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Character-driven ‘Inheritance’ echoes literary debt with generational interminglings

Hit Broadway play borrows liberally from a gay past — in multiple ways

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The Inheritance review, gay news, Washington Blade
From left, Jordan Barbour, Darryl Gene Daughtry Jr., Kyle Soller, Arturo Luis Soria and Kyle Harris in ‘The Inheritance,’ on the boards now on Broadway. (Photo by Matthew Murphy, courtesy MurphyMade)

Like a writer on deadline, desperate to fill blank space with words of legacy-worthy brilliance, no one who populates “The Inheritance” is beyond borrowing a page or two from the past, if they think it might prove useful in defining or defending themselves.

Making its mark on Broadway, with much of the stellar cast in tow after an award-winning 2018 run on London’s West End, Matthew Lopez’s six-and-a-half-hour, two-part look at friendships and friction between contemporary gay Manhattanites and those who lived on the island during the height of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, owes its pulpy plot to “Howards End.” Following previews, it officially opened last week at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre (243 W. 47th St.) in New York (tickets are here).

Chalk it up to generational differences if you hold the 1992 Merchant Ivory film adaptation in roughly the same esteem as the 1910 E. M. Forster novel — a transgression committed early on by a youthful “Inheritance” character in one of many alternately playful and finger-wagging know-your-history moments. And we need those moments, especially since Young Man 10 goes on to note, of Forster’s turn-of-the-century setting, “But I mean, the world is so different now. I can’t identify with it at all.”

Lopez knows otherwise. And as Act I begins, he makes his case with epic gusto, examining the eternal push and pull between the knowing and the uninformed, the rich and the poor, the healthy and the sick, the upward trajectory and the downward spiral. 

It’s that last category that does much of the heavy lifting. By casting actors in dual roles both complementary and contrasting, and bringing together characters who share similar traits and fates, the lines between disparate generations begin to blur although stark differences remain, as they prod each other on matters of meaning and morality.

Even the play’s philosophically opposed are hard-pressed not to see themselves in their sparring partner and their willingness to pivot is what separates victor from victim.

At the play’s molten core is fundamentally decent, newly minted 33-year-old Eric Glass (Kyle Soller), whose culinary skills and nurturing instincts earn him the loyalty of a catty group of chatty gay chums, each seemingly more driven and successful than he is. Jason and Jason are both teachers (and happily married), Tristan is a doctor and Eric works for a social justice engineering company. That Jasper founded. At 21.  

Good jobs and self-image aside, looming large in Part 1 is Eric’s increasingly fraught relationship with Toby Darling (Andrew Burnap), a soon-to-be successful novelist/playwright with a hidden past and an emerging sweet tooth for fame, Fire Island, tweaking and twinks.

Eric and Toby live — thoroughly above their station — in a rent-controlled Upper West Side apartment that’s been in Eric’s family since his grandmother and grandfather signed the lease in 1947 (gasps shot through the Ethel Barrymore Theatre when the monthly charge for their three-bedroom, two-bathroom abode, with terrace, was revealed to be a paltry $575). 

Following his grandmother’s death, Eric moved in, but not with a strong enough claim to prevent eviction. Years go by until building management starts that process — news Eric keeps from Toby through the duration of their engagement. Words are exchanged. Wedding rings are not.   

 Also living in Eric’s building is contemplative Walter Poole (Paul Hilton), described by Toby as “a sheer curtain in front of an open window. He’s like Valium.” Walter shares an apartment with his longtime partner, Henry Wilcox (strapping John Benjamin Hickey, who balances his character’s Republicanism with intensity, charisma and just enough likability to keep detractors off balance). Both are drawn into Eric’s orbit and emerge the better for it, but they’ve got decades on him and with that comes a gravity that exerts profound influence.

Walter sees in Eric a kindred spirit and uses his own story to set him on a path that will give his life meaning and purpose. Henry’s contribution is just as profound, although not as nurturing. (He withholds news of Walter’s desire that Eric inherit a steeped-in-history upstate property they purchased during their early years together.)

Henry’s denial of that dying wish comes back to bite in Part II, when he and Eric, both feeling the absence of their significant others, form an unlikely bond, which leads to an even more inexplicable marriage. Meanwhile, Toby shacks up with Leo, a down-on-his-luck sex worker who bares a striking resemblance to Adam, the young man Eric and Toby took under their wings in happier times.

Samuel H. Levine plays Adam and Leo, with vocal and posture choices that cry out for a new Tony Award category. Newbie actor Adam, cast as the lead in Toby’s wildly successful, based-on-his-book Broadway play, earns him sudden notoriety. Leo winds up back on the streets, when his mentor/student relationship with Toby turns sour.

HIV positive and seemingly destined for the grave, Leo has a chance encounter with Eric, whose separation from Henry will bring all concerned back to that highly contested upstate property, where the play’s title looms like the dates-back-to-George-Washington cherry tree that stands firm at the foot of a dwelling filled with the ghosts of former residents.

The house, you see, is where Walter established a de facto hospice for dozens of ’80s-era gay men who had nowhere else to turn during the final stages of AIDS. That sprawling act of altruism, which originated with Walter’s single act of kindness toward a mutual friend about to succumb to the plague, drew Henry’s contempt and infected their relationship until its dying day.

Yikes. That’s a lot to digest — and in the unlikely event you lack food for thought during intermission, the condom-filled basket at the tail end of the long line to the men’s room reminds one that stimulating conversation isn’t the only thing worth pursuing after curtain time.

As for the runtime, a bit of pruning wouldn’t hurt. In scenes with Eric and the gang capering about the stage dispensing cocktail party takes on matters such as what constitutes camp, the play enters too-cute-by-half territory.

It’s a good thing we have E. M. Forster roaming the boards, because he excels at putting things in context and perspective. Living to 91 and being dead since 1970 will do that to a person. And it doesn’t hurt in the least to be played by Paul Hilton, who brings to the role many of the same introspective qualities he’s poured into Walter, but with an even more profound sense of loss, melancholy and hope.

Introduced in the prologue as a professorial presence who guides a group of young writers through the creation of the work that will become the play we’re watching (subject to revision, as we go along), Morgan is so invested in their success, he even lets them use the first sentence of “Howards End” as a starting point.

Such acts of benevolence come easy to the author, who sees in these young men every brave choice and liberating possibility he denied himself. 

Appearing to Leo on a Fire Island beach, under the light of a full moon (yes, he does that sort of thing, just go with it), Morgan calls his gay-themed novel “Maurice,” written in 1914 but held for publication until his death, “the most terrifying and the most exhilarating thing I had ever done. Hiding it from the world was the most shameful.” 

That may or may not be how Morgan (aka Forster) would have actually felt. As written, he’s more better angel than dogged biographical sketch — appropriate, perhaps, for a play that reaches its own heights by burning through the source material it inherited. In doing so, Lopez invites us to dine out on a hard truth: Those who follow in our footsteps need good stories in order to create their own, so keep that in mind, and act accordingly.

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Theater

Jessica Phillips shines in ‘Penelope,’ a ‘pandemic parable’

Alex Bechtel was inspired to write about loneliness, waiting, separation

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Jessica Phillips in ‘Penelope’ at Signature Theatre. (Photo by Daniel Rader)

‘Penelope’
Thorough April 28
Signature Theatre, the Ark
4200 Campbell Ave, Arlington 
$40-$99
Sigtheatre.org

In the new musical “Penelope,” Broadway’s Jessica Phillips gives an unforgettable take on the title role torn from the pages of Homer’s “Odyssey” — more or less. Fortified by bourbon and backed by a Greek chorus of musicians, the character uncharacteristically steps out from the background to share her story surrounding two decades waiting on the island kingdom of Ithica for the return of her absent husband Odysseus. 

Sometimes described as a “pandemic parable,” the 70-minute work is based on composer/playwright Alex Bechtel’s personal experience. While separated from his partner during COVID, he was inspired to write about loneliness, waiting, and separation, a subject Phillips was eager to tackle. 

An accomplished Broadway actor and mother of two, Phillips, 52, is best known for memorable turns in “Dear Evan Hansen,” “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” “Next to Normal,” and “Priscilla Queen of the Desert.” 

Two years ago, she made news for coming out as queer after having long been identified as straight. Parts of the theater scene were caught a bit off guard, but only momentarily. Now, she lives in New York with her partner Chelsea Nachman, a theatrical publicist.“We share the same professional community but in very different roles. I think that makes life easier for us.” 

Currently enjoying an extended run at Signature in Arlington where the trees are in bloom, she spares time for a phone interview, starting off with“Perfect timing. I’ve just finished the last song on Beyonce’s ‘Cowboy Carter.’ Let’s talk.”

WASHINGTON BLADE: Increasingly, I hear artists report having been deeply changed by the pandemic. Did that have anything to do with your coming out in 2022?

PHILLIPS: Definitely. During the pandemic, those of us in the arts were in deep crisis, because our industry had collapsed in almost every way. At the same time, that space allowed us to be contemplative about where we were. For me, that period of time gave me the space to both come to terms with and confront those fears about saying who I was, out loud and publicly. 

BLADE: Did you have professional concerns?

PHILLIPS: Oh yeah, I was specifically worried about perception. Not so much about being queer but more what it meant to have come out relatively late in life. I had some fear around whether people would take me less seriously. 

At the same time, I was nervous about being fully transparent and worried about my privacy and being vulnerable. Like other women I knew, I was more comfortable dealing with traditional societal expectations in America. I grew up with those cultural expectations and thought of myself in those terms for a long time. 

BLADE: What changed? 

PHILLIPS: What’s been so freeing for me, I can confront how I took on those expectations and say I’m not going to let those determine how I live my life. I get to decide.

BLADE: There’s a lot of wonderful storytelling in “Penelope.” What’s been your way into that? 

PHILLIPS: My way of moving through the show is allowing this character to experience all five stages of grief. Humor, slapstick comedy, bargaining, denial. And ultimately acceptance and deep grief. 

When an audience is alive and invested, it’s palpable and elevates the storytelling. When an audience is having a thinking rather feeling experience that changes the tone of my storytelling and not in a bad way. 

It’s interesting how much they’re a part of everything. It’s really intimate. The audience is just six feet away. It’s a unique experience and we’re on this ride together. And I find this to be a really beautiful and satisfying experience that I’ve not had before.

BLADE: After Signature, what’s next for “Penelope”? 

PHILLIPS: That’s the million-dollar question. Hopefully we’ll take it forward to New York or tour it, but that requires willingness and money. I do think there’s a broad audience for this. It’s beautiful, unique, artistic, really emotional, and at the same time possesses an intellectual quality that’s missing from a lot of commercial theater these days.

BLADE: And what’s next for theater?

Phillips: I think one good thing that came out of the pandemic is that people like Alex Bechtel had an opportunity to create. In the next decade we’re going to see the results of that. I think we have some extraordinary things to look forward to. If a work like “Penelope” is any indication, we’re all in for something really good. 

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Theater

‘Nancy,’ soaked in ‘80s nostalgia, is ‘queer AF’

Mosaic production led by out director Ken-Matt Martin

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Ken-Matt Martin (Photo courtesy Martin)

‘Nancy’ 
Through April 21
Mosaic Theater Company at Atlas Performing Arts Center
1333 H St., N.E.
$53-$70
Mosaictheater.org

Set in 1985, smack dab in the middle of the Reagan years, Rhiana Yazzie’s “Nancy” is totally soaked in nostalgia: shoulder pads, high hair, Van Halen, etc. For some theatergoers, it jogs the memory and for others serves as an introduction to an alien era.

Out director Ken-Matt Martin describes the production (now at Mosaic Theater) as “queer AF.” He continues, “But that’s true with everything I touch. My aesthetics and interests are unapologetically queer. When you first walk into theater, you see a big ass picture of Nancy’s face. The whole play is kind of set on her face.”

Martin, who puts his age as “somewhere over 30,” gives a brief rundown via telephone: “‘Nancy’ places two women on parallel tracks and we get to watch them on a collision course. Esmeralda [Anaseini Katoa], a Navajo mother and advocate determined to improve the condition of her family and reservation. Her story is juxtaposed to that of Nancy Reagan [Lynn Hawley] who’s busy at the White House consulting with society astrologer Joan Quigley to help guide Reagan [Michael Kevin Darnall] and his administration. The women’s worlds come together over Nancy’s direct ancestral connection to Pocahontas.” 

The busy storyline also includes a moment surrounding Rock Hudson’s final days, a moment when well-coiffed, clothes-crazy Nancy was presented with the opportunity to make a difference but chose not to. 

“And the work doesn’t let Nancy off the hook,” adds Martin. “It’s a full meal of a play.”

Produced in partnership with New Native Theatre based in the Twin Cities, Mosaic’s epic offering, a very D.C. play about ancestry and ambition, almost looks at Ron and Nancy as cartoon characters but isn’t without empathy.  

Martin and Yazzie both love satire and absurdity; they enjoy comedy and things that are funny until they’re not. So, the evening shifts in tone as it moves into more serious areas, particularly an exploration of how the ‘80s and Reagan’s failed trickle-down agenda set the stage for many of today’s problems.  

The director’s way into theater was as a child actor. After successfully begging his mother to drive him from their native Little Rock, Ark., to a regional Atlanta audition, he booked an appearance on Nickelodeon’s landmark series “All That” and snagged an agent in the process. He continued to act for a time before becoming interested in other facets of showbiz. 

After graduating with an MFA in directing from Brown University/Trinity Repertory Company, Martin embarked on a terrifically busy schedule. In addition to freelance directing, he has helmed and helms various prestigious companies as artistic director and managing producer (Pyramid Theatre Company in Des Moines, IA, Victory Gardens Theater in Chicago, and was recently appointed Interim Artistic Director of Baltimore Center Stage and Arkansas Repertory Theatre.)

Currently an itinerant professional (Martin gave up his place in Chicago and hops from job to job where they house him), he says, “It can get a little old, but overall, not bad at all.” 

Next up, Martin is directing Olney Theatre’s production “Long Way Down,” the adaptation of a Young Adult novel by DMV native Jason Reynolds. “It’s a big regional tryout that after a limited engagement in Olney leaves for the Apollo Theatre in New York. I’m excited.” 

Martin is at home with plays that are tricky to stage, making him a good fit for “Nancy” with its multiple locations, scope, and scale. He’s enjoyed the challenge of the work’s collapsing time lines and the playwright’s tough, complicated, smart, and fast-moving language. 

“Perhaps most importantly,” he adds. “Rhiana has entrusted me with the opportunity to tell this very unique story, a story that can resonate with Native people and Native audiences. This part is very new to me as a director.”

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Theater

Talented pair of local queer actors tackles ‘Little Shop of Horrors’

Ford’s production features terrific score

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Chani Wereley (Audrey) and Derrick D. Truby Jr. (Seymour) in the 2024 Ford’s Theatre production of Little Shop of Horrors. (Photo by Scott Suchman)

‘Little Shop of Horrors’ 
Through May 18
Ford’s Theatre
511 10th St., N.W.
$33-$95
Fords.org 

Ever since premiering off-Broadway in 1982, “Little Shop of Horrors” has drawn a devoted following of avid audiences as well as performers eager to act in the show. Now playing at Ford’s Theatre, the doo-wop, dark comedy features a terrific cast including a wildly talented pair of local queer actors who’ve longed to appear in the show since they were kids. 

Set in the urban 1960s, Alan Menken and Howard Ashman’s hit show with a terrific score follows the wacky rise of Seymour, a nebbishy florist in a Skid Row shop who changes his fortunes by unintentionally marketing an exotic, human eating plant.  

Chani Wereley, 28, who plays Seymour’s love interest Audrey, a hyper femme downtowner with an edge, has had her on eye the role for years. Wereley says, “Audrey’s been around the block more than once, but I approach her as a person who moves through the world with love and hope.”

The queer D.C. native adds, “On long trips to visit family in Canada or Florida, the first thing we’d do is pop a ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ video [film version] into the car’s VHS player. I’ve watched is so many times, I could quote the whole movie to you.”

After auditioning to play Audrey in director Kevin S. McAllister’s production at Ford’s, Wereley never thought she’d book the part, and when they said she got it, she cried.  

Similarly, Tobias A. Young, 34, the pansexual actor who voices the part of the bloodthirsty plant affectionately dubbed Audrey II, explains his intense interest in the work: “I started watching the film in ’86. Growing up as a little gay boy in Calvert County, Md., I wanted to be blonde Audrey [played by Ellen Green in the movie]. I didn’t know much about musicals at the time, but I was absorbed.” 

When asked by Ford’s to play the voracious plant Audrey II without auditioning, his reply was an unhesitant “yes.” 

Voicing a role requires Young to sing from backstage in a black box rigged with monitors and a mixing board. He says, “people ask if I’m singing from inside of the ever-growing, scary plant. No, I’m not, and that’s fine. But let’s face it, actors love to be seen on stage, but I don’t feel entirely unseen as Audrey II.”

He’s worked hard and successfully with formidable puppeteers Ryan Sellers and Jay Frisby to bring parts of himself to the carnivorous plant — his sassiness, own movements, and even a tilt of his head; their efforts have drawn the actual Young into the show. 

Both Wereley and Young possess gorgeous, emotive voices as evidenced by Wereley’s striking rendition of Audrey’s “Suddenly Seymour,” and Young’s soulful “Feed Me (Git It).” Additionally, both actors are also big on queer representation in theater. 

When her young pals were listening to Britney Spears, Wereley was dancing to retro tunes like “Mashed Potato Time,” and her favorite song to this day, the Shirelle’s girl group anthem “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” As Audrey, Wereley eschews the character’s usual platinum hair for a bouncy brunette, cherry-streaked wig, tight pencil skirts, swing coats, and her very own half-sleeve tattoo. 

“It’s important for people to see themselves on stage,” she says. “Seeing me or someone like me is inherently interesting. Being that person on Instagram or with the institution, cast, or audiences is meaningful. It’s important.”

In 2011, a couple years after finishing high school, Young landed a part in “Dream Girls” at Toby’s Dinner Theatre, and he’s been working professionally ever since. Growing up, he didn’t see a lot of himself – Black and queer – on social media. He now wants to be open and honest for those out there who might not feel seen, he says

An introvert who lets everything loose on the stage, Young says, “theater is a safe space for queer people. That’s the first place we feel safe, particularly in school. And this is why we need theaters in schools, now more than ever.”

He adds, “What’s great about Ford’s is its surprises, especially when they switch up casting. It’s meaningful to see the shows you love, but why not see them with a twist? Using unexpected actors and incorporating queer people just makes it that much better.”

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