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America’s Bard

Legendary gay playwright Tennessee Williams honored in centennial festival

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Tennessee Williams' homosexuality widely informed his work, often in coded ways. (Photo courtesy of the Tennessee Williams Papers, Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University)

He is the poet laureate of the American theater.

He pursued young men and boys with sexual voracity, especially hustlers, often rough trade, and those obsessively so in his latter years, but he also delighted greatly in the company of women.

His greatest creations on stage were in fact women, though some argue they were really coded figures who were actually gay males in drag. Certainly most of his heroines — especially perhaps Blanche DuBois in “A Streetcar named Desire” — were extensions of himself, valorous but doomed, haunted by desire, shadowed by failure, driven to despair and sometimes even to madness or to death.

He is Thomas Lanier Williams, born 100 years ago this weekend on Palm Sunday, March 26, 1911, in Columbus, Miss., to Edwina and Cornelius Williams. He was reared in an Episcopal rectory there, where his grandfather, Rev. Walter Dakin, was the local Episcopal priest, and later changed his name to “Tennessee” in honor of that same grandfather, who was born in that state.

Williams’ sense of sin and salvation in sexuality was central to his inner drives, says Derek Goldman, artistic director of this weekend’s Tennessee Williams Centennial Festival, a raft of plays and staged readings and panel discussions featuring appearances by among others Edward Albee and John Waters (Visit performingarts.georgetown.edu/tenncentfest/festival/ for details). For a long time, Williams was closeted about being gay, though he let it be known to his friends. Goldman says that though Williams had a long-time love relationship with his life partner Frankie Merlo, he was also “very promiscuous, and slept around a lot,” when “his need was for several boys a day at times, and the younger and prettier the better.”

Georgetown University's production of 'Glass Menagerie,' one of Tennessee Williams' most famous works. From left are recent alumni Rachel Caywood and Clark Young with Prof. Sarah Marshall. (Photo by Sue Kessler, courtesy of Georgetown University)

In his writing, however, Goldman says, the thirst to slake his need for for constant sexual consummation, took a different form through sublimation, because in his writing, he “explores not so much the sex but how those desires have a place in society” — or do not. Goldman is also associate professor of theater and performance studies at Georgetown University, where the Williams Festival — known for short as “Tenn Cent Fest” — is housed, and he directs the university’s Davis Performing Arts Center. Goldman says the festival, most of which runs from today through Sunday, has “certainly been a labor of love,” including being able to teach a seminar on Williams work and “for this past year” he says he has been “steeped in all things Williams.”

Goldman’s own first encounter with Williams came on cable TV, however, when he was about 13 and saw the film adaptations of “Streetcar Named Desire” (1951,)  and “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” (1958). In each case, of course, Hollywood producers insisted in excisions, and Goldman admits that “I now blush at the fact that they were so sanitized, taking much of the sexuality out.”

For example, Goldman points out that in the original version of “Cat” (which was on Broadway in 1955 when it was directed by Elia Kazan and won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama), it’s clear that Brick (first played by the actor Ben Gazzara) is actually bisexual, or even gay, as he admits to his feelings for his pro football buddy Skipper who has committed suicide. Goldman says that “the back story for Brick is his relationship with Skipper,” and that while Brick’s “sexuality is pretty complicated,” he has certainly “lost interest in Maggie sexually,” and “we understand that he definitely has homosexual desires.”

We, of course, mainly know Williams from his work. That is the only reason he rates such a “Tenn Cent Fest” weekend, more than a quarter century after his death, as Goldman is now curating. But behind and beneath that work was always his beating heart. Reading his private writing shows him “so emotionally naked, as he was working out his own stuff,” Goldman says.

“It shows the undulation between guilt and shame (at being gay), not being accepted for who he really was, and also being able to claim it with pride,” Goldman says. “It was not just one thing. It was a stew of contradictions pulsing back and forth in private.”

In one of Williams’ one-act plays, “Suddenly, Last Summer,” that opened off-Broadway in 1958 as part of a double-bill titled “In The Garden District,” the play is basically two long monologues, considered one of his starkest and most poetic works. Best known from the 1959 film adaptation, it is a mystery melodrama about why Catherine (Elizabeth Taylor in the film) has been institutionalized for severe emotional disturbance, the result of the violent death of her cousin Sebastian by dismemberment and cannibalism by local boys, the objects of his predatory sexual desire, she had witnessed during their trip to Spain. Sebastian’s wealthy mother, Violet Venable (Katharine Hepburn) is determined to hide the exact circumstances of her son’s death and the fact that he was gay.

Maya Roth, Georgetown’s director of theater and performance studies, is directing “Suddenly, Last Summer” at the Davis Performing Arts Center April 7-16. “It is a play about violence against homosexual men,” she says. “It’s about Sebastian,” who is never seen, except at a distance in memory, “and his queerness that can’t be mentioned, the love that dare not speak its name, that’s what ‘Suddenly, Last Summer’ is about.” Though sanitized in the film version, it was written as one of his early plays but for a long time remained unproduced. When it was finally presented on stage, it was a kind of “coming out” for Williams, she says, “and it was really radical, and the reason why Hollywood had to airbrush it out.”

Asked about the legacy of Williams — his many plays as well as novels and short stories and occasional screenplays — Goldman says, “it’s more than a legacy, it’s the urgency still in his work, because it’s still very fresh,” in what he calls its “incredible lyricism and heat, the poetry of its fierce and ferocious imagery, in its language as windows into the soul.”

“He’s the poet of the vulnerable, whose compassion is in the size of his tenderness and faith in the beauty of the broken, those who have suffered the collateral damages of a world that doesn’t celebrate individuality, that doesn’t make allowances for the beauty of the broken,” Goldman says. “He’s the one who pierces the heart and the intellect, but it’s the heart, the emotional connection that we have to his work, that is most indelible.”

“He’s our American Shakespeare,” Goldman says, “combining the elevation of lyricism and magician-ship of language with the power of great story-telling,” and for Goldman, of all of Williams’ work there stands what he calls “the holy trinity,” his own “personal pantheon” of Williams’ three greatest creations: “The Glass Menagerie” (1944), “Streetcar Named Desire” (1948) and “Camino Real” (1953). The latter is being performed in a staged reading directed by Goldman tonight at 7:45 p.m.

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Theater

A hilarious ‘Twelfth Night’ at Folger full of ‘elegant kink’

Nonbinary actor Alyssa Keegan stars as Duke Orsino

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Alyssa Keegan (Photo courtesy Folger Theatre)

‘Twelfth Night’
Through June 22
Folger Theatre
201 East Capitol St., S.E.
$20-$84
Folger.edu

Nonbinary actor Alyssa Keegan (they/them)loves tapping into the multitudes within. 

Currently Keegan plays the melancholic Duke Orsino in Folger Theatre’s production of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy “Twelfth Night.” Director Mei Ann Teo describes the production as “sexy, hilarious, and devastating” and full of “elegant kink.” 

Washington-based, Keegan enjoys a busy and celebrated career. Her vast biography includes Come From Away at Ford’s Theatre; Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Helen Hayes Award, Best Actress) and Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive, both at Round House Theatre; Diana Son’s Stop Kiss directedby Holly Twyford for No Rules Theatre Company; and Contractions at Studio Theatre, to name just a few. 

In addition to acting, Keegan works as a polyamory and ethical non-monogamy life and relationship coach, an area of interest that grew out of personal exploration. For them, coaching seems to work hand in hand with acting. 

WASHINGTON BLADE: You’re playing the lovesick Orsino in Twelfth Night. How did that come about? 

ALYSSA KEEGAN: The director was looking to cast a group of actors with diverse identities; throughout auditions, there were no constraints regarding anyone’s assigned sex at birth. It was really a free for all. 

BLADE: What’s your approach to the fetching, cod-piece clad nobleman?

KEEGAN: Offstage I identify as completely nonbinary; I love riding in this neutral middle space. But I also love cosplay. The ability to do that in the play gives me permission to dive completely into maleness. 

So, when I made that decision to play Orsino as a bio male, suddenly the part really cracked open for me. I began looking for clues about his thoughts and opinions about things like his past relationships and his decision not to date older women.

Underneath his mask of bravura and sexuality, and his firmness of feelings, he’s quite lonely and has never really felt loved. It makes sense to me why his love for Olivia is so misguided and why he might fall in love with the Cesario/Viola character.

BLADE: As an actor, do you ever risk taking on the feelings of your characters? 

KEEGAN: Prior to my mental health education, yes, and that could be toxic for me. I’ve since learned that the nervous system can’t tell the difference between real emotional distress and a that of a fully embodied character. 

So, I created and share the Empowered Performer Project. [a holistic approach to performance that emphasizes the mental and emotional well-being of performing artists]. It utilizes somatic tools that help enormously when stepping into a character. 

BLADE: Has changing the way you work affected your performances?

KEEGAN: I think I’m much better now. I used to have nearly debilitating stage fright. I’d spend all day dreading going onstage. I thought that was just part of the job. Now, I’ve learned to talk to my body. Prior to a performance, I can now spend my offstage time calmly gardening, working with my mental health clients, or playing with my kid. I’m just present in my life in a different way. 

BLADE: Is Orsino your first time playing a male role?

KEEGAN: No. In fact, the very first time I played a male role was at the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, Va. I played Hipolito in Thomas Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy. 

As Hipolito, I felt utterly male in the moment, so much so that I had audience members see me later after the show and they were surprised that I was female. They thought I was a young guy in the role. There’s something very powerful in that.

BLADE: Do you have a favorite part? Male or female? 

KEEGAN: That’s tough but I think it’s Maggie the Cat. I played the hyper-female Maggie in Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at Round House. In the first act she didn’t stop talking for 51 minutes opposite Gregory Wooddell as Brick who barely had to speak. That lift was probably the heaviest I’ve ever been asked to do in acting. 

BLADE: What about Folger’s Twelfth Night might be especially appealing to queer audiences?

KEEGAN: First and foremost is presentation. 99% of the cast identify as queer in some way. 

The approach to Shakespeare’s text is one of the most bold and playful that I have ever seen.  It’s unabashedly queer. The actors are here to celebrate and be loud and colorful and to advocate. It’s a powerful production, especially to do so close to the Capitol building, and that’s not lost on any of us.

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Theater

‘We Are Gathered’ a powerful contemplation of queer equality

Arena production dives fearlessly into many facets of same-sex connection

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Nic Ashe (Free) and Kyle Beltran in ‘We Are Gathered.’ (Photo by T Charles Erickson Photography)

‘We Are Gathered’
Through June 15
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
$70-$110
Arenastage.org

Aptly billed as a queer love story, Tarell Alvin McCraney’s terrific new play “We Are Gathered” (now at Arena Stage) dives deeply and fearlessly into the many facets of a same-sex connection and all that goes with it. 

McCraney’s tale of two gay men’s romance unfolds entertainingly over two acts. Wallace Tre (Kyle Beltran), a tense architect, and his younger partner Free (Nic Ashe), a campy and fun-loving musician with a deep sense of quiet and peace are contemplating marriage after five years together, but one of the two isn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of imminent matrimony.

At 14, Wallace Tre (nicknamed Dubs) first learned about gay cruising via renowned British playwright Caryl Churchill’s seminal work “Cloud Nine.” It was an intoxicating introduction that led Dubs to an exciting world of sex and risk. 

Soon after, a nearby park became a thrilling constant in his life. It remains a source of excitement, fun, danger, and fulfillment. The local cruising zone is also a constant in McCraney’s play.

One memorable evening, Dubs experienced a special night in the woods, a shadowy hour filled with exhilaration and surprise. That’s when Dubs unpredictably learned something he’d never felt before. That night in the park, he met and fell madly in love with Free. 

In addition to being a talented playwright, McCraney is the Academy Award-winning Black and queer screenwriter of “Moonlight,” the 2016 film. He’s happy to be a part of WorldPride 2025, and grateful to Arena for making space for his play on its stage. McCraney says he wrote “We Are Gathered” as a contemplation of queer marriage and the right for same-sex couples, like opposite-sex couples, to marry anywhere in the United States.

For Dubs, it’s important that Free speak openly about how they met in the park. He’d like Free to share the details of their coming together with his supportive grandparents, Pop Pop (Craig Wallace) and Mama Jae (out actor Jade Jones). As far as they know, their grandson met Dubs at a lovely gathering with a nice crowd assembled under a swanky canopy. When in truth it was a park busy with horny guys cruising beneath a canopy of leafy verdure.

Understandably, Free is more than a tad embarrassed to reveal that he enjoyed al fresco sex with Dubs prior to knowing his boyfriend’s name. Clearly, in retrospect, both feel that their initial meeting is a source of discomfort, tinged with awkwardness.  

There is a lot more to “We Are Gathered” than cruising. Dubs and Free are ardently liked by friends and family. Both are attractive and smart. Yet, they’re different. Free is quite easy going while Dubs is, at times, pricklier.  

While Free is part of a happy family, Dubs’s people aren’t entirely easy. He grew up with a strung-out mother and a cold father (Kevin Mambo). Yet, his sister Punkin (Nikolle Salter), an astronaut, is very caring and close to him. While she doesn’t necessarily like “the gay stuff,” she very much wants to live in a world where there’s room for her gay brother. 

Adeptly directed by Kent Gash, the production is memorable, and it’s not his first collaboration with McCraney. Ten years ago, Gash, who’s Black and queer, staged McCraney’s “Choir Boys” at Studio Theatre, another well-written and finely staged work.

“We Are Gathered” is performed in the round in Arena’s cavernous Fichandler Stage. The space is both a forest and various rooms created by designer Jason Sherwood and lighting designer Adam Honoré. It’s a world created by elevating a circular platform surrounded by charming street lamps both hanging overhead and lining the perimeter. 

Ultimately, what takes place in “We Are Gathered” is a party, and something even more; it’s a paean to marriage, and a call to a sacrament. 

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Trans performer, juggler premiering one-woman show

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Lucy Eden stars in ‘Circus of the Self’ at Spooky Action Theater.  (Photo courtesy of Spooky Action Theater)  

Circus of the Self
May 29-June 6
Spooky Action Theater
1810 16th St., N.W.
Pay-What-You-Can: May 2
All other performances: $35
Spookyaction.org

For Lucy Eden, tricks have proved a way into theater.

The Oakland, Calif.-based trans performer and juggler is premiering her one-woman show “Circus of the Self” at Spooky Action Theater in conjunction with WorldPride. 

Directed by Spooky Action’s artistic director Elizabeth Dinkova, the autobiographical busking show is a unique blend of circus and serious storytelling.   

Juggler first met director several years ago in Atlanta. Eden explains, “She was working at a theater down the street from the juggling club where I spent a lot of time. She needed people for a street fair. I agreed. Another collaboration soon followed.” 

Previously, Eden had worked mostly as a roaming performer at Atlanta corporate events and street style pre-game shows for the Braves: “Those environments were a good way to work on material, to learn what tricks make people stop their talking and turn their attention to me,” she says.

Now based in Oakland, Calif., Eden, 40, has created a 77-minute-long one-woman show infused with burlesque, expert juggling, and a personal, sometimes difficult, story.  

While she hesitates to say it’s the obligation of all trans people to tell their stories, she says, “In these times, if you get the opportunity, I believe you ought to take it.” 

Recently, she took a break from preparations, to talk life and showbiz.

BLADE: How exactly did you learn circus tricks? 

EDEN: I’m autodidactic. I taught myself to juggle in the last semester of college. Things had gone wrong and I was looking for distraction. So, when I found a “three ball learn to juggle” kit, I never looked back. That lead to advanced juggling, unicycling, and balancing objects on my face. 

Things began to look up. Today, I try to resist everything in my life going back to circus tricks, it almost always does. 

BLADE: It sounds almost preordained. 

EDEN: For sure. It changed everything. Circus skills force you to face your own failure. When you drop a ball, you can’t convince yourself or the audience that it didn’t happen. Performing, like life, forces you to develop capacities to deal with internal and external failures. 

It teaches us not take ourselves, societal rules, or the idea of what’s success too seriously. 

BLADE: Juggling at a cocktail party to baring your past before a rapt audience must be quite a stretch.

EDEN: It is, but rather than making a dramatic leap, I leveraged the fun and draw of circus to engage people in a more difficult conversation. 

BLADE: Spooky Action’s website warns about “frank discussions of transphobia and mental health.” 

EDEN: Well yeah, I grew up in rural Georgia in the 1990s. You can only imagine. Trans is integral to my identity, and a hot button term right now. I think everyone sees and hears a lot of things about trans people that don’t in fact come from actual trans people. 

A big part of why I wrote this show and brought it to D.C. is because I really want audiences to have as intimate and revealing look at me as a trans persona as I can give them. I think it’s only through knowing that we can get beyond all the noise, misinformation, and fear mongering.  

BLADE: Lately I hear a lot of artists bandying about the term “queer joy.” Woolly’s website uses the term in describing aspects of your show. What does it mean to you?

EDEN: It’s an important thingfor us all to be focused on right now, but we’re in a place where joy is hard to access. So, to me, it’s complex; it’s an important yet nuanced pursuit. 

BLADE: As a part of the vast and promising WorldPride (through June 8) entertainment lineup, what makes your show stand out?

EDEN: It’s fun. I wrote “Circus of the Self” with a queer audience in mind. I spend a lot of time and creative energy performing for a general audience. I want this to be different. As far as I know, there’s nothing quite like my show out there. 

There are a lot of shows that are a combination of storytelling and circus parts but they tend to be surface level entertainment. I think of this as more standup with circus layered on; it’s modeled after queer comedians like Hannah Gadsby and Tig Notaro whose work is driven more by personality than jokes. 

I have tried to write a show for a queer audience. It has all the things I need to see for myself but never have.

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