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‘This’ time

Group of friends tackle existential angst in Round House character study

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This, Lise Bruneau, Jane, Felicia Curry, Marrell, Will Gartshore, Jean-Pierre, Michael Glenn, Alan, Round House Theatre, Melissa James Gibson
This, Lise Bruneau, Jane, Felicia Curry, Marrell, Will Gartshore, Jean-Pierre, Michael Glenn, Alan, Round House Theatre, Melissa James Gibson

From left, Lise Bruneau as Jane, Felicia Curry as Marrell, Will Gartshore as Jean-Pierre and Michael Glenn as Alan in Round House Theatre’s ‘This.’ (Photo by Danisha Crosby; courtesy Round House)

‘This’
Through Nov. 3
Round House Theatre
4545 East-West Highway
$10-$45
240-6kt-1111

With “This,” playwright Melissa James Gibson briefly tracks the not altogether graceful slide into middle age of a small group of longtime friends. And while the issues confronting them — mortality, family and the seven year itch — are heavily tread topics, the author’s word play, obsessive parsing and quirky point of view make these subjects feel altogether fresh. Her characters can be ultra-glib, sometimes annoyingly so, but they’re also layered and relatable.

The Obie Award-winning dramedy is currently playing at Bethesda’s Round House Theatre in a terrifically acted production deftly staged by the company’s producing artistic director Ryan Rilette.

It begins in the New York apartment of unhappily married Tom (Todd Scofield) and Marrell (Felicia Curry). Their newborn doesn’t sleep much and their nerves are jangly. On hand for a small gathering are Marrell’s close college friends Jane (Lisa Bruneau), a poet whose husband died exactly a year ago, and Alan (Michael Glenn), a self-deprecating gay mnemonicist (remembers every conversation he’s ever heard verbatim) who’s rarely without a drink or comment. And joining the foursome for the first time is Frenchman Jean-Pierre (out actor Will Gartshore), a handsome physician with Doctors Without Borders. He’s there as a possible love match for Jane, but it’s Marrell who seems to be falling for his Gallic charms.

The hosts bicker about baby, words and the Brita water filter, but they’re hell bent on having a good time, especially Marrell. Determined to pull Jane out of mourning, she forces her reluctant pal to play a party game. It falls flat. The evening is a dud.

Soon after, Marrell’s woodworker husband Tom pays a visit to Jane. He has feelings. Things happen that really shouldn’t, and most of the remainder of the play is about Jane resolving her guilt. The rather vague demonstrative pronoun title refers to both Jane and Tom’s regrettable deed and other more existential and typically unmentioned problems.

James Kronzer’s ingenious revolving set is a dizzying puzzle of gray blocks that moves to create living rooms, a TV studio (where Tom broadcasts his memory trick to the masses), and a nightclub. As jazz singer/songwriter Marrell, Curry gets to show off a gorgeous, sultry voice with two torchy songs composed by Peter Eldridge.

The cast is top notch. Bruneau’s Jane is a wonderfully multifaceted portrayal of a real woman who’s been dealt a relatively rough hand. Held up as the sainted widow by her friends, she proves her humanness at every turn — both unintentionally and on purpose. And Gartshore is a delight as the worldly Frenchman who serves as a voice of reason among the comparably self-involved Americans. Jean-Pierre’s good looks and selfless vocation are an inspiration, prompting Alan to rethink his life — maybe he should aspire to do more than regurgitate chitchat?

And fortunately for the production, Glenn is playing Alan the familiarly drawn gay boozy sidekick whose cutting rejoinders couldn’t be more predictable. Glenn brings funny to a lot of spots where there isn’t much.

At about 90 minutes without intermission, “This” moves at a quick pace. The end is touching though unexpected. Speaking with heartfelt sincerity to her young unseen daughter, Jane emerges as a protagonist in what has seemed more an ensemble work. It leaves you wondering what happened to the other folks. But perhaps that’s best. Like life, Gibson’s play leaves room for some more of this and a lot more of that.

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Photos

PHOTOS: Denali at Pitchers

‘Drag Race’ alum performs at Thirst Trap

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Denali performs at the Thirst Trap Thursday drag show at Pitchers DC on April 9. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Denali (@denalifoxx) of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” performed at Pitchers DC on April 9 for the Thirst Trap Thursday drag show. Other performers included Cake Pop!, Brooke N Hymen, Stacy Monique-Max and Silver Ware Sidora.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

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Arts & Entertainment

In an act of artistic defiance, Baltimore Center Stage stays focused on DEI

‘Maybe it’s a triple-down’

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Last year, Baltimore Center Stage refused to give up its DEI focus in the face of losing federal funding. They've tripled down. (Photo by Ulysses Muñoz of the Baltimore Banner)

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.

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Books

Susan Lucci on love, loss, and ‘All My Children’

New book chronicles life of iconic soap star

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(Book cover image courtesy of Blackstone Publishing)

‘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.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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