a&e features
‘The Inheritance’ actors reflect on two-part AIDS drama as Broadway production winds down
Great White Way premiere last fall drew mixed reaction but inspired gay players in the cast

‘The Inheritance’
Wednesdays/Saturdays/Sundays at 1 p.m.
Thursdays/Fridays at 7 p.m.
‘Part 2’
Wednesdays/Saturdays/Sundays at 7 p.m.
Through March 15
Ethel Barrymore Theatre
243 W. 47th St.
New York
A group of four young actors in the cast of “The Inheritance” on Broadway have more in common than a numeric designation noting their membership in the writer’s workshop/internal dialogue that yielded Matthew Lopez’s two-part, nearly seven-hour play.
Set to close on March 15 after 138 post-preview performances (86 of “The Inheritance” and 52 of “The Inheritance Part 2”), this adaptation of E. M. Forster’s “Howards End” sees thematic motifs, plot points and personal fortunes from the 1910 novel play out in a world where PrEP-savvy, politically astute contemporary gay Manhattanites bond, sometimes spar, with counterparts who came of age in Gotham during the HIV/AIDS epidemic’s plague years.
It debuted in London in early 2018 and opened on Broadway last September to largely favorable reviews but a recurring critique has been that unlike its obvious predecessor “Angels in America,” its dramatic heft doesn’t always justify its luxurious length. A New York Times review drew such polarized reader response that the paper had playwright Lopez write a highly unusual piece last month on what inspired the work and why he thought response had been so mixed.
Although there are straight actors playing gay roles in the cast, actors Jordan Barbour, Jonathan Burke, Carson McCalley and Arturo Soria, all identify as either queer or gay and deliver performances that set off ping after ping on the LGBTQ authenticity radar.
As for the four young men on deck at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, “They’re sort of the blurred line between the characters we’re playing and ourselves,” says Jordan Barbour (Young Man 6), recalling a rehearsal note from playwright Lopez, who explained each of them represents, “a different facet of (lead character) Eric Glass’s brain. They’re the manifestations of the ideas he has while writing the story, which will become the play the audience is watching.”
People can change, the play constantly reminds us, and the sum total of their actions determine whether they’ve faced the final curtain having left a legacy, or squandered their inheritance. To that end, each Young Man maintains a presence throughout the play, occasionally popping up to provide juicy narrative tidbits, or exercise author’s prerogative to revise, setting certain characters down different paths.
Jason and Stephen are two notable beneficiaries of the play’s fondness for sudden pivots. Both mutual friends of Eric, Jason is a first grade teacher in a relationship with Stephen, whose career changes when Young Man 8 declares him to be “a high school science teacher,” cutting off Young Man 2 in mid-sentence, to reboot a timeline that once saw him working as “a human rights —.”
But Young Man 2 does have his say, when a rapid-fire volley with Young Man 8 sees Stephen’s relationship with Jason go from boyfriend, to partner, to husband. What’s more, Stephen’s name is now the same as his husband, giving the couple their own coveted shorthand moniker (“The Jasons”).
Just prior to those alterations, we learn Eric and Tristan met shortly after college. Three dates yielded no romance, but their chemistry proved the perfect formula for a best friend dynamic that remains intact, a seed that takes root when tensions arise down the road.
Barbour, who identifies as gay, says he’s proud to play the role of Tristan, although he does not share his character’s status as a person living with HIV.
That said, notes Barbour, “I wanted that aspect of Tristan to be just that, another part of him, not a defining characteristic. But I do feel like I have a great deal of responsibility on my shoulders, because that is sorely represented in theater, and pop culture in general — not just HIV-positive men, but black gay men.”
As one of many friends who circle their wagons when Eric’s rebound love interest shows the classic signs of a toxic mismatch, straight-shooting Tristan excels at lobbing the kind of quality zingers one expects at a social event where alcohol mixes with the largely gay guest list. But when he engages in debate with the new guy, a billionaire whose support of Trump is unabashedly rooted in the quest for better profit margins, Tristan’s return volley reveals a firm grasp of history and lands, for the most part, on the right side of civility.
The writing does much of the heavy lifting here, but it’s given additional dimension by the actor and director Steven Daltry’s commitment to create a Tristan who reflects the fact that Barbour is the first African American to be cast in the role.
“So as far as that scene goes,” says Barbour, of the sparring session with wealthy conservative Henry Wilcox, “this is a gay black man who is in a room with a Trump voter, whose entire platform has been built on hate, so the challenge was to find how this character is able to unleash his frustration, but also maintain a certain level-headedness. … I often find myself in circles where I can’t lose my cool, because if you unleash your anger, you get labeled as ‘the angry black man.’ And Tristan, he really should have anger at Henry, but he manages to share it in a manner that is not destructive.”
Arturo Luis Soria, who identifies as queer, was also asked to bring his background to the forefront.
“In previous productions,” he says, “I don’t think Jason (2)was Latino.” But Matthew (the playwright) came up to me and said, ‘I want you to put some Spanish in the show.’”
During the rehearsal process, recalls Soria, “I was encouraged to ad lib. Matthew and the director were like, ‘Play, play play!’ All of a sudden, there was a salsa number in the show. I get to dance. I mention flan! It was great to bring my culture, and the language of my family, to the stage.”
And with Jason, adds Soria, “I also get to step into this unapologetically queer force of joy and energy and camp, and I love playing that. When I approached this play, I didn’t want to cut that, or the cultural side, out of me. This was an opportunity to say, ‘Yes, we’re here. Our stories need to be told.’”
Soria says the Broadway production’s commitment to tell those stories has not gone unnoticed.
“A lot of people, a lot of Latinos I’ve spoken to after the show, they’re really happy to see that.”
Count Supreme Court Justice Sonia Maria Sotomayor among those who’ve issued favorable rulings.
“She said some beautiful things to me, about my portrayal of Jason,” Soria says. “That was a huge honor, to hear it from her.”
Others in the cast have similar stories.
Jonathan Burke, who plays Young Man 5, a voice of reason/talent agent, and Charles Wilcox (son of Henry Wilcox) recalls a post-performance conversation with an older person who lived through the plague years.
“There’s a point where we mention names of people who died during the epidemic,” says Burke, “and two of them, back to back, were the names of him and his partner, who died. He said, “I felt his presence with me, like I was with him.’ What more can we ask for, if he feels that love and energy again? And a lot of young people are very moved by it, because they’ve not seen the story of the epidemic played out so honestly and vividly. It’s made them aware of what people before us went through.
Burke, who describes his Young Man 5 as “a baseline of who I am, as a black, gay young man living in the 21st century,” found in Charles (son of Henry) Wilcox “a character so far from myself, who has a completely different perspective from a lot of other characters in the play. He’s not a villain. He just wants what’s best for his family, to make sure their legacy stays strong. I wanted to find the humanity in a character who may seem villainous to some.”
Queer-identified Carson McCalley plays Young Man 3 and, in his portrayal of young Henry Wilcox, brings shades of gray to the character’s highly polarizing contemporary incarnation.
“I was never scared of showing him as flawed,” McCalley says. “The play has an incredible range of queer people, and I don’t think showing someone who (does what he does because he) is scared, is dangerous to the community. In fact, I think it’s an opportunity.”
He relates.
“For a long time, I’ve been really scared. It’s hard being an actor in general, and harder being a queer actor. You’re always thinking about how you’re being viewed. There’s this subconscious bias that the industry has, boxing people in. … But I have never, in my life, been able to connect to anything in a deeper way. So although it’s scary to be a queer actor, the payoff is unimaginable, when you have an opportunity to tell a story that you can own 100 percent, that’s in your blood.”

a&e features
The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.
Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives
Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward.
“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.
Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives.
From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together.
“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”
Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.
According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said.
When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”
“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”
But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center.
Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.
“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said.
Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires.
Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down.
“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”
Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form.
“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’”
Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church.
“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said.
Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.
Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet.
“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said.
Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training.
“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked.
Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.
To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said.
Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition.
“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”
Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.
Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.
“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.
This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).
a&e features
Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
Capitol Hill staple remains ‘a caring community’
America’s 250th isn’t the only milestone birthday D.C. is celebrating this year.
Beloved D.C. restaurant Mr. Henry’s, that Capitol Hill staple, celebrates its Diamond Jubilee all year long. Named for its original owner Henry Yaffe, the restaurant opened on a warm day 60 years ago in the summer of 1966 and has never looked back.
Yaffe took over what was then a country western restaurant, renovated the interior to his liking, and created an institution. Yet Yaffe had another goal. As a gay man, “he created Mr. Henry’s to be a place where everyone felt welcome — not easy in 1966 — and he succeeded,” says current owner Mary Quillian.

“Mr. Henry’s has long been a place the LGBTQ community has supported because they felt and still feel welcomed,” says Quillian. Even in the current administration, “the gay community and the diversity-minded community continue to come.”
Since then, Mr. Henry’s has changed hands, opened and closed its second floor, welcomed famed musical acts, and played host to politicians, date nights, breakups, and birthdays. But it still feels like home (and has a note in the National Trust for Historic Preservation) at 601 Pennsylvania Ave., S.E.
Its wood-paneled, Victorian-inspired art-filled décor in the downstairs dining room and bar serves American pub fare for lunch and dinner daily, with brunch on weekends (and a dog-friendly patio). Upstairs, Mr. Henry’s hosts live jazz performances and special events most nights, continuing a musical tradition that has defined the venue for decades. That upstairs bar has played host to names like Roberta Flack and Woody Allen.
Musician Kevin Cordt said that, “Mr. Henry’s has been a part of my life for more than 30 years. I started as a customer, then became a bartender and server, and now I have the good fortune to play trumpet at one of the best live music venues in Washington, D.C.”
Aaron Myers, executive director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, is also a supporter. “Not many cities can sport venues that have consistently served the community in the space of culture for more than 50 years, let alone can brag as the birthplace of culture defining talent.”
From the start, Yaffe promoted a rare yet celebrated combination of locals’ bar and soulful nightlife venue. Mr. Henry’s has attracted a diverse crowd at a time when such spaces were – and perhaps still are – uncommon, a diversity that is credited with helping protect the pub during the 1968 D.C. riots.
Longtime customer Evelyn Branic said, “Mr. Henry’s has been my ‘Cheers’ hangout since my wife and I moved to the Hill in 1987. I’ve experienced many iconic moments meeting politicians, reporters, civic activists, and neighbors engaging in spirited conversations. Whether political, LGBTQ, historians, neighbors, or out-of-towners, everyone could find a special place to be greeted as a friend.”
Its welcoming tables come dabbed with a bit of tea: In 1971, in a moment that has since become part of Capitol Hill lore, Yaffe lost the pub in a poker game to Larry Quillian. The Quillian family, recognizing the special role Mr. Henry’s played in the neighborhood, took over ownership, and committed to preserving its spirit. Today, Larry’s daughter Mary owns the bar, having given it a bit of a facelift for the bar’s 50th birthday, bringing in new tables and some fresh menu items.
For example, the menu has some of those dishes that regulars would riot if they disappeared. The Reuben and the hamburgers, the chili and in-house roasted turkey have never departed the menu. Dishes do evolve, says Quillen: they added wings about two decades ago.
In 2026, the restaurant is hosting monthly ticketed “decades” parties, celebrating each of the 10-year periods the restaurant’s been open, plus there were specials in June for Pride. The official 60th anniversary gala takes place Aug. 29, featuring performers, beverages, timeless favorite foods, swag – and the unveiling of a new cocktail.
Inclusive, eccentric, eclectic, Mr. Henry’s is looking forward to maintaining its centrality to diverse crowds in Capitol Hill. Battling inflation, rising menu prices, changing tastes, and thin margins, Quillian says that Mr. Henry’s has — and will always be — “a caring community for so many different folks. And THAT is why I am committed to keeping us going. Society needs places like Mr. Henry’s, now more than ever.”
a&e features
Television loses a legend, longtime ‘Will & Grace’ director James Burrows
Iconic hitmaker leaves behind a legacy of telling LGBTQ stories
You don’t have to be a pretentious film major to name 10 movie directors. But naming television directors is not that simple. They’re the unsung heroes of your favorite shows, and the late James Burrows was the television director. He passed on June 19, but his DNA runs through television history.
He directed over 1200 episodes of television and over 50 pilots. He co-created “Cheers” and directed many episodes of long-running series like “Friends,” “Taxi,” “Frasier,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and “Two and a Half Men.” You also may remember him from playing a heightened version of himself on the Lisa Kudrow comedy “The Comeback.”
He has left an indelible mark on the LGBTQ community. As recently as last year, he directed the series run of “Mid-Century Modern” starring Nathan Lane, Matt Bomer, and Linda Lavin. He was also a longtime director of “Will & Grace” and directed every episode of the series revival. He even directed the unaired “Absolutely Fabulous” pilot with Kathryn Hahn, Kristen Johnston, and Zosia Mamet.
Not to mention he’s worked with queer icons throughout history, including Betty White and Stockard Channing on their single-season series, and Jennifer Coolidge in “2 Broke Girls.”
He started his career on shows like “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Rhoda,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and the first four seasons of “Taxi.”
He continued to work steadily and directed successful pilots that went to series for “Roc,” “3rd Rock From the Sun,” “Dharma & Greg,” and “Wings.” He directed multiple episodes of “Friends,” “Caroline in the City,” and “Frasier.”
This magic continued into the 2000s with him directing the pilots for “Two and a Half Men,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and multiple episodes of “Mike & Molly,” and the entire return series of “Will & Grace.”
What was the secret to his success? He’d enact the “fun clause” in his contract. In his words, “Life is too short to deal with obnoxious leads,” he shared. “So as long as the writing is good and the cast is fun, I’m going to enjoy the experience.”
He had the magic touch, having multiple pilots turned into long-running series. He was nominated for an Emmy 24 times in 26 years and worked consistently until a year before his death.
The secret was the way he brought the cast together. He describes, “it was my job to mold them into an ensemble, and they did round into a group of people who loved each other.”
This earned him 11 Emmy Awards and five Directors Guild of America Awards, including being awarded the inaugural DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Television Direction.
In a 2003 interview by the Television Academy, he was asked how he wants to be remembered, and he said, “That every night forever you can tune in somewhere, and there’ll be a show I did.”
He’s survived by his wife, Debbie, four daughters, seven grandchildren, and the countless people whose careers he launched and the countless viewers he inspired with his television legacy.
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