Arts & Entertainment
Fiennes’ fine film
Actor-turned-director gives bold, homoerotic spin on Shakespeare classic
The final image in Ralph Fiennes’ fine adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Coriolanus” is riveting — two men in a war-torn landscape locked in a deadly embrace. Their final coupling sums up the passionate love-hate relationship and the series of personal and political betrayals that have led them to this fatal climax.
One of the men is the Roman general Caius Martius (played by director Fiennes) and the other is his sworn enemy, the Volscian leader Tullus Aufidius (played with brooding intensity by Gerard Butler, probably best known to gay audiences as the title character in the movie version of “The Phantom of the Opera” and the buff, scantily clad Spartan general in “300.”) When the movie opens, Martius is at the top of his game. He brutally but effectively suppresses an uprising by the starving plebians and almost single-handedly halts an attack on Rome by the Volscian army. (He is given the honorific Coriolanus to mark his conquest of the Volscian city of Corioles.) The tables turn, however, when his mother and their well-meaning patrician friends try to push the warrior into a political career. The skills that serve him so well on the battlefield (rage, invective, decisive action, foolhardy risk-taking) fail him in the public sphere. The fallen war hero is banished from Rome and joins forces with his former Volscian enemies.
Screenwriter John Logan (Gladiator) does an excellent job of streamlining and updating Shakespeare’s timeless and timely tale. He and Fiennes present the story in a modern-day setting yet retain the richness of Shakespeare’s language, story and characters. The text is tidily trimmed throughout, but the only major excision is the famous fable of the belly, a charming parable used to keep the lower classes in check. Several expository scenes and messenger speeches are transferred with great facility to television anchors and pundits (on the wittily named Fideles TV). Battle scenes were shot in Belgrade and most of the secondary roles are filled by Serbian actors. Cinematographer Barry Atkinson (who worked with Fiennes on the award-winning The Hurt Locker) captures the noise, rage, terror and brutality of contemporary warfare in horribly effective detail. The savage intensity of the battle scenes contrasts nicely with the suave treachery of the political scenes.
Fiennes and Logan also follow Shakespeare in highlighting the homosocial bonds between the politicians and the soldiers and the explicitly homoerotic nature of the relationship between Coriolanus and Aufidius. Soldiers routinely greet each other by declaring they are happier to see their returning colleagues than they ever were to see their wives. Politicians taunt each other with charges of feminine or boyish behavior. Aufidius declares that Coriolanus is his enemy, yet welcomes him gladly to the Volscian camp. Under Fiennes’ assured direction, the two men literally cannot keep their hands off each other, yet they cannot stop battling for dominance. Their smoldering glances burn up the screen and their scary fight scenes only stop when one of the participants loses consciousness.
Fiennes’ focus on the homosocial and misogynistic world of the battlefield and the halls of power (in this case, smoke-filled bars, marble hearing rooms and brightly lit television studios) give a clear context for Vanessa Redgrave’s chilling performance of Coriolanus’ monstrous mother Volumnia, clearly one of the most intelligent people in this Rome, but there she has no effective outlet for her brains or passion. Instead of participating in the great events at the Capitol, she is forced to watch them unfold on TV. Her thwarted ambition is poured into her son, an inadequate vessel for her grand dreams, and the result is tragedy. Redgrave shines in every scene, whether chastising her daughter-in-law for her fears, tenderly dressing her son’s wounds, attacking the opposition or pleading with her son to return to Rome. The picture of Redgrave as Volumnia giddily applauding her warrior son while wearing the same junior military uniform as her young grandson is an unforgettable image of the societal price of sexism.
The rest of the cast is also uniformly strong. Brian Cox (Menenius) and John Kani (Cominius) give nuanced performances as leaders of the patrician party and they are well matched by the oily Tribunes of the People, James Nesbitt (Sicinius) and Paul Jesson (Brutus). Newcomer Jessica Chastain (“The Help”), one of the breakout performers of 2011, makes a surprisingly vivid impression as Coriolanus’ wife Virgilia, who he describes as “my gracious silence.”
For many years, “Coriolanus” was rarely produced, although there has been a resurgence of interest in the play in recent years. Shakespeare’s tricky political tale is very well-served by first-time director Ralph Fiennes (who has played the role onstage). He deserves extra credit for highlighting the homoerotic undertones that many directors shy away from, especially since the end result is a nuanced and fascinating portrayal of thwarted ambition, military bravado and political treachery. This is not a warm and fuzzy film, but it is a compelling and important one.
The new monthly 90’s Flashback Drag Brunch premiered at Red Bear Brewing Co. on Sunday, April 26. Performers included Logan Stone, Tiffany D. Carter and Charlemagne Chateau.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)










Celebrity News
Madonna makes rare club appearance in West Hollywood
Gay icon brought ‘Confessions II’ to The Abbey
A line of celebrities, “Drag Race” queens, influencers, media, and West Hollywood socialites lined the block around West Hollywood’s The Abbey, all clamoring to get into the invite-only celebration of owner Tristan Schukraft’s birthday. The rumor, which became verified gossip, was that Madonna, the Queen of Pop herself, would be taking the stage. Of course, the Blade had to be there.
With disco balls and Abbey statues covered in pink chiffon, it was clear. This party was a direct tie-in to Madonna’s much-anticipated “Confessions on A Dance Floor” album sequel, “Confessions II.” That night, the Abbey also unveiled its remodeled dance floor, a fitting collaboration.
The club was filled to capacity with a completely open bar, keeping the crowd liquored up. Go-go dancers in black leather collars and thongs lined the room, and celebrities that included Lilly Allen, Bebe Rexha, Tori Spelling, Julia Fox, Sam Asghari, Daniel Frenzese, Cynthia Bailey, Meredith Marks, Tom Daley, and more filled the VIP booths alongside World of Wonder personalities. It was a veritable who’s who of queer folk and allies.
The lights began to dim, the dance floor began to rumble, and Madonna graphics hit the screens. At around 1 am, it was time. Introduced by Addison Rae, Madonna grabbed the mic and started chanting, welcoming her “gays.” The venue resounded in thunderous chants of “freedom,” “mother,” and “bitch.”
Madonna was not there to perform. She was there to dance. She took the stage for about 15 minutes, keeping the crowd going with her naughty and fun commentary. There is no list that needs to be provided on how Madonna’s career has become part of queer culture. Going back to her dance music roots and going back to her gay fans is smart.
Released in 2005 (yes, it has been that long), “Confessions on a Dance Floor” was an instant hit, with four singles from the album being released. The album’s lead single, “Hung Up,” topped the charts in 41 countries with Billboard calling it the most successful dance song of the decade. The album had hints of 60s and 70s flair, mixed in with dance music prevalent at that time. The music still dominates at queer clubs across the globe.
Madonna knows we need a little queer joy; she also knows that fans miss the Madonna we all knew and loved. With the nation in such turbulence, we all need some comfort, and going back to a time when we felt safer and had more to celebrate just feels good. For the new album release, she has even partnered with Grindr for a limited edition vinyl release and exclusive behind-the-scenes content.
Her night at The Abbey presented snippets of her new music mixed in with some of her classics. The new material sounded good, sounded familiar in an exciting way, and shows that this diva has still got it.
“Confessions II” releases on July 3.
Theater
World premiere of ‘Everything, Devoured’ oozes queer energy
Nonbinary playwright Katherine Gwynn delivers ferocious ghost story
‘Everything, Devoured’
Through May 10
Nu Sass Productions
Sitar Arts Center
1724 Kalorama Road, N.W.
$25 (general admission)
Nusass.com
As if the world weren’t already hideous enough, Kore, the trans woman protagonist in nonbinary playwright Katherine Gwynn’s “Everything, Devoured,” wants to summon a demon to her humble Chicago apartment. While her friends think it’s just a bit of afterwork fun akin to reading horoscopes or Tarot cards, Kansas born Kore is dead serious.
Nu Sass Productions’ world premiere of Gwynn’s play oozes queer energy. Messages come across as if delivered by blow horn. It’s not afraid of expository dialogue or padding a singular moment of queer joy.
In a truly intimate black box at Sitar Arts Centers in Adams Morgan just down the block from Harris Teeter, scenic designer Simone Schneeberg deftly creates the generic flat whose ordinariness is only overshadowed by some weak attempts at individuality, but that’s all about to change.
Plans have been made, and Kore (June Dickson-Burke) has invited her nearest and dearest to her place.
Her nonbinary lesbian partner Julian (Tristan Evans) has cheap red wine and weed on the ready. Dinner is in the oven. Soon, lively trans masc bestie Dante (Selena Gill) arrives bearing a hostess gift – it’s the specially requested bag of pig blood, integral to the evening’s fun. In little time, the twentysomething friends will have painted a pentagram circled with salt in the middle of the living room floor. Candles are lit. Sacred words are spoken.
Shifts in light and sound by designers Vida Huang and Di Carey, respectively, signal contact with the beyond. Much to the friends’ surprise, they’ve successfully summoned a demon and it’s a real doozy: Ronald Reagan as demon drag queen.
Costumed in a corseted pinstripe suit adorned with a few Gaultier cones, the pronoun-less guest star from the underworld makes quite an entrance – a full-on lip sync to Madonna’s “Vogue” replete with huge flashing eyes, an evil smile and darting tongue.
Spectacularly played by O’Malley Steuerman (“actor, DRAGster, playwright, and producer from Baltimore”) Ronald Reagan as demon drag queen is lewd, taunting, and reads with the kind of sharp wit that puts other queens in the shade.
The entertainment doesn’t stop there. Soon, the demon is juggling provocative props (fleshy dildo, a baby doll, and a copy of Marx) or performing sock puppetry to a 1982 recording of journalist Lester Kinsolving asking about the “gay plague” to which Reagan’s Press Secretary Larry Speakes charmingly replies, “I don’t have it … do you?” That proved a real knee slapper in the pressroom.
Throughout the play’s early scenes, a young man sits unnoticed at Kore’s kitchen counter. Now and then, he comments with a disapproving harrumph or a distinctly gay one-liner. He’s privy to all, but the lady of the house is unaware of him until he joins the party. His name is Michael (Christian Harris). He died in 1989 and has been hanging around ever since.
Wry and undeniably spectral, Michael is the play’s link to queer past. He remembers the hurts and horrors of the AIDS epidemic, but not so much about the emergence of ‘genderqueer’ as an identity label, reflecting a shift toward a broader gender spectrum. That came later.
Without doubt, the uniformly queer cast is committed. They play their queer characters with authenticity, lending a realness to queer people’s valid concerns and fears in the current atmosphere. (For instance, anarchist/barista Dante accuses Julian of hiding out in their safe role of social worker at a nice nonprofit; and Kore speaks about the fear surrounding the Kansas bill making it illegal for transgender people to display their gender on a driver’s license.)
Based in Chicago, Gwynn has written a queer play with a punch; and prior to ever being staged, this new work was prestigiously named both a 2025 O’Neill Semi-Finalist as well as 2025 Bay Area Playwrights Festival Finalist.
Billed as a ferocious queer ghost story, “Everything, Devoured” doesn’t disappoint. In the hands of queer co-directors Tracey Erbacher and Ileana Blustein, Gwynn’s fevered yet thoughtful and quick paced but penetrating piece unfolds compellingly.
Intuitive staging and chemistry among players, especially two hander scenes involving Kore, display a quiet intensity that feels true to life. Other scenes bring out the anger, protectiveness and some divisiveness among the friends. Gwynn’s informed and powerful writing is brought to the fore.
Nu Sass Productions has been uplifting women and marginalized genders in all aspects of theater since 2009. The company’s two-part name stems from “Nu” (Chinese for woman) and “Sass” (sassy).
Its latest offering fits the bill and then some.
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