Arts & Entertainment
Unequivocally gay
Oregon-based theater vet brings collaboration to Arena

āEquivocationā
Through Jan. 1
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth Street, SW
$40-$80
202-488-3300
arenastage.org

Bill Rauch, director of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, brought his companyās āEquivocationā to Washington for a collaboration with Arena Stage. (Blade photo by Michael Key)
Bill Rauch openly admits he has a gay agenda.
āOf course I do,ā he says. āAs a gay man I want to see LGBT lives reflected on the stage. For me itās all part of the human experience.ā
While āEquivocationā ā the political thriller heās brought to Arena Stage from the Tony Award-winning Oregon Shakespeare Festival where Rauch is artistic director ā features a gay British monarch, it was the workās clarity, force and theatricality that first caught his attention. āItās a period piece thatās entirely contemporary in language and the way it explores the overlapping of politics, religion and art. As I read the script for the first time my heart began pounding harder and harder. That doesnāt happen very often.ā
Set in 1604 London, playwright Bill Cainās smart and entertaining play follows William āShagspeareā and his theatrical troupe as they struggle to complete a royal commission about the Gunpowder Plot that both pleases King James I and isnāt entirely untrue. With six actors playing about 30 roles in several plays within the play, this darkly funny backstage story covers a lot of relevant territory including power, politics, religion, national security, terrorism, theater, father/daughter relationships, friendships and honesty.
A first-time collaboration between the Festival and Arena, āEquivocationā reunites the top-notch original cast (lead by Broadway actor Anthony Heald as Shag) and creative team from its 2009 world premiere production.
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The last time Rauch worked at Arena was in 1993 when he staged āA Community Carol,ā an inner-city take on the Dickensā Christmas classic featuring a large cast of professional and nonprofessional local actors. Though the venture was risky, it proved both a critical and commercial success. It was also indicative of the work Rauch was doing with his then-troupe Cornerstone Theater Company (which co-produced the show).
Rauch attended Harvard where he majored in English and was heavily involved in campus theatrics. Shortly after graduating, he and some college friends including his now husband, actor/director Christopher Liam Moore, founded Cornerstone in 1986. Initially operating out of Rauchās parentsā home in Northern Virginia, the company eventually traveled the country creating theater by collaborating with locals, typically in small communities. Since 1992, the company has been based in Los Angeles.
āIt was a great run, but after 20 years with Cornerstone I was ready to move on. I became curious to know another kind of bigger theater. (Based in Ashland, Ore., the Festival is among the oldest and largest professional non-profit theaters in the nation and operates on a $30 million budget). He was named artistic director in 2007.
At the Festival, Rauch has gained a reputation for expanding the companyās scope, taking artistic chances and being an all-around nice guy. His staging efforts include an urban America 1970s-set āMeasure for Measure.ā The male actor who played Mistress Overdone, the brothel madam, portrayed her as a preoperative transsexual. She lands in jail where she is stripped naked and revealed to be a biological male. āIt was an intense moment in the play,ā he says. āFor the character itās a shameful experience. Some of the audience laughed. Others cried. There was a lot of discomfort.ā
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Together 27 years, Rauch and Moore (who acts and directs at the Festival) have two sons, aged 11 and 6. Theyāre entirely different, says Rauch. The older loves sports and cars. Heās āall boyā (a term that Rauch loathes but deems apt nonetheless) and the younger is very much into everything princess. In fact, he regularly wore a princess gown to pre-school for two years. Both fathers are perfectly happy to allow their kids to express themselves in whatever way they choose, and fortunately, Rauch notes, Ashland is a progressive town.
Part of what drew Rauch to Arena is his longtime friendship with artistic director Molly Smith. In ways, heās viewed her career trajectory ā from small innovative company to important regional theater ā as a template for his own. For some time, the pair had discussed Rauch brining something from the Festival to D.C.
āWhile I would have been proud to bring any of our productions to Arena, Iām glad itās āEquivocation.ā The play is bottomless. Thereās always something more to uncover. And itās very political ā thatās what makes it an especially good fit for Washington.ā

Capital Pride Alliance and the Washington Wizards will host āPride Nightā on Thursday, March 27 at 7 p.m. Ticket purchases come with a limited-edition Wizards Pride belt bag. There are limited quantities.
Tickets start at $31 and can be purchased on the Wizardsā website.
Theater
Celebrated local talent Regina Aquino is back on the boards
Queer actor starring in Arena Stageās āThe Age of Innocenceā

āThe Age of Innocenceā
Through March 30
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets start at $59
Arenastage.org
Actor, director, and now filmmaker, celebrated local talent Regina Aquino is back on the boards in Arena Stageās āThe Age of Innocence,ā staged by the companyās artistic director Hana S. Sharif.
Adapted by Karen ZacarĆas from Edith Wharton’s 1920 masterpiece novel, the work surrounds a love triangle involving New York scion Newland Archer, his young fiancĆ©e, and the unconventional beauty Countess Olenska. The Gilded Age-set piece sets up a struggle between rigid societal norms and following oneās own heart.
Aquino ā a queer-identified first-generation Filipino immigrant who grew up in the DMVā is the first Filipino American actress to receive a Helen Hayes Award (2019). She won for her work in Theater Allianceās āThe Events.ā
In āThe Age of Innocence,ā Aquino plays Newlandās mother Adeline Archer, a widow who lives with her unmarried, socially awkward daughter Janey. No longer a face on the dinner party circuit, she does enjoy gossiping at home, especially with her close friend Mr. Sillerton Jackson, a āconfirmed bachelorā and social arbiter. Together, they sip drinks and talk about whatās happening among their elite Manhattan set.
WASHINGTON BLADE: Do you like Mrs. Archer?
REGINA AQUINO: Thereās a lot of joy in playing this character. Sheās very exuberant in those moments with her bestie Sillerton. Otherwise, thereās not much for her to do. In Whartonās book, it says that Mrs. Archerās preferred pastime is growing ferns.
BLADE: But she can be rather ruthless?
AQUINO: When it comes to her family, yes. Sheās protective, which I understand. When she feels that her familyās under attack in any way, or the structure of the society that upholds way of life is threatened, she leans hard into that.
The rare times that sheās out in society you see the boundaries come up, and the performative aspect of what society means. She can be very mean if she wants to be.
BLADE: Can you relate?
AQUINO: I come from a large Filipino matriarchal family. Mrs. Archer is someone I recognize. When Iām in the Philippines, Iām around people like that. People who will do business with you but wonāt let you into their inner circle.
BLADE: Did you ever imagine yourself playing a woman like Mrs. Archer?
AQUINO: No. However, in the past couple of years diversely cast TV shows like āBridgertonā and āQueen Charlotteā have filled a need for me that I didnāt I know I had.
With stories like āThe Age of Innocenceā that are so specific about American history, they arenāt always easily imagined by American audiences when performed by a diverse cast.
But when Karen [ZacarĆas] wrote the play, she imagined it as a diverse cast. What theyāre presenting is reflective of all the different people that make up America.
BLADE: You seem a part of many groups. How does that work?
AQUINO: For me, the code switching is real. Whether Iām with my queer family, Filipinos, or artists of color. Itās different. The way we talk about the world, it shifts. I speak Tiglao in the Philippines or here I may fall into an accent depending on who Iām with.
BLADE: And tell me about costume designer Fabio Tabliniās wonderful clothes.
AQUINO: Arenāt they gorgeous? At the Arena costume shop, they build things to fit to your body. Itās not often we get to wear these couture things. As actors weāre in the costumes for three hours a night but these women, who the characters are based on, wore these corseted gowns all day, every day. Itās amazing how much these clothes help in building your character. Iāve found new ways of expressing myself when my waist is cinched down to 26 inches.
BLADE: Arenaās Fichandler Stage is theatre-in-the-round. Great for costumes. How about you?
AQUINO: This is my favorite kind of acting. In the round thereās nowhere to hide. Your whole body is acting. Thereās somebody somewhere who can see every part of you. Very much how we move in real life. I find it easier.
BLADE: While the Gilded Age was opulent for some, it wasnāt a particularly easy time for working people.
AQUINO: The play includes commentary on class. Never mind money. If youāre not authentic to who you are and connecting with the people you love, youāre not going to be happy. The idea of Newland doing what he wants, and Countess Olenskaās journey toward freedom is very threatening to my character, Mrs. Archer. Today, these same oppressive structures are doing everything here to shutdown feelings of liberation. Thatās where the heart of this story lands for me.
Movies
Stellar cast makes for campy fun in āThe Parentingā
New horror comedy a clever, saucy piece of entertainment

If youāve ever headed off for a dream getaway that turned out to be an AirBnB nightmare instead, you might be in the target audience for āThe Parentingā ā and if you also happen to be in a queer relationship and have had the experience of āmeeting the parents,ā then it was essentially made just for you.
Now streaming on Max, where it premiered on March 13, and helmed by veteran TV (āLooking,ā āMinxā) and film (āThe Skeleton Twins,ā āAlex Strangeloveā) director Craig Johnson from a screenplay by former āSNLā writer Kurt Sublette, itās a very gay horror comedy in which a young couple goes through both of those excruciatingly relatable experiences at once. And for those who might be a bit squeamish about the horror elements, we can assure you without spoilers that the emphasis is definitely on the comedy side of this equation.
Set in upstate New York, it centers on a young gay couple ā Josh (Brandon Flynn) and Rohan (Nik Dodani) ā who are happily and obviously in love, and they are proud doggie daddies to prove it. In fact, they are so much in love that Rohan has booked a countryside house specifically to propose marriage, with the pretext of assembling both sets of their parents so that each of them can meet the otherās family for the very first time. They arrive at their rustic rental just in time for an encounter with their quirky-but-amusing host (Parker Posey), whose hints that the house may have a troubling history leave them snickering.
When their respective families arrive, things go predictably awry. Rohanās adopted parents (Edie Falco, Brian Cox) are successful, sophisticated, and aloof; Joshās folks (Lisa Kudrow, Dean Norris) are down-to-earth, unpretentious, and gregarious; to make things even more awkward, the coupleās BFF gal pal Sara (Vivian Bang) shows up uninvited, worried that Rohanās secret engagement plan will go spectacularly wrong under the unpredictable circumstances. Those hiccups, and worse, begin to fray Josh and Rohanās relationship at the edges, revealing previously unseen sides of each other that make them doubt their fitness as a couple ā but theyāre nothing compared to what happens when they discover that theyāre also sharing the house with a 400-year-old paranormal entity, who has big plans of its own for the weekend after being trapped there alone for decades. To survive ā and to save their marriage before it even happens ā they must unite with each other and the rest of their feuding guests to defeat it, before it uses them to escape and wreak its evil will upon the world.
Drawing from a long tradition of āhaunted houseā tropes, āThe Parentingā takes to heart its heritage in this campiest-of-all horror settings, from the gathering of antagonistic strangers that come together to confront its occult secrets to the macabre absurdity of its humor, much of which is achieved by juxtaposing the arcane with the banal as it filters its supernatural clichĆ©s through the familiar trappings of everyday modern life; secret spells can be found in WiFi passwords instead of ancient scrolls, the noisy disturbances of a poltergeist can be mistaken for unusually loud sex in the next room, and the shocking obscenities spewed from the mouth of a malevolent spectre can seem as mundane as the homophobic chatter of your Boomer uncle at the last family gathering.
At the same time, itās a movie that treats its āhookā ā the unpredictable clash of personalities that threatens to mar any first-time meeting with the family or friends of a new partner, so common an experience as to warrant a separate sub-genre of movies in itself ā as something more than just an excuse to bring this particular group of characters together. The interpersonal politics and still-developing dynamics between each of the three couples centered by the plot are arguably more significant to the filmās purpose than the goofy details of its backstory, and it is only by navigating those treacherous waters that either of their objectives (combining families and conquering evil) can be met; even Sara, who represents the chosen family already shared by the movieās two would-be grooms, has her place in the negotiations, underlining the perhaps-already-obvious parallels that can be drawn from a story about bridging our differences and rising above our egos to work together for the good of all.
Of course, most horror movies (including the comedic ones) operate with a similar reliance on subtext, serving to give them at least the suggestion of allegorical intent around some real-world issue or experience ā but one of the key takeaways from āThe Parentingā is how much more satisfyingly such narrative formulas can play when the movie in question assembles a cast of Grade-A actors to bring them to life, and this one ā which brings together veteran scene-stealers Falco, Kudrow, Cox, Norris, and resurgent āitā girl Posey, adding another kooky characterization to a resume full of them ā plays that as its winning card. Theyāre helped by Sublettās just-intelligent-enough script, of course, which benefits from a refusal to take itself too seriously and delivers plenty of juicy opportunities for each of its actors to strut their stuff, including the hilarious Bang; but itās their high-octane skills that bring it to life with just the right mix of farcical caricature and redeeming humanity. Heading the pack as the movieās main couple, the exceptional talent and chemistry of Dodani and Flynn help them hold their own among the seasoned ensemble, and make it easy for us to be invested enough in their couplehood to root for them all the way through.
As for the horror, though Johnsonās movie plays mostly for laughs, it does give its otherworldly baddie a certain degree of dignity, even though his menace is mostly cartoonish. Indeed, at times the film is almost reminiscent of an edgier version of āScooby-Dooā, which is part of its goofy charm, but its scarier moments have enough bite to leave reasonable doubt about the possibility of a happy ending. Even so, āThe Parentingā likes its shocks to be ridiculous ā itās closer to āBeetlejuiceā than to āThe Shiningā in tone ā and anyone looking for a truly terrifying horror film wonāt find it here.
What they will find is a brisk, clever, saucy, and yes, campy piece of entertainment that will keep you smiling almost all the way through its hour-and-a-half runtime, with the much-appreciated bonus of an endearing queer romance ā and a refreshingly atypical one, at that ā at its heart. And if watching it in our current political climate evokes yet another allegory in the mix, about the resurgence of an ancient hate during a gay coupleās bid for acceptance from their families, well maybe thatās where the horror comes in.
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