Arts & Entertainment
Tale of two Washingtons
Gay theater director opens ‘Race’


The cast of ‘Race,’ director John Vreeke’s latest project. From left, James Whalen, Michael Anthony Williams and Crashonda Edwards.
āRaceā
Through March 17
Theater J
1529 16th Street NW
$15-$60
202-518-9400
washingtondcjcc.org
Maybe six will be a charm. John Vreeke recently received his sixth Helen Hayes Award nomination for outstanding direction. This time itās for Woolly Mammothās critically well-received production of āThe Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity.ā If Vreekeās name is ultimately called at the awards ceremony celebrating D.C.-area theater in early April, it will be his first win.
Chatting via phone from his home in Seattle (a little house with a big view of Puget Sound that he shares with his partner of 36 years), Vreeke says he definitely keeps awards in perspective. But despite his philosophical tone, he gives the sense that ending this ongoing non-winning streak wouldnāt be such a bad thing.
As a gay director in his 60s known for tackling intellectually complex plays, Vreeke might have seemed an odd match for āChad Deity,ā an action packed, hip-hop-influenced morality tale set in the world of professional wrestling. But Vreeke was so impressed with playwright Kristoffer Diazās distinctive language that he knew it was the right project for him and Woollyās artistic director Howard Shalwitz agreed.
Vreeke’s prior effort, ‘Chad Deity:’
āI was lucky from the start,ā he says. āI worked with a great cast, particularly JJ Perez whoād been waiting to do this play for four years, and an equally good design team.ā
Vreeke describes his directorial style as invasive. He understands but doesnāt ascribe to the idea of directors getting out of the way and letting actors do their work.
āSome directors are cheerleaders: They put together the right people and stand back and let them do their thing. Thatās not me,ā he says. āEarly on, Iāll step in with some very strong ideas about concept, scene, character and what play is saying about the world. But Iām not inflexible. Throughout the three-to-five week rehearsal process there is constant evolution and redefinition with lots of discussion. I try to stay very open to who the actors are themselves. After all, thatās primarily how they got the role ā I see something in them that connects to the role. Some call it type casting. I call it smart casting.ā
Born in the Netherlands, Vreeke (pronounced VrÄ-key) was 8 when his family immigrated to the U.S. They settled near an uncle in Salt Lake City and quickly became immersed in a tightly knit, religiously austere Dutch Reformed community. Vreeke knew he was gay from a young age, but understandably kept it to himself. As a teenager, he was a standout actor in his high schoolās drama club. āTheater,ā he says, āquickly became a form of expression that put issues of sexuality, religion and growing up poor on the back burner.ā
After earning his masterās in directing from the University of Utah, Vreeke began his career at Houstonās Alley Theater. Next, he and his partner (a radio executive) moved to Seattle where Vreeke spent five years in television production. From 2000-2009, they lived in D.C. During this time Vreeke returned to theater, mostly directing at Theatre J, MetroStage and Woolly Mammoth (where heās a company member). And though they are once again based in Seattle, the bulk of Vreekeās directing projects continue to be here in Washington.
āI canāt seem to give it away in Seattle,ā Vreeke says, ābut fortunately D.C. keeps asking me back and Iām grateful for that.ā
His most recent work ā a production of David Mametās āRaceā currently running at D.C.ās Theater J ā examines āguilt, betrayal and racial posturingā in a racially diverse law firm. Written after the formerly liberal playwrightās conversion to neo-conservatism, itās not quite as nuanced as his earlier works, Vreeke says. āBut Mametās wonderful economy of writing is there, allowing a director to play the four-person cast as if it were a string quartet. Itās extraordinary.ā
This spring Vreeke is staging Michael Hollingerās otherworldly love story āGhost-Writerā for MetroStage in Alexandria. In the fall, heās slated to stage the area premiere of āThe Lyons,ā Nicky Silverās comic exploration of family dysfunction at Bethesdaās Roundhouse Theatre, and in 2014 heās remounting his production of Stephen Adly Guirgisā āThe Last Days of Judas Iscariotā at Forum Theatre in Silver Spring.
āI think the Washington theater scene is extraordinary, particularly in terms of growth for medium-sized theater and the germination of small theatres like Forum,ā Vreeke says. āAnd I think the best is yet to come. Theater communities go in cycles, and I think D.C. has yet to hit its peak, especially with its new crop of young and talented artistic directors. I hope I can continue to be a part of it.ā
Photos
PHOTOS: DCGFFL 25th Anniversary Party
Gay flag football league marks milestone at Penn Social

The D.C. Gay Flag Football League (DCGFFL) held a 25th season anniversary party at Penn Social on Saturday, Sept. 23. Proceeds from the event benefited the LGBTQ youth services organization SMYAL as well as the D.C. Center for the LGBTQ Community.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)



















Books
New book goes behind the scenes of āA League of Their Ownā
āNo Crying in Baseballā offers tears, laughs, and more

āNo Crying in Baseball: The Inside Story of āA League of Their Ownā
By Erin Carlson
c.2023, Hachette Books
$29/320 pages
You donāt usually think of Madonna as complaining of being ādirty all dayā from playing baseball. But thatās what the legendary diva did during the shooting of āA League of Their Own,ā the 1992 movie, beloved by queers.
āNo Crying in Baseball,ā the fascinating story behind āA League of Their Own,ā has arrived in time for the World Series. Nothing could be more welcome after Amazon has cancelled season 2 of its reboot (with the same name) of this classic film.

In this era, people donāt agree on much. Yet, āA League of Their Ownā is loved by everyone from eight-year-old kids to 80-year-old grandparents.
The movie has strikes, home runs and outs for sports fans; period ambience for history buffs; and tears, laughs and a washed-up, drunk, but lovable coach for dramady fans.
The same is true for āNo Crying in Baseball.ā This āmaking ofā story will appeal to history, sports and Hollywood aficionados. Like āAll About Eveā and āThe Rocky Horror Picture Show,ā āA League of Their Ownā is Holy queer Writ.
Carlson, a culture and entertainment journalist who lives in San Francisco, is skilled at distilling Hollywood history into an informative, compelling narrative. As with her previous books, āIāll Have What Sheās Having: How Nora Ephronās three Iconic Films Saved the Romantic Comedyā and āQueen Meryl: The Iconic Roles, Heroic Deeds, and Legendary Life of Meryl Streep,ā āNo Crying in Baseball,ā isnāt too āeducational.ā Itās filled with gossip to enliven coffee dates and cocktail parties.
āA League of Their Ownā is based on the true story of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL). From 1943 to 1954, more than 600 women played in the league in the Midwest. The leagueās players were all white because the racism of the time prohibited Black women from playing. In the film, the characters are fictional. But the team the main characters play for ā the Rockford Peaches ā was real.
While many male Major and Minor League Baseball players were fighting in World War II, chewing gum magnate Philip K. Wrigley, who owned the Chicago Cubs, founded the league. He started the AAGPBL, āTo keep spectators in the bleachers,ā Carlson reports, āand a storied American sportāmore important: his business afloat.ā
In 1943, the Office of War Information warned that the baseball season could be āscrappedā ādue to a lack of men,ā Carlson adds.
āA League of Their Ownā was an ensemble of womenās performances (including Rosie OāDonnell as Doris, Megan Cavanagh as Marla, Madonna as Mae, Lori Petty as Kit and Geena Davis as Dottie) that would become legendary.
Girls and women still dress up as Rockford Peaches on Halloween.
Tom Hanksās indelible portrayal of coach Jimmy Dugan, Gary Marshallās depiction of (fictional) league owner Walter Harvey and Jon Lovitzās portrayal of Ernie have also become part of film history.
Filming āA League of Their Own,ā Carlson vividly makes clear, was a gargantuan effort. There were āactresses who canāt play baseballā and ābaseball players who canāt act,ā Penny Marshall said.
The stadium in Evansville, Ind., was rebuilt to look like it was in the 1940s āwhen the players and extras were in costume,ā Carlson writes, āit was easy to lose track of what year it was.ā
āNo Crying in Baseballā isnāt written for a queer audience. But, Carlson doesnāt pull any punches.
Many of the real-life AAGPBL players who OāDonnell met had same-sex partners, OāDonnell told Carlson.
āWhen Penny, angling for a broad box-office hit chose to ignore the AAGPGLās queer history,ā Carlson writes, āshe perpetuated a cycle of silence that muzzled athletes and actresses alike from coming out on the wider stage.ā
āIt was, as they say, a different time,ā she adds.
Fortunately, Carlsonās book isnāt preachy. Marshall nicknames OāDonnell and Madonna (who become buddies) āRoā and āMo.ā Kodak is so grateful for the one million feet of film that Marshall shot that it brings in a high school marching band. Along with a lobster lunch. One day, an assistant director āstreaked the set to lighten the mood,ā Carlson writes.
āNo Crying in Baseball,ā is slow-going at first. Marshall, who died in 2018, became famous as Laverne in āLaverne & Shirley.ā Itās interesting to read about her. But Carlson devotes so much time to Marshallās bio that you wonder when sheāll get to āA League of Their Own.ā
Thankfully, after a couple of innings, the intriguing story of one of the best movies ever is told.
Youāll turn the pages of āNo Crying in Baseballā even if you donāt know a center fielder from a short stop.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Theater
Rupert Murdochās powers on full display in āInkā
Media baron helped pave the way for Brexit, Prime Minister Thatcher

āInkā
Through Sept. 24
Round House Theatre
4545 East-West Highway, Bethesda, MD 20814
$46-$94
Roundhousetheatre.org
Yes, Rupert Murdochās loathsome traits are many, but his skills to succeed are undeniably numerous.Ā
In the first scenes of John Graham’s West End and Broadway hit drama āInk,ā an exciting year-long detail from the life of a burgeoning media baron, Murdoch’s powers of persuasion are on full display.
Itās 1969 London. Over dinner with editor Larry Lamb, a young Murdoch shares his plan to buy the Sun and rebrand the dying broadsheet, replacing the Daily Mirror as Britainās best-selling tabloid. Whatās more, he wants to do it in just one year with Lamb at the helm.
Initially reluctant, Lamb becomes seduced by the idea of running a paper, something thatās always eluded him throughout his career, and something Murdoch, the outsider Australian, understands. Murdoch taunts him, āNot you. Not Larry Lamb, the Yorkshire-born son of a blacksmith, not the guy who didnāt get a degree from Oxford or Cambridge, who didnāt get a degree from anywhere. Not you.ā
Still, Lamb, played convincingly by Cody Nickell in Round House Theatreās stellar season-opener, a co-production with Olney Theatre Center, remains unsure. But Murdoch (a delightfully brash Andrew Rein) is undeterred, and seals the deal with a generous salary.
Superbly staged by director Jason Loweth, āInkā is riveting. Its exchanges between Lamb and Murdoch are a strikingly intimate glimpse into ambition involving an ostensibly average editor and a striving money man who doesnāt like people.
Once on board, Lamb is trolling Fleet Street in search of his launch team, played marvelously by some mostly familiar actors. He makes his most important hire ā news editor Brian McConnell (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) ā in a steam bath. The remainder of the Sunās new masthead falls handily into place: Joyce Hopkirk (Kate Eastwood Norris) the womenās page editor whose forward thinking is marred by her casual racism; Zion Jang plays Beverley Goodway, an awkwardly amusing young photographer; persnickety deputy editor Bernard Shrimsley (Michael Glenn) who learns to love ugly things; and an old school sports editor who proves surprisingly versatile, played by Ryan Rillette, Round Houseās artistic director.
At Lambās suggestion, the team brainstorms about what interests Sun readers. They decide on celebrities, pets, sports, free stuff, and ārather revolutionarily for the time āTV. Murdoch is happy to let readersā taste dictate content and the āWhyā of the sacred āfive Wsā of journalism is out the window.
Murdoch is portrayed as a not wholly unlikable misanthrope. He dislikes his editors and pressman alike. He particularly hates unions. His advice to Lamb is not to get too chummy with his subordinates. Regarding the competition, Murdoch doesnāt just want to outperform them, he wants to grind them to dust.
Loewith leads an inspired design team. Scenic designer Tony Cisekās imposing, inky grey edifice made from modular walls is ideally suited for Mike Tutajās projections of headlines, printed pages, and Reinās outsized face as Murdoch. Sound designer and composer Matthew M. Nielson ably supplies bar noises and the nonstop, pre-digital newspaper clatter of presses, linotypes, and typewriters.
From a convenient second tiered balcony, the Daily Mirrorās establishment power trio Hugh Cudlipp (Craig Wallace), Chris Lee Howard (Chris Geneback) and Sir Percy (Walter Riddle) overlook all that lies below, discussing new tactics and (mostly failed) strategies to remain on top.
Increasingly comfortable in the role of ruthless, sleazy editor, Lamb is unstoppable.
Obsessed with overtaking the Daily Mirrorās circulation, he opts for some sketchy reportage surrounding the kidnapping and presumed murder of Muriel McKay, the wife of Murdochās deputy Sir Alick (Todd Scofield). The kidnappers mistook Muriel for Murdochās then-wife Anna (Sophia Early). Next, in a move beyond the pale, Lamb introduces āPage 3,ā a feature spotlighting a topless female model. Awesta Zarif plays Stephanie, a smart young model. She asks Lamb if he would run a semi-nude pic of his similarly aged daughter? His reaction is uncomfortable but undaunted.
For Murdochās purposes, history proves he chose well in Lamb. By yearās end, the Sun is Britainās most widely read tabloid. Together they give the people what they didnāt know they wanted, proving the pro-Labour Daily Mirrorās hold on the working class is baseless and paving the way for things like Brexit and a Prime Minister Thatcher.
āInkā at Round House closes soon. See it if you can.
-
U.S. Federal Courts3 days ago
Federal judge: drag is ‘vulgar and lewd,’ ‘sexualized conduct’
-
Opinions4 days ago
Speaker Kevin McUseless calls for Biden impeachment inquiry
-
Music & Concerts4 days ago
New dance single pays tribute to Town Danceboutique
-
Real Estate2 days ago
D.C. rentals: DIY or seek professional help?