Arts & Entertainment
Down by the seashore
Studio’s one-man show a clever exploration of longing and passion
‘The History of Kisses’
Through July 3
The Studio Theatre, 1501 14th St. NW
202-332-3300
www.studiotheatre.com‘Purge’
Through July 3
SCENA Theatre
at H Street Playhouse, 1365 H St. NE
703-683-2824 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting
www.scenatheater.org
Standing on a stage disguised as a stretch of sandy beach, a lone actor dressed in casual street clothes breaks out into his rendition of an old English seafarer’s chantey. He beckons his listeners to follow him to unknown places and because his song is so full of longing, promise and mystery, we gladly go along for the journey.
“The History of Kisses” — David Cale’s terrific one-man show making its world premiere at Studio Theatre — is a collection of interconnected monologues detailing mostly random erotic encounters that take place close to and on the ocean. The work’s central and most likable character James (a gay writer like Cale) is temporarily holed-up in a seaside California motel working on a collection of stories about desire and epiphany. His motel neighbors and a few more established friends are the subject of his intimate sketches.
Slim and bald, Cale (who not only performs but wrote the show) wholly inhabits his characters whether it’s Julie, a generally sensible woman who happily recalls her brief but memorable affair with a sexy fat man she picked up on a flight from New York to San Francisco; or Artie, an old married builder from New York who shares about a long ago, chance romantic encounter with Judy Garland on the beach in Malibu.
Moments move from funny to poignant. In a dream sequence, Cale transforms into an Australian surfing Adonis who doubles as the motel’s front desk clerk and funnily gives pointers on how to physically please a “Sheila” (i.e. woman in his Aussie jargon). That same surfer is later brokenhearted when his new married girlfriend dumps him, but ultimately finds dramatic renewal from the sea when he’s literally uplifted by a herd of whales. Love-weary James shares his own chance encounter with a middle-aged dentist who has recently come out.
Cale is a masterful storyteller. His long and impressive bio includes films, Broadway and music. He’s written lyrics for Elvis Costsello and Deborah Harry. “The History of Kisses” is his fourth solo work he’s done at Studio. While here and there British-born Cale’s American accents are a little shaky, the way in which he captures his characters’ physicality is uncanny — he can play both older women and young studs convincingly. His quirky, vulnerable subjects are finely drawn. The material is personal, fun, and even a little heartbreaking. Ultimately, Cale offers an inspiring testimony to human resilience.
Across town at the H Street Playhouse where SCENA is presenting Finnish-Estonian playwright Sofi Oksanen’s “Purge,” life is dangerous and memories are more painful. Set in both 1991 Estonia as well 1950s Estonia under Soviet rule, the bold drama tells the story of three generations of women who are the victims of sexual violence and the ongoing trauma that ensues.
Tucked away in her rustic, neatly tended dwelling old Aliide (Kerry Waters) bides her time in a changing world. Despite misgivings, she gives refuge to Zara (Colleen Delaney), a badly beaten woman on the run from pimps. In flashbacks we learn the old woman’s younger self (Irina Koval) and her young niece were once abused by Soviet soldiers.
While most of the work’s horrific violence is implied, interestingly the work’s most combative scene is a knock down drag out fight pitting Zara against old Aliide. The altercation, which includes Zara shoving the old woman’s heads in a full bed chamber, actually leads to the two women fully understanding one other, forging a bond and in the end, redemption.
To portray the tale’s strong women, director Robert McNamara has assembled an impressive trio: Waters and Koval are equally strong yet flawed as young and old Aliide. Delaney is known for giving theatergoers their money’s worth, and her emotionally strung out Zara is no exception. Eric Lucas offers some comic relief as Aliide’s communist doctrinaire husband, and Lee Ordeman is appropriately handsome and restless as young Aliide’s unrequited love. Stas Wronka and Armand Sindoni play the heavies (Soviet soldiers and pimps).
The playwright Oksanen identifies as bisexual. In 2009 she received an award from the organizers of Helsinki Pride for her activism on behalf of LGBT people in the Baltic states (Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania) and Russia. “Purge” also exists as a novel and a French film version is set to be released in 2012.
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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Theater
Minimal version of ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ heading to Dupont Underground
Director Nick Westrate on this traveling take on Williams’s masterwork
‘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.

