Connect with us

Theater

Mosaic’s ‘Paper Dolls’ is splashy drag fun if a bit uneven

Five-member troupe find life, release in after-hours performances

Published

7 years ago

on

Paper Dolls, gay news, Washington Blade

From left are Evan D’Angeles, Kevin Shen and Rafael Sebastian in ‘Paper Dolls.’ (Photo by Stan Barouh; courtesy Mosaic)

‘Paper Dolls’
 
Through April 29
 
Mosaic Theater Company
 
Atlas Performing Arts Center
 
1333 H St., N.E.
 
$20-65
 
202-399-7993

Paper Dolls review

Philip Himberg’s “Paper Dolls” is a play with songs based on a short documentary about five Filipino caregivers in Tel Aviv who perform as a drag troupe on their off hours.

Mosaic Theater Company’s U.S. premiere production at Atlas Performing Arts Center gets off to a slow start, peaks midway and doesn’t know when to end. But winning performances by the five dolls and a touching family-centered subplot lifts a clunky script from sinking director Mark Brokaw’s effervescent effort.

Set in 2004 Israel against the 2nd Intifada (Palestinian uprising) when guest workers were sought to replace barred Palestinians, the action focuses on the eponymous quintet of gay and transgender Filipinos charged with caring for elderly, religious Jewish men. Their dreary days are spent earning money to send home, but by night they slip away into a world of fun and low-rent glamour.

The five include wise Salvatore, better known as Sally (the terrific Ariel Felix); responsible Chiqui (Kevin Shen) and sassy younger sibling Jiorgio (Jon Norman Schneider); subdued Cheska (Rafael Sebastian) and best friend, the alternately giggly and weepy Zhan (Evan D’Angeles).

In bustling Tel Aviv, the Dolls find freedom far from home. Their true selves emerge singing karaoke style and performing rehearsed routines while wearing bright boas and dresses made from newspapers like the liberal national paper Haaretz and the more colorful local gay rag, all cleverly rendered by costume designer Frank Labovitz. 

Behind the show’s splashy, upbeat numbers lies a less bouncy backstage story. The banter is overly G-rated — you’ll overhear racier chitchat from the queens on “RuPaul’s Drag Race” — but while changing costumes and eating home cooking, they discuss gender identity, aspects of Israeli culture, family and obliquely refer to sex lives. Another pressing topic is their fragile legal status which depends entirely on employment. If they’re fired or their charge dies, they either exit the country stat or land in a detention center. 

Into the mix enters Etai (John Bambery), a budding young gay Israeli filmmaker who proposes the dolls be the subject of his new documentary. The friends are suspicious but flattered by his attention and the prospect of some notoriety and cash. Etai, who’s never clearly defined as friend, foe or sexual interest, connects them with the obnoxious owner of Tel Aviv’s biggest club, Nazari (a convincing Elan Zafir).

After a rousing audition that includes the dolls take on both “Hava Nagila” and “Lady Marmalade,” the group gets the gig provided they pare down to three and reimagine themselves as robotic geishas.

In another culture colliding number earlier in the show, two dolls dressed as modestly dressed female settlers pair off to perform “No More Tears (Enough IS Enough).” Halfway through the disco hit, they doff their demure duds to finish the song in sparkly skivvies.

A beautifully acted subplot offers a glimpse into Sally’s work/home life caring for Chaim (Christopher Bloch) who is dying from throat cancer. The two have come to a warm understanding. Sally calls her boss Papa, and Chaim uses the pronoun she for Sally. Chaim’s daughter Adina (Lise Bruneau), who has come from New York to take her father home with her, is bit confused by the setup. It’s a subtle story of understanding and acceptance. 

James Kronzer’s dark set captures the look of Tel Aviv’s southern, less affluent neighborhoods while persuasively serving as nightclubs, various homes, and the Western Wall. Projections and sound design by Sarah Tundermann and David Lamont Wilson, respectively, create additional atmosphere.

“Paper Dolls” is part of Mosaic’s ongoing Voices From a Changing Middle East Festival.

Related Topics:
Advertisement
FUND LGBTQ JOURNALISM
SIGN UP FOR E-BLAST

Theater

A trip ‘through media, memory to examine cultural imperialism’

Ashil Lee on Woolly’s ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt’

Published

5 days ago

on

May 11, 2025

By

Ashil Lee as Kurosawa in ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His
Movies and Yogurt (with live and active cultures!)’ (Photo courtesy Gisela Estrada Photography)

‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live & active cultures!)’
Through June 1
Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company
641 D St., N.W.
Tickets start at $55
Woollymammoth.net

New York City-based artist Ashil Lee, 31, acts and directs. When you enter their name in a search engine, you’re first likely to find “Korean American trans nonbinary child of immigrants.”

Currently they’re playing in Woolly Mammoth Theatre’s world premiere production of Julia Izumi’s “Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (with live & active cultures!),” a trip “through media and memory to examine cultural imperialism, ‘healthy’ consumption, and why we make art.”

The play isn’t exactly a biopic of innovative Japanese filmmaker Kurosawa (1910-1998), says Lee.  

“It’s more of a jumping off point for our own emotional journeys, which is parallel to how he’s inspired other filmmakers,” they continue. “While you may not have seen his ground-breaking samurai films, you’ve undoubtedly seen lots of movies and TV directly inspired by his work.” 

Recently, I called Lee at their temporary Woolly-provided Penn Quarter digs just a block from the theater. Smart and warmly engaging, they were enthusiastic to share what brings them to D.C. 

WASHINGTON BLADE: How did you find your way into this interestingly titled play?

ASHIL LEE: My part, Actor Two, was originally written for a female actor. When playwright and cast member Julia [Izumi] asked me if I was open to auditioning for the role, I agreed and subsequently booked the part. 

Julia and I know each other from working in New York [“The Nosebleed” at The Lincoln Center Theatre] where she was associate director and an understudy, and I was an actor. She learned the part, but never went on stage, so our experience was limited to the rehearsal room 

Now I get to act with Julia with people watching.

BLADE: Actor Two sounds pretty wide open. 

LEE: And that’s what so great about it. A name like Actor Two that means you’re going to play a lot of different roles which is true in this case. More specifically, I play Stage Hand, myself, and an older version of Kurosawa. 

BLADE: You play the iconic filmmaker’s filmmaker? 

LEE: All of the cast play Kurosawa at different stages in his life. Similar to varied cultural strains of yogurt, we call them the different strains of Kurosawa.

The play includes other characters too: Heigo, Kurosawa’s older brother and childhood influence: and a famous fetishizer who proves a problematic guest, someone we love to hate.

BLADE: Are you a Kurosawa fan? 

LEE: Actually, I’ve never seen a Kurosawa film. And since one of my characters hasn’t seen any of his work either, I thought I’d hold off seeing any. This is a play that’s equally appealing to both those who know a lot about Kurasawa and those who’ve never heard of him. 

BLADE: Changing gears. Were your parents disappointed that you didn’t take a conventional career path?

LEE: I’m fortunate that my mother is an artist. She has seen the value of artistry and has encouraged me to go into the arts. To some extent, I think she lives vicariously through the way I do art as a job. Still, my parents haven’t entirely shaken that immigrant success driven mentality. They believe “you can be an artist but you have to be the best.” Whatever the best means. 

BLADE: And how are they with your gender? 

LEE: My parents know that I’m nonbinary and they’ve been understanding, however I haven’t talked much about the transmasc part of it; I’m letting them take their time on that. 

BLADE: As a kid in Lafayette, Kentucky, you played bugs (Glow-Worm, Cricket, and Charlotte). What do you like playing now? 

 LEE: I especially like parts where you play yourself and get to put on different characters. If I could only be in that kind of play for the rest of my life, I’d be more than satisfied. That’s my jam.

As a trans performer it’s such a gift. I’m able to show up completely as myself and then step into different characters without quieting myself. It feels like a gift. I think about it in relation to my gender but also my race. 

BLADE: You’re current gig in a sentence?

LEE: It’s awonderful mishmash, a theatrical playground that takes you to a lot of different places in a short amount of time and leaves you thinking about your own life. 

Continue Reading

Theater

Theatre Prometheus spreads queer joy with ‘Galatea’

Two girls dressed as boys who find love despite the odds

Published

2 weeks ago

on

May 1, 2025

By

Cate Ginsberg as Phillida and Amber Patrice Coleman as Galatea (Photo by Charlotte Hayes)

‘Galatea’
Through May 10
Theatre Prometheus
Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center
7995 Georgia Ave, Silver Spring, Md.
$27
Theatreprometheus.org

In a timely move, Theatre Prometheus thought it would be a beneficial thing to spread a little queer joy. And since the company’s mission includes engaging audiences and artists in queer and feminist art, there was nothing to stop them. 

Co-artistic directors Tracey Erbacher and Lauren Patton Villegas, both queer, agree they’ve found that joy in John Lyly’s “Galatea,” an Elizabethan-era comedy about Galatea and Phillida, two girls dressed as boys who find love despite some rather slim odds.  

Now playing at Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center on the Takoma Park/Silver Spring campus, the upbeat offering is a mix of contemporary and period, and strives to make audiences happy. Galatea’s cast includes Amber Coleman and Cate Ginsberg as the besotted pair. 

Erbacher, also the production’s director, adds “queer joy is something that I prioritized in casting actors and interviewing production people. I asked them what it means to them, and resoundingly the reply — from both them and the play — is that queer joy is the freedom to be yourself without having to think about it.

“Galatea” was first brought to Prometheus’s attention by Caitlin Partridge, the company’s literary director. Erbacher recalls, “she strongly suggested I read this very queer play. I read it and fell absolutely in love. And because it’s a comedy — I really like directing comedy — I knew that I could lean into that while not neglecting its universal themes of young love.” 

Villegas, who’s not ordinarily drawn to the classics, was also instantly smitten with Galatea.

“Usually with classics, the language doesn’t jump out at me the way modern works do,” she says. “But not so with ‘Galatea.’ The first time I heard it read aloud, I found it easy to follow and entirely accessible in the best way.”

Whether Lyly deliberately wrote a queer play isn’t known. What’s definitely known is the play was written with an all-boy performing troupe in mind; that’s partly why there are so many young female roles, the parts 10-year-old boys were playing at the time. 

There’s not a lot known about Lyly’s personal life, mostly because he wasn’t wildly famous. What’s known about the times is that there wasn’t a concept of “gay,” but there were sodomy laws regarding homosexual activity in England geared toward men having sex with men; it was all very phallocentric, Erbacher says.

She categorically adds, “Women’s sexuality wasn’t considered in the equation. In fact, it was often asked whether women were even capable of having sex with other women. It just was not part of the conversation. If there wasn’t a dick involved it didn’t count.

“Perhaps that’s how the playwright got around it. If there were two male characters in the play he could not have done it.”

Prometheus has done adaptations of ancient myths and some classics, but in this case it’s very faithful to the original text. Other than some cuts winnowing the work down to 90 minutes, “Galatea” is pretty much exactly as Lyly wrote it. 

And that includes, “girls dressed as boys who fall in love thinking girls are boys,” says Erbacher. “And then they start to clock things: ‘I think he is as I am.’ And then they don’t care if the object of their affection is a boy or a girl, the quintessential bisexual iconic line.” 

And without spoiling a thing, the director teases, “the ending is even queerer than the rest of the play.”

Erbacher and Villegas have worked together since Prometheus’s inception 11 years ago. More recently, they became co-artistic directors, splitting the work in myriad ways. It’s a good fit: They share values but not identical artistic sensibilities allow them to exchange objective feedback.

In past seasons, the collaborative pair have produced an all-women production of “Macbeth” and a queered take on [gay] “Cymbeline,” recreating it as a lesbian love story. And when roles aren’t specifically defined male or female, they take the best actor for the part.  

With Galatea, Prometheus lightens the current mood. Erbacher says, “the hard stuff is important but exhausting. We deserve a queer rom-com, a romantic sweeping story that’s not focused on how hard it is to be queer, but rather the joy of it.”

Continue Reading

Theater

Timely comedy ‘Fake It’ focuses on Native American themes

Arena Stage production features two out actors

Published

3 weeks ago

on

April 25, 2025

By

Eric Stanton Betts (standing) and Brandon Delsid in ‘Fake It Until You Make It.’ (Photo by Daniel Rader)

‘Fake It Until You Make It’
Through May 4
Arena Stage, 1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets start at $59
Arenastage.org

A farce requires teamwork. And Larissa FastHorse’s “Fake It Until You Make It” now at Arena Stage is no exception. 

The timely comedy focuses on Native American nonprofits fractiously housed in a shared space. Friction rises when rivals River (Amy Brenneman), a white woman operating in the Indigenous world, goes up against the more authentic Wynona (Shyla Lefner) to win a lucrative Native-funded grant.   

While Brenneman (best known for TV’s Judging Amy) is undeniably a big draw, it takes a group collaboration to hit marks, land jokes, and pull off the well-executed physical comedy including all those carefully timed door slams.

As members of the six-person “Fake It” cast, Brandon Delsid and Eric Stanton Betts, both out actors of partly indigenous ancestry, contribute to the mayhem. Respectively, Delsid and Betts play Krys and Mark, a pair of two-spirited Native Americans who meet farcically cute and enjoy one of the play’s more satisfying arcs. 

For Krys, every attractive man is a potential next fling, but when Mark, handsome and relatively reserved, arrives on the scene, it’s something entirely different. 

Both onstage and sometimes off, Betts plays the straight man to Delsid’s waggishness. But when it comes down to real life business, the friends are on the same page: not only are the L.A.-based, up-and-coming actors intensely serious about their film and stage careers, but they’re also particularly engaged in the themes of Indigenous People found in “Fake It.” 

On a recent Wednesday following a matinee and an audience talkback, they were ready for a phone interview. 

In establishing whose voice was whose, Delsid clarified with “I’m the one who sounds a little like a Valley girl.” 

WASHINGTON BLADE: Brandon, you’ve been with the show since its early work-shopping days in 2022 and through its debut in Los Angeles and now Washington. Have things evolved? 

BRANDON DELSID: Definitely. I’ve grown up in the last couple of years and so has my character; it’s hard to know where I end and Kry begins. There’s been a real melding.

Eric and I are both queer, and to get to play these roles that are so human, imperfect, sexy, and interesting is really joyful.

As queer artists you don’t always get the chance to do work like this. So many stories are queer trauma, which is incredibly important, but it’s liberating to feel joy and ride it off into the sunset, which, without revealing too much, is kind of what we get to do.

BLADE: There’s some race shifting in “Fake It” particularly with regard to “pretendian” (a pejorative term describing a person who has falsely claimed Indigenous status). 

ERIC STANTON BETTS:  The last few years I’ve been on a journey with my cultural identity and place in the world. I’m a mixed BIPOC artist, my dad is Black and Native American by way of the Cherokee tribe and my mom is white. 

Since 2020, I’ve tried to figure out where I belong in this cultural history that I haven’t had a tie to throughout my life; it’s gratifying to find my way back to my indigeneity and be welcomed. 

In the play, race shifting is introduced through farce. But it’s never in a disrespectful way; it’s never mocked or done in a way to take away from others. The playwright parallels race shifting with gender fluidity. 

DELSID: But in life, there are people posing as Indigenous, actively taking grants, and the play goes there, we don’t hold back. Larissa, our playwright, has made it clear that she’s not trying to figure it out for us. With that in mind, we hope people leave the theater interested and curious to learn more. 

BLADE: Mark arrives kind of the middle of some crazy drama, bringing along a jolt of romance. 

BETTS:  Yeah, when I show up, we’re all sort of shot out of a cannon, struggling to keep up with the initial lie. 

DESLID: A very gay cannon. 

BLADE: What’s up next for you two?

BETTS: Both Brandon and I are up for the same part in a TV pilot, so one of us may be getting some very good news. I also have a Tyler Perry film coming out soon [he plays a model, not an unfamiliar gig for Betts]. 

DELSID: Coming up, I have a recurring part on HBO’s “The Rehearsal,” and a supporting part in “June and John,” a Luc Besson film. But doing “Fake It Until You Make It” in L.A. and now D.C. has been a special time in our lives. It’s 23/7 togetherness. There’s that hour for sleep. 

Continue Reading

Popular