Theater
When I get the sensation
Baltimore lesbian playwright has ‘fresh sensibility’
‘A Peppermint Patty Christmas’
Through Dec. 18
1823 N. Charles Street, Baltimore
$10-$15
443-874-4917
By titling her new play āA Peppermint Patty Christmas,ā Kate Bishop puts a queer spin on a holiday classic. Like the beloved Peanuts TV special of everyoneās youth (āA Charlie Brown Christmasā), Bishopās piece in some ways explores the deeper meanings of the season.
And though inspired by the animated favoriteās freckle-faced Tomboy whose female sidekick addresses her as āsir,ā Bishop has written a grownup work about a lesbian striving to strengthen relationships with partner and family.
In Bishopās play (commissioned by Baltimoreās Strand Theater Company), girlfriends Patricia and Marcie live in Brooklyn where the former is a gym-owning jock and the latter, a brainy graduate student writing her dissertation on Christmas. Not a big fan of the yuletide, Patricia has vowed to change things up this year. When she takes her girlfriend to spend Christmas with her less-than-functional family in Dundalk (a working class Baltimore suburb), Patricia is intent on foregoing small talk for total honesty. Itās time to be completely above board about her life.
Bishop came out to her family long before she ever brought a girlfriend home for the holidays. Still, a lot of her play is autobiographical: Like Patricia and Marcie, Bishop and her partner of nine years are an interracial couple. But perhaps most importantly, Bishopās real life experiences with family and her career as a social worker (her clients are primarily Baltimore teens whoāve recently been diagnosed with HIV) prompts her to write ā often humorously ā about real life. Few of us, she says, truly recognize the idealized holidays we see depicted on greeting cards and commercials.
Last June, Bishop began her association with the Strand when her first play, a one act titled āHow I learned to Eat Pussy,ā was produced as part of their 2010 Friends and Neighbors Festival. Jayme Kilburn, the companyās artistic director, was initially attracted to the playwrightās unapologetic and mature voice. She explains,
āI have read too many plays where the central character is a lesbian in high school and falls in love with a pretty girl, experiments, is tortured by her feelings of inadequacy, etc., etc.,” Kilburn says. “Although those plays have their place ā¦ this was very different from that. It celebrated the discovery of her sexual orientation and was a very positive and detailed account of her first experience with a woman.ā
Not surprising given the title, Bishopās play struck a chord with Baltimoreās lesbian, theater-going community. The show ran for only a weekend, but each of the performances was sold out. Lesbians were letting the Strand know that they wanted to see more work about lesbian women, so when the company decided to commission an original holiday piece (to add to its season comprised of plays all written by women), they went to Bishop.
A resident of Baltimoreās Mt. Vernon neighborhood, the cityās cultural epicenter, for almost five years, Bishop, 37, grew up in the Pittsburgh suburbs and lived in Cleveland for a decade. She has a Bachelor of Arts in gender studies from Hiram College and a master’s in social work from Case Western Reserve University.
āThis theater stuff is still pretty new to me, but I now feel a future in it,ā Bishop says. āWhile I still need to work on some of the basics, I think I have a fresh sensibility and a lot to say. More and more Iām writing for a broader audience.ā
Kilburn concurs.
āKate has said that she wants to see more butch women on stage, and is not entirely satisfied with the current portrayals of lesbian women,” she says. “I think Kate could be instrumental in pushing lesbian characters into the spotlight. Anybody can watch her plays and relate to her characters. The Strand’s mission is to promote women’s voices, and Kate’s work fits into the mission perfectly.ā
Theater
Sexy, spooky werewolf tale comes to Congressional Cemetery
āLĆ½kos ĆnthrÅposā explores story of men who live double lives
LĆ½kos ĆnthrÅpos
Oct. 31-Nov. 24
Thursday through Sunday at 8 p.m., 75 minutes without intermission
Congressional Cemetery
1801 E St., S.E.
Tickets: bob-bartlett.com
Just in time for Halloween, Bob Bartlett is reprising āLĆ½kos ĆnthrÅpos.ā With his sexy, spooky werewolf tale, the gay playwright brings his passion for horror and site-specific productions to historic Congressional Cemetery on Capitol Hill.
āVampires are great and I love ghosts and kind of believe in the spirit world, but werewolves are my favorite,ā he says.
Bartlett is interested in the duality of men who turn into wolves and consequently live double lives. The character heās written is on the queer spectrum but not particularly discriminating. However, one night a month when the moon is full, he reliably leaves his wife and kids and hooks up with a guy. The playās conceit starts off with two men cruising in the dark outdoors.
Before penning āLĆ½kos ĆnthrÅpos,ā Bartlett believed āthere isnāt a lot of horror theater, and what there is, isnāt particularly sophisticated. Itās kind of grand guignol, or tongue in cheek,ā and he was ā and remains ā eager to expand on that.
So, he spent a month in the summer of 2022 in Rhodes, Greece, immersed in lycanthropy. Based in an Airbnb far from any touristy hubbub, he explored the countryside and wrote his werewolf-themed play.
āIt was sunny, dry summertime, and I wrote a good deal of the play in ruins and ancient amphitheaters; I looked at classical texts, including Ovidās āMetamorphoses,ā and included much of what I learned in my play.ā
His characters talk about rocky landscape, the heavens, and the effect of the moon on the Earth ranging from tides to our moods and, of course, its impact on werewolves. Itās all a bit more nuanced than the classic Hollywood take, i.e. Lon Chaney Jrās 1941 horror hit āThe Wolf Man.ā
In keeping with the playwrightās love for site specific locales, āLĆ½kos ĆnthrÅposā premiered around Halloween in 2022 in a clearing in the woods on a farm near Bartlettās home in Davidsonville, Md.
The team that opened the two-hander in the woods, director Alex Levy and cast members Patrick Kilpatrick and Nicholas Gerwitz, remain on board for the Congressional Cemetery version.
Moving the story from the farm to an urban cemetery in the Nationās Capital presented some amusing challenges: āI definitely did some tweaking; rewrites include references to the city and all the dog walkers found in the cemetery. Itās been fun.ā
A horror fanatic since childhood, Bartlett cut his teeth on George A. Romeroās āNight of the Living Dead,ā when his aunt let him stay up past his bedtime and watch the scary classic on TV, and though he only made it through the first five minutes, and didnāt didnāt sleep for a week, he was hooked.
Growing up in Accokeek, Md., Bartlett was introduced to theater through his high school pit band. Later he acted, and did some directing at the community theater level. After returning to school for a second masterās in playwrighting, he took up writing.
With his current production, he says āThe gods had my back. We open on Halloween and its first weekend will be performed under a full moon,ā says Bartlett. āPeople (about 30 per performance) are asked to bring a fold up chair, blanket and lantern or flashlight. They will meet as a group and walk together, with a guide, to the performance site at the cemetery where the actors will be in place surrounded by a circle of eerie light. Death metal will be pounding from the woods.
āSometimes itās more terrifying if the violence is offstage. I believe in the mantra donāt show the monster, so there are moments when the characters turn off the lights.ā
Also, a longtime professor of theater at Bowie State University, Bartlett is a semester from retiring after which he intends on becoming āa full-time creepy writer.ā
Upcoming projects include a play about the controversial and closeted FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover and his longtime romantic partner Clyde Tolson, who not incidentally are buried just a few yards apart in Congressional Cemetery. Largely fictional, the play wonāt be site specific, but, says Bartlett, will have its own monster in Hoover.
Theater
A contemporary take on āRomeo and Julietā at Folger
Creating a world that appeals to young audiences
āRomeo and Julietā
Through November 10
Folger Theatre
201 East Capitol St. S.E., Washington, D.C.
$20-$84
Folger.edu
In out director Raymond O. Caldwellās production of āRomeo and Julietā currently playing at Folger Theatre, the Capulet family are Puerto Rican except for Lord Capulet (Todd Scoffield) who is white with a Southern accent.
Fran Tapia (Lady Capulet), Luz Nicolas (Nurse), and Caro Reyes Rivera (Juliet) all speak Spanish when they are together. Rosa Garay LĆ³pez (Translator and Interpreter) translated certain scenes into Spanish. The Montagues are played by a cast of multiracial and multiethnic actors.
Tapia, a Helen Hayes Award-winning actor, identifies as part of the LGBTQ community. She says, “I am Chilean, Latina, queer and a proud immigrant.”
After receiving her acting degree in Santiago de Chile, Catholic University, Tapia started working professionally as an actor and a dancer with contemporary dance companies.
The newly single actor has been living in D.C. since 2019 and plans to remain based here. Recently, she shared her experiences playing Julietās mother in Shakespeareās story of the star-crossed lovers, a play she first read as a girl in Santiago.
WASHINGTON BLADE: Typically, Lady Capulet is portrayed as detached, a woman who canāt even remember her daughterās age. Whatās your spin on the Capulet matriarch?
FRAN TAPIA: From what Iāve read and seen, including productions and films, sheās a woman who has distanced herself from her daughter.
I see the part differently. I want to make it special, to get away from the hard mother. She does care about her husband and daughter. Her expectations are shaped by society more than anything, she has conservative goals, but that doesnāt mean that she doesnāt love her daughter.
BLADE: What else about your Lady Capulet is unique?
TAPIA: First of all, sheās Puerto Rican. She speaks in Spanish and English. She loves to sing. Sheās a party girl. Sheās a devoted wife and partner in crime with Lord Capulet, sharing both his ambition and devotion to family.
Lady Capulet wants to look pretty and she loves money. And she wants to be blonde, of course. I wear 26-inch blonde extensions for the part. Iām giving so much drama to it. Itās fun and dramatic and over the top.
She can share secrets with the Nurse played by Luz [Nicolas]. There are nuances with how she speaks to her. Lady Capulet speaks English when she wants to be formal. Luz brings the comedy. Sheās also, a very good dramatic actress.
BLADE: Itās a contemporary take on the Bardās masterpiece.
TAPIA: Itās super contemporary. Raymond [Caldwell] is looking to create a world that appeals to young audiences. Heās working with so many designers doing projection, lighting, and sound. There are so many surprises for you.
BLADE: Am I right in guessing itās not set in Verona.
TAPIA: Itās set in a fictionalized Washington, D.C., inspired by the election year. The Capulets are a conservative political family based on nobody in particular. Theyāre struggling for power through the marriage of their daughter. Unlike the source material, theyāre not trying to marry off a teenager. Itās more about preserving a legacy. Thatās scary to lose when youāre used to having it.
BLADE: How is working with Raymond? Iāve heard so many good things about him.
TAPIA: Prior to joining the cast, Iād heard from friends that he was good, but I had no idea how good. When I got this part, I gave myself the opportunity to offer my resources like singing. And heās been super receptive.
Raymond is very clear and bold. Lady Capulet has problems with addiction more intense than I imagined. I wonāt specify but weāre diving into all of that. There are so many kinds of addiction including social media for instance. In real life, Iām addicted to Diet Coke as anyone in the cast can tell you.
BLADE: Is Lady Capulet a part youāve longed to play?
TAPIA: Not really, but under the direction of Raymond Iām loving every second of it. His view of things has given me a lot of freedom that I didnāt expect.
Theater
āActing their asses offā in āException to the Ruleā
Studio production takes place during after-school detention
āException to the Ruleā
Through Sunday, October 27
Studio Theatre
1501 14th St. NW, Washington, D.C.
$40-$95
Studiotheatre.org
After-school detention is a bore, but itās especially tiresome on the last day of classes before a holiday.
In Dave Harrisās provocative new play āException to the Ruleā (now at Studio Theatre) thatās just the case.
Itās Friday, and the usual suspects are reporting to room 111 for detention before enjoying the long MLK weekend. First on the scene are blaring ābad girlā Mikayla (Khalia Muhammad) and nerdy stoner Tommy (Steven Taylor Jr.), followed by mercurial player Dayrin (Jacques Jean-Mary), kind Dasani (Shana Lee Hill), and unreadable Abdul (Khouri St.Surin).Ā
The familiar is jaw-droppingly altered by the entrance of āCollege Bound Erikaā (Sabrina Lynne Sawyer), a detention first timer whose bookworm presence elicits jokes from the others: What happened? You fail a test?
Dasani (whoās teased for being named for designer water) dubs Erika āSweet Peaā and welcomes her to the rule-breaking fold. Together the regulars explain how detention works: The moderator, Mr. Bernie, shows up, signs their slips, and then they go. But today the teacher is tardy.
As they wait, the kids pass the time laughing, trash talking, flirting, and yelling. When not bouncing around the classroom, Dayrin is grooming his hair, while Dasani endlessly reapplies blush and lip gloss. At one point two boys almost come to blows, nearly repeating the cafeteria brawl that landed them in detention in the first place.
Itās loud. Itās confrontational. And itās funny.
Erika is naively perplexed: āI thought detention was quiet. A place where everyone remembers the mistakes that got them here and then learns how to not make the same mistakes again.ā
For room 111, the only connection to the outside world is an increasingly glitchy and creepy intercom system. Announcements (bus passes, the schoolās dismal ranking, the impending weekend lockdown, etc.) are spoken by the unseen but unmistakably stentorian-voiced Craig Wallace.
Dave Harris first conceived āException to the Ruleā in 2014 during his junior year at Yale University. In the program notes, the Black playwright describes āException to the Ruleā as āa single set / six actors on a stage, just acting their asses off.ā Itās true, and they do it well.
Miranda Haymon is reprising their role as director (they finely helmed the playās 2022 off-Broadway debut at Roundabout Theatre Company in New York). Haymon orchestrates a natural feel to movement in the classroom, and without entirely stilling the action on stage (makeup applying, scribbling, etc.), the out director gives each member of the terrific cast their revelatory moment. In a busy room, we learn that Tommyās goofiness belies trauma, that Mikayla is admirably resourceful, and most startling, why Erika, the schoolās top student, is in detention.
Mr. Bernie is clearly a no-show. And despite his absence, the regulars are bizarrely loath to leave the confines of 111 for fear of catching yet another detention. Of course, itās emblematic of something bigger. Still, things happen within the room.
While initially treated as a sort of mascot, awkwardly quiet Erika becomes rather direct in her questions and observations. Suddenly, sheās rather stiffly doling out unsolicited advice.
Itās as if an entirely new person has been thrown into the mix.
Not all of her guidance goes unheeded. Take fighting for instance. At Erikaās suggestion, St.Surinās Abdul refrains from kicking Dayrinās ass. (Just feet from the audience gathered for a recent matinee in Studioās intimate Mead Theatre, Abdulās frustration resulting from anger while yearning for a world of principled order is palpable as evidenced when a single tear rolled down the actorās right cheek)
Set designer Tony Cisek renders a no-frills classroom with cinder block walls, a high and horizontal row of frosted fixed windows that become eerily prison like when overhead fluorescent lighting is threateningly dimmed.
Still, no matter how dark, beyond the classroom door, a light remains aglow, encouraging the kids to ponder an exit plan.
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