‘A Case for the Existence of God’
Through Dec. 7
Mosaic Theater Company at Atlas Performing Arts Center
1333 H St,, N.E.
Tickets: $42- $56 (discounts available)
Mosaictheater.org

With each new work, Samuel D. Hunter has become more interested in “big ideas thriving in small containers.” Increasingly, he likes to write plays with very few characters and simple sets. 

His 2022 two-person play, “A Case for the Existence of God,” (now running at Mosaic Theater Company) is one of these minimal pieces. “Audiences might come in expecting a theological debate set in the Vatican, but instead it’s two guys sitting in a cubicle discussing terms on a bank loan,” says Hunter (who goes by Sam). 

Like many of his plays, this award-winning work unfolds in rural Idaho, where Hunter was raised. Two men, one gay, the other straight (here played by local out actors Jaysen Wright and Lee Osorio, respectively), bond over financial insecurity and the joys and challenges of single fatherhood. 

His newest success is similarly reduced. Touted as Hunter’s long-awaited Broadway debut, “Little Bear Ridge Road” features Laurie Metcalf as Sarah and Micah Stock as Ethan, Sarah’s estranged gay nephew who returns to Idaho from Seattle to settle his late father’s estate. At 90 minutes, the play’s cast is small and the setting consists only of a reclining couch in a dark void. 

“I was very content to be making theater off-Broadway. It’s where most of my favorite plays live.” However, Hunter, 44, does admit to feeling validated: “Over the years there’s been this notion that my plays are too small or too Idaho for Broadway. I feel that’s misguided, so now with my play at the Booth Theatre, my favorite Broadway house, it kind of proves that.” 

With “smaller” plays not necessarily the rage on Broadway, he’s pleased that he made it there without compromising the kind of plays he likes to write.

Hunter first spoke with The Blade in 2011 when his “A Bright Day in Boise” made its area premiere at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. At the time, he was still described as an up-and-coming playwright though he’d already nabbed an Obie for this dark comedy about seeking Rapture in an Idaho Hobby Lobby. 

In 2015, his “The Whale,” played at Rep Stage starring out actor Michael Russotto as Charlie, a morbidly obese gay English teacher struggling with depression. Hunter wrote the screenplay for the subsequent 2022 film which garnered an Oscar for actor Brendan Frazier.

The year leading up to the Academy Awards ceremony was filled with travel, press, and festivals. It was a heady time. Because of the success of the film there are a lot of non-English language productions of “The Whale” taking place all over the world. 

“I don’t see them all,” says Hunter. “When I was invited to Rio de Janeiro to see the Portuguese language premiere, I went. That wasn’t a hard thing to say yes to.”

And then, in the middle of the film hoopla, says Hunter, director Joe Mantello and Laurie (Metcalf) approached him about writing a play for them to do at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago before it moved to Broadway. He’d never met either of them, and they gave me carte blanche.

Early in his career, Hunter didn’t write gay characters, but after meeting his husband in grad school at the University of Iowa that changed, he began to explore that part of his life in his plays, including splashes of himself in his queer characters without making it autobiographical. 

He says, “Whether it’s myself or other people, I’ve never wholesale lifted a character or story from real life and plopped it in a play. I need to breathing room to figure out characters on their own terms. It wouldn’t be fair to ask an actor to play me.”

His queer characters made his plays more artistically successful, adds Hunter. “I started putting something of myself on the line. For whatever reason, and it was probably internalized homophobia, I had been holding back.” 

Though his work is personal, once he hands it over for production, it quickly becomes collaborative, which is the reason he prefers plays compared to other forms of writing.

“There’s a certain amount of detachment. I become just another member of the team that’s servicing the story. There’s a joy in that.”

Hunter is married to influential dramaturg John Baker. They live in New York City with their little girl, and two dogs. As a dad, Hunter believes despite what’s happening in the world, it’s your job to be hopeful. 

“Hope is the harder choice to make. I do it not only for my daughter but because cynicism masquerades as intelligence which I find lazy. Having hope is the better way to live.”

‘LIZZIE’
Through Nov. 30
Keegan Theatre
1742 Church St., N.W.
$54-$65
Keegantheatre.com

Lizzie Borden put Fall River, Mass., on the map. When the 32-year-old, seemingly respectable woman was charged with the axe murder of her father Andrew and stepmother Abby in the summer of 1892, it sent shock waves across the community and far beyond. 

In time, the gruesome tale would weave its way into the annals of American crime lore, always remembered through that popular nursery rhyme “Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her father 40 whacks…” Well, you know the rest. 

The astoundingly terrific “LIZZIE” (now playing at Keegan Theatre, a short walk from Dupont Circle Metro) builds on the legend. The rock musical with book by Tim Maner, music by Steven Cheslik-deMeyer and Alan Stevens Hewitt, and lyrics by Cheslik-deMeyer and Maner, follows the days leading up to the grisly murders (unseen offstage) through Lizzie’s acquittal, bringing to the fore matters of abuse, oppression, and queer identity. 

Shrewdly staged and choreographed by Jennifer J. Hopkins, the show begins with a haunting version of “Forty Whacks (Prologue),” featuring the talented cast of four women who can sing, act, move, and deliver the occasional laugh-out-loud line. 

Clearly, frustrated Lizzie (powerfully played by Caroline Graham) and dominant older sister Emma (Sydne Lyon), both unmarried and still at home, are angsty and deeply unhappy. They resent their father for a litany of reasons including his extreme Yankee frugality. While one of the richest men in Fall River, he chooses to live on a sad street and go without indoor plumbing rather than set up housekeeping in posh digs across town. But it’s when they see Andrew’s great fortune slipping away to their stepmother that their fury reaches new heights. 

Much of “LIZZIE” takes place at the scene of the crime, the Borden residence – cleverly suggested by scenic designer Josh Sticklin with some clapboard siding, stairways, a bit of period wallpaper and a purposely incongruous, large Borden family coat of arms. 

Lighting designer Sage Green, convincingly and evocatively, summons at turns a bona fide rock concert experience, dimly lit parlor, or an intimate setting in a small yard. 

And costume designer Logan Benson savvily adds to the atmosphere. Lizzie’s somber dresses with their accurate to the era leg-of-mutton sleeves give way to something altogether glitzier and more revealing after the murders.

There is dialogue, but the Riot Grrrl-inspired work is mostly sung through with punk rock anthems, ballads, and character driven songs. Whether spoken or sung, “LIZZIE” makes no bones about the title character’s guilt while introducing varying levels of collusion among the other women.

A knowing wry smirk from the house maid Bridget (Brigid Wallace Harper) says a lot about the family dynamic (“there’s a lock on every door / In every room a prisoner of a long, silent war”) as well as what went down that summer morning at the Borden house.  

Lizzie’s secret girlfriend Alice (golden throated Savannah Blackwell) who conveniently lives next door, is besotted and watches her every move. Just after the murders, she saw Lizzie burn a dress in the yard.  

The hard driving score is played by a passionate half-dozen strong band led by Marika Countouris. Sometimes, the instruments overpower the amplified singers and a lyric or two is lost, but that’s not so unusual with rock musicals. 

At 90 minutes with a leisurely intermission (well-earned by the band and cast, especially Graham as Lizzie who’s onstage throughout, often incorporating frenetic movement and strenuous air guitar into her many songs), the first half explores feelings of entrapment and the second liberation. 

Lizzie goes to trial. Despite a shaky alibi, the defendant seems to be winning over the jury. Looks like she might get that grand house on the hill after all. 

The Borden story has been shared in varied ways including innumerable books and documentaries, Jack Beeson’s opera “Lizzie Borden” (1965), Agnes de Mille’s ballet “Fall River Legend” (1954), and the memorable 1975 TV movie starring Elizabeth Montgomery (best known as the perky reluctant witch Samantha Stevens on TV’s sitcom “Bewitched”) playing against type. 

Today, the legend endures with “LIZZIE” at Keegan. 

‘Fremont Ave.’
Through Nov. 23
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets start at $49
Arenastage.org

For Reggie D. White, growing up Black and queer in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, there wasn’t a lot of vocabulary for his experience outside of the AIDS crisis. Despite being surrounded by family who loved him, White felt isolated in his own home; there was a sort of membrane that prevented him from being present. 

With his new play “Fremont Ave.,” now running at Arena Stage, White has written a work about home and the many definitions of that idea specifically relating to three generations of Black men.  

Set in a house on a street in a Southern California suburb (similar to where White grew up), “Fremont Ave.” explores the ways a lack of belonging can be passed down generationally. The first act is boy meets girl and creating a home; and the second watches the next generation struggling to achieve something different.

“The third act’s storyline is deeply queer,” White explains. “Boyfriends Joseph and Damon have been together for years yet can’t figure out what it means to make a home. We don’t totally see the relationship solved, but there’s a glimmer of hope that it just might make it.”

The playwright notes, it’s not all about familial angst and alienation: “Much of the play is music and humor set against the rhythm of a cutthroat game of spades.” 

Playwright, actor, and educator, White “does all the things.” Currently, he holds the title of Arena’s senior director of artistic strategy & impact, a role focused on artistic vision and growth. Superbly energetic, White splits his time between Arena and his prized rent-stabilized residence in Brooklyn’s desirable Park Slope neighborhood. He’s already told his landlord that he’s never leaving.

At seven, he came close to landing the part of young Simba in the pre-Broadway “Lion King.” Soured by the near miss, White turned his attention to sports and studies. In his freshman year at college in the Bay Area, he took a musical theater class for the heck of it, and soon gave up law school ambitions to focus on show biz. He went on to appear in Matthew López’s Broadway success “The Inheritance” until the pandemic hit. 

Winning the Colman Domingo Award in 2021 gave White the flexibility to write “Fremont Ave.” (The award is given to a Black male or male-identifying theater artist and includes a cash stipend and development opportunities.)

“It can be scary to make a career in the arts. I ran from it for a long time. Then one morning I just woke up very grateful for the accumulation of accidental circumstances that landed me in this moment.”

WASHINGTON BLADE: Is queerness your secret to success?

REGGIE D. WHITE: I’m not saying that being queer is my mutant super power, but I do think there is an element of living my life on the margins trying to find a place for myself that I’ve been able to observe relationships and how people engage and interact with each other that gives me a real objective eye on how to render a world that I didn’t live in.

BLADE: What’s queer about your work?

WHITE: There’s this thing that James Baldwin said a lot, it’s about being on the outside of an experience, being able to observe more astutely. With “Fremont Ave.” it felt important to me that the actor leading us through is played by a queer actor. I wanted that authenticity and that experience of having felt isolation. 

It’s unique that the central man in each story, the grandfather, stepson, and grandson are played by the same queer actor Bradley Gibson, that amazing TV star with the big muscles.  

It’s also interesting to watch a single body traverse over generations in the same house (altered over time by appliance and art updates).  

BLADE: Premiering your play as part of Arena’s 75th anniversary season must be a thrill. 

WHITE: Sometimes I ask myself, how is this happening? And I didn’t even have to sleep with anybody. But seriously, I’m lucky. Arena excels at taking great care of world premieres, and the production’s director Lili-Anne Brown has a visceral sense of how to create community and life on stage. 

BLADE: What else is unique about “Fremont Ave.”?

WHITE: Men aren’t a particularly emotionally literate species, so there haven’t been a lot of plays exploring the emotional condition of men and what it means to learn to love. 

For men, love looks like silence. I wanted to explore what it looks like when there’s a deep curiosity about the people we’ve known and loved. 

BLADE: Was risk involved?

WHITE: I wrote a deeply personal play. That’s scary. So, to see everyone involved invest their own love into what’s my play, that’s incredible, and a great confirmation of “specificity is the key to universality.” People seeing themselves in the characters has been both beautiful and surprising.