your parents disappointed that you didn’t take a conventional career path?

LEE: I’m fortunate that my mother is an artist. She has seen the value of artistry and has encouraged me to go into the arts. To some extent, I think she lives vicariously through the way I do art as a job. Still, my parents haven’t entirely shaken that immigrant success driven mentality. They believe “you can be an artist but you have to be the best.” Whatever the best means. 

BLADE: And how are they with your gender? 

LEE: My parents know that I’m nonbinary and they’ve been understanding, however I haven’t talked much about the transmasc part of it; I’m letting them take their time on that. 

BLADE: As a kid in Lafayette, Kentucky, you played bugs (Glow-Worm, Cricket, and Charlotte). What do you like playing now? 

 LEE: I especially like parts where you play yourself and get to put on different characters. If I could only be in that kind of play for the rest of my life, I’d be more than satisfied. That’s my jam.

As a trans performer it’s such a gift. I’m able to show up completely as myself and then step into different characters without quieting myself. It feels like a gift. I think about it in relation to my gender but also my race. 

BLADE: You’re current gig in a sentence?

LEE: It’s awonderful mishmash, a theatrical playground that takes you to a lot of different places in a short amount of time and leaves you thinking about your own life. 

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Theater

Theatre Prometheus spreads queer joy with ‘Galatea’

Two girls dressed as boys who find love despite the odds

Published

2 weeks ago

on

May 1, 2025

By

Cate Ginsberg as Phillida and Amber Patrice Coleman as Galatea (Photo by Charlotte Hayes)

‘Galatea’
Through May 10
Theatre Prometheus
Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center
7995 Georgia Ave, Silver Spring, Md.
$27
Theatreprometheus.org

In a timely move, Theatre Prometheus thought it would be a beneficial thing to spread a little queer joy. And since the company’s mission includes engaging audiences and artists in queer and feminist art, there was nothing to stop them. 

Co-artistic directors Tracey Erbacher and Lauren Patton Villegas, both queer, agree they’ve found that joy in John Lyly’s “Galatea,” an Elizabethan-era comedy about Galatea and Phillida, two girls dressed as boys who find love despite some rather slim odds.  

Now playing at Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center on the Takoma Park/Silver Spring campus, the upbeat offering is a mix of contemporary and period, and strives to make audiences happy. Galatea’s cast includes Amber Coleman and Cate Ginsberg as the besotted pair. 

Erbacher, also the production’s director, adds “queer joy is something that I prioritized in casting actors and interviewing production people. I asked them what it means to them, and resoundingly the reply — from both them and the play — is that queer joy is the freedom to be yourself without having to think about it.

“Galatea” was first brought to Prometheus’s attention by Caitlin Partridge, the company’s literary director. Erbacher recalls, “she strongly suggested I read this very queer play. I read it and fell absolutely in love. And because it’s a comedy — I really like directing comedy — I knew that I could lean into that while not neglecting its universal themes of young love.” 

Villegas, who’s not ordinarily drawn to the classics, was also instantly smitten with Galatea.

“Usually with classics, the language doesn’t jump out at me the way modern works do,” she says. “But not so with ‘Galatea.’ The first time I heard it read aloud, I found it easy to follow and entirely accessible in the best way.”

Whether Lyly deliberately wrote a queer play isn’t known. What’s definitely known is the play was written with an all-boy performing troupe in mind; that’s partly why there are so many young female roles, the parts 10-year-old boys were playing at the time. 

There’s not a lot known about Lyly’s personal life, mostly because he wasn’t wildly famous. What’s known about the times is that there wasn’t a concept of “gay,” but there were sodomy laws regarding homosexual activity in England geared toward men having sex with men; it was all very phallocentric, Erbacher says.

She categorically adds, “Women’s sexuality wasn’t considered in the equation. In fact, it was often asked whether women were even capable of having sex with other women. It just was not part of the conversation. If there wasn’t a dick involved it didn’t count.

“Perhaps that’s how the playwright got around it. If there were two male characters in the play he could not have done it.”

Prometheus has done adaptations of ancient myths and some classics, but in this case it’s very faithful to the original text. Other than some cuts winnowing the work down to 90 minutes, “Galatea” is pretty much exactly as Lyly wrote it. 

And that includes, “girls dressed as boys who fall in love thinking girls are boys,” says Erbacher. “And then they start to clock things: ‘I think he is as I am.’ And then they don’t care if the object of their affection is a boy or a girl, the quintessential bisexual iconic line.” 

And without spoiling a thing, the director teases, “the ending is even queerer than the rest of the play.”

Erbacher and Villegas have worked together since Prometheus’s inception 11 years ago. More recently, they became co-artistic directors, splitting the work in myriad ways. It’s a good fit: They share values but not identical artistic sensibilities allow them to exchange objective feedback.

In past seasons, the collaborative pair have produced an all-women production of “Macbeth” and a queered take on [gay] “Cymbeline,” recreating it as a lesbian love story. And when roles aren’t specifically defined male or female, they take the best actor for the part.  

With Galatea, Prometheus lightens the current mood. Erbacher says, “the hard stuff is important but exhausting. We deserve a queer rom-com, a romantic sweeping story that’s not focused on how hard it is to be queer, but rather the joy of it.”

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Theater

Timely comedy ‘Fake It’ focuses on Native American themes

Arena Stage production features two out actors

Published

3 weeks ago

on

April 25, 2025

By

Eric Stanton Betts (standing) and Brandon Delsid in ‘Fake It Until You Make It.’ (Photo by Daniel Rader)

‘Fake It Until You Make It’
Through May 4
Arena Stage, 1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets start at $59
Arenastage.org

A farce requires teamwork. And Larissa FastHorse’s “Fake It Until You Make It” now at Arena Stage is no exception. 

The timely comedy focuses on Native American nonprofits fractiously housed in a shared space. Friction rises when rivals River (Amy Brenneman), a white woman operating in the Indigenous world, goes up against the more authentic Wynona (Shyla Lefner) to win a lucrative Native-funded grant.   

While Brenneman (best known for TV’s Judging Amy) is undeniably a big draw, it takes a group collaboration to hit marks, land jokes, and pull off the well-executed physical comedy including all those carefully timed door slams.

As members of the six-person “Fake It” cast, Brandon Delsid and Eric Stanton Betts, both out actors of partly indigenous ancestry, contribute to the mayhem. Respectively, Delsid and Betts play Krys and Mark, a pair of two-spirited Native Americans who meet farcically cute and enjoy one of the play’s more satisfying arcs. 

For Krys, every attractive man is a potential next fling, but when Mark, handsome and relatively reserved, arrives on the scene, it’s something entirely different. 

Both onstage and sometimes off, Betts plays the straight man to Delsid’s waggishness. But when it comes down to real life business, the friends are on the same page: not only are the L.A.-based, up-and-coming actors intensely serious about their film and stage careers, but they’re also particularly engaged in the themes of Indigenous People found in “Fake It.” 

On a recent Wednesday following a matinee and an audience talkback, they were ready for a phone interview. 

In establishing whose voice was whose, Delsid clarified with “I’m the one who sounds a little like a Valley girl.” 

WASHINGTON BLADE: Brandon, you’ve been with the show since its early work-shopping days in 2022 and through its debut in Los Angeles and now Washington. Have things evolved? 

BRANDON DELSID: Definitely. I’ve grown up in the last couple of years and so has my character; it’s hard to know where I end and Kry begins. There’s been a real melding.

Eric and I are both queer, and to get to play these roles that are so human, imperfect, sexy, and interesting is really joyful.

As queer artists you don’t always get the chance to do work like this. So many stories are queer trauma, which is incredibly important, but it’s liberating to feel joy and ride it off into the sunset, which, without revealing too much, is kind of what we get to do.

BLADE: There’s some race shifting in “Fake It” particularly with regard to “pretendian” (a pejorative term describing a person who has falsely claimed Indigenous status). 

ERIC STANTON BETTS:  The last few years I’ve been on a journey with my cultural identity and place in the world. I’m a mixed BIPOC artist, my dad is Black and Native American by way of the Cherokee tribe and my mom is white. 

Since 2020, I’ve tried to figure out where I belong in this cultural history that I haven’t had a tie to throughout my life; it’s gratifying to find my way back to my indigeneity and be welcomed. 

In the play, race shifting is introduced through farce. But it’s never in a disrespectful way; it’s never mocked or done in a way to take away from others. The playwright parallels race shifting with gender fluidity. 

DELSID: But in life, there are people posing as Indigenous, actively taking grants, and the play goes there, we don’t hold back. Larissa, our playwright, has made it clear that she’s not trying to figure it out for us. With that in mind, we hope people leave the theater interested and curious to learn more. 

BLADE: Mark arrives kind of the middle of some crazy drama, bringing along a jolt of romance. 

BETTS:  Yeah, when I show up, we’re all sort of shot out of a cannon, struggling to keep up with the initial lie. 

DESLID: A very gay cannon. 

BLADE: What’s up next for you two?

BETTS: Both Brandon and I are up for the same part in a TV pilot, so one of us may be getting some very good news. I also have a Tyler Perry film coming out soon [he plays a model, not an unfamiliar gig for Betts]. 

DELSID: Coming up, I have a recurring part on HBO’s “The Rehearsal,” and a supporting part in “June and John,” a Luc Besson film. But doing “Fake It Until You Make It” in L.A. and now D.C. has been a special time in our lives. It’s 23/7 togetherness. There’s that hour for sleep. 

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