Theater
Capote gets sentimental
Celebrated writer recalls childhood in ‘Holiday’ production
A scene from ‘Holiday Memories,’ a well-written look at Truman Capote’s childhood. (Photo by DJ Corey Photography)
‘Holiday Memories’
Through Dec. 20
Theatre on the Run
3700 South Four Mile Run Drive, Arlington
$10-35
703-418-4808
‘George Is Dead’
Through Dec. 19
D.C. Arts Company
2438 18th St., N.W.
$25-35
Growing up in Depression-era Alabama, Truman Capote’s ambition was to be a tap dancer in Hollywood.
But his reality was something different. When Capote’s parents split, his mother sent him to live with distant small town relatives. In the dour household, 7-year-old Capote found a kindred spirit in his 60-ish cousin known as Miss Sook. Both were outsiders: he was a sissy and she was oddly childlike. Miss Sook called him Buddy, and they instantly became best friends.
Though his yen for the limelight never faded, Capote traded tap for literary dreams. He brilliantly used those early years spent with Miss Sook in the small town south, to write his autobiographical short stories “A Thanksgiving Visitor” and the especially tender “A Christmas Memory.”
Capote’s classics are brought to life in “Holiday Memories,” a faithful adaptation by Russell Vandenbroucke now playing at WSC Avant Bard. Tom Prewitt directs. In the first act, Miss Sook (Charlotte Akin) urges young Buddy (played by adult actor Séamus Miller) to invite his schoolyard tormentor home for Thanksgiving dinner. The results are mixed but lessons in empathy are duly imparted. After intermission, Miss Sook shouts “It’s fruitcake weather, Buddy!” She can smell it in the air. This prompts the pair to collect numerous pecans from a neighbor’s field and kick off their arduous Christmas ritual of baking several dozen fruitcakes that they mail to a mix of far off luminaries and near strangers to whom they feel close.
The memories are narrated by the middle-aged Capote (Christopher Henley) who shares the stage with his younger self. Angular with a full head of dark hair, Henley looks nothing like Capote. Smartly, the out actor doesn’t mimic the lisping, elfin literary genius but instead successfully assays a southern gentleman storyteller given to the occasional dramatic hand gesture. Henley anchors the play.
Liz Dutton plays a range of women — a rough tomboy, a rich relative, the mill owner’s wife, but her hammy turn as Queenie the scrappy terrier would have worked better as a puppet or offstage barks. Devon Ross ably plays the men, mostly heavies including the bully and a butch uncle.
Colin Dieck’s leaf-strewn set with cutaway walls opening a rustic kitchen to a meadow and beyond conjures wistful, humorous recollections of holidays past.
At D.C. Arts Center in Adams Morgan, “George Is Dead” begins with a woman sitting in a darkened living room listening to a Christmas carol, Bing Crosby’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” But before the song ends, she turns off the radio and the play ceases to be a holiday show.
Penned by comic and writer Elaine May, “George” brings together sensible, caretaking Carla (Fiona Blackshaw) and obscenely rich and self-absorbed Doreen (Kerri Rambow).Their only connection is that Carla’s elderly mother was once Doreen’s nanny.
It’s late and Carla is at home anxiously awaiting her husband’s return from delivering a speech for Amnesty International when Doreen decked out in serious jewels and a fur coat unexpectedly shows up to announce the untimely death of her own husband, George. He died on the ski slopes in Aspen and his body is currently somewhere in Colorado awaiting return to New York and burial. Doreen needs someone to handle it. That she hasn’t seen Carla in years doesn’t seem to matter.
What follows is a hilarious exercise in one percenter selfishness. The Klunch is a newly formed theater company headed by Ian Allen, former artistic director of D.C.’s legendary Cherry Red Productions. “George is Dead” makes for a marvelously entertaining debut.
Theater
A trip ‘through media, memory to examine cultural imperialism’
Ashil Lee on Woolly’s ‘Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt’
‘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.
Theater
Theatre Prometheus spreads queer joy with ‘Galatea’
Two girls dressed as boys who find love despite the odds
‘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.”
Theater
Timely comedy ‘Fake It’ focuses on Native American themes
Arena Stage production features two out actors
‘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.
No olvidar el 11 de mayo
Blade names Delaware journalism fellowship recipient
Impact of federal gov’t RIF on D.C.’s rental market
A trip ‘through media, memory to examine cultural imperialism’
My chance encounter with a pope and why goodness still matters
American cardinal chosen as next pope
Your guide to the many Pride celebrations in D.C. region
Gideon Glick steals the show in Amazon Prime’s ‘Étoile’
Council must approve new Commanders stadium deal
