Theater
Reprising Max
Gay actor Ed Dixon draws raves for ‘Sunset’ performance
Actor Ed Dixon as Max in Signature Theatre’s current production ‘Sunset Boulevard.’ (Production photo by Chris Mueller, courtesy of Signature)
Ed Dixon’s emotional pendulum — as one might expect from an actor — swings wide.
During an hour-long interview in the lobby of Signature Theatre where he’s on the boards each night as Max in “Sunset Boulevard,” Dixon laughs uproariously and heartily several times recanting tales and dropping names from his four-decade career. And though no tears appear, two of the stories he tells involve copious sheddings thereof.
One even came during “Sunset,” though it was during his initial encounter with the musical 14 years ago when he toured with it for a year with Linda Balgord as Norma.
“In the movie it cuts away from (Max) all the time, but on the stage he’s up there a lot of time in the background just suffering,” Dixon says. “At the end of act one there was a part where I stand behind a fringe curtain at the part where Norma pulls Joe down on top of her and I would just release the curtain down on my face. Well after standing there for six months or whatever it was in that condition, feeling this wretched, painful condition, it’s like your body doesn’t know you’re only kidding. It’s like you’re really experiencing that. This one night I just started crying and cried all during intermission. People were going, ‘Are you OK? I was like, ‘Uhh, not really.’ It had really built up over the run. So how do you deal with that every day for a year? It makes you kind of crazy.”
This production, which runs through Feb. 13 and has been the second-biggest hit in Signature’s 21-year history (after “Les Miserables”), hasn’t been as emotionally draining, Dixon says. But it has been taxing. Returning to the role has been rewarding and challenging, he says.
The lessons Dixon, 62, uses to coach actors and singers for auditions in New York, where he lives on the Upper West Side, have come in handy.
“It feels different doing eight shows a week than it did 14 years ago. I was really vocally stronger 14 years ago but I’ve also been very pleased to see how much agility I still have. … I went into daily training months ago.”
It’s the most vocally challenging part Dixon — who has extensive opera and musical theater credits — has done in years.
Dixon in the Signature lobby. (Blade photo by Joey DiGuglielmo)
The Anadarko, Okla., native and son of a Church of Christ revival minister, knew early on he liked boys, even before he had the language to articulate it. Asked at church as a pre-schooler whom he would someday marry, he matter-of-factly answered Jimmy DeLong, a boy from his neighborhood.
“They said, ‘You can’t marry a boy.’ I said, ‘Why not?’ I remember that, but I didn’t know that I was gay. I just knew I liked Jimmy DeLong.”
Later, he had no idea what taunts (“Hey, queer ass!”) in middle school meant.
He arrived in New York (“Oklahoma is a wretched place,” he says) in the late ’60s and never looked back. Never even to visit his parents, from whom he was estranged and only saw twice in adulthood.
His big break came in the chorus of “No No Nannette,” a popular musical revival in 1970. Even though New York, and especially the theater world, was filled with gays at the time, it wasn’t an especially gay-friendly environment.
“Things were so different then you can’t even imagine it,” he says. “Even in the theater, you didn’t really talk overtly about it. And I was even more behind the times because I was coming from the Dark Ages. I remember in the dressing room of ‘No, No Nannette,’ there was an old queen who only spoke to us in the voice of Bette Davis and used to scare the fuck out of me. I was just like, ‘Oh god, please don’t let me end up like that, you know?’”
Even as recent as his first run with the touring version of “Sunset,” a role he’d eyed since it debuted in London in 1993, there were hints of homophobia in the casting process for the straight part. He knew everyone in the room and was chatting them up between readings. Before the callback, he was tipped off to tone it down.
“I’d had a big career by then,” he says. “One night at a party one of them pulled me aside and said, ‘They really want to know that you were married to her.’ I thought, ‘Are you kidding?’ I’d just been laughing and joking and being myself, you know, before and after I read. So I stayed Max through the whole callback and got it.”
This run, Dixon says, has been draining but creatively satisfying. He and co-star Florence Lacey have worked together several times before and enjoy a special camaraderie.
“We’re like an old married couple,” he says. “You know, I always go spend time with her in her dressing room before the show. She always tells me she loves me. She calls me Daddy and I call her Baby. It’s really sweet. She’s just one of those people who’s so sweet you think, ‘Is that real?” And with her it’s totally real.”
The feelings are mutual.
“Speaking about Ed Dixon, I’m always a gushing mess,” Lacey says. “Ed is a man of extraordinary talent with a big voice and a heart to match. He has a laugh that makes the whole world join in and he can break your heart with a look. He’s tough and sensitive both as an artist and in his friendships. I feel proud to call him my dear, dear friend.”
He’s worked non-stop since he came to New York except for a stint in rehab in the ’80s when he beat a cocaine addiction. Dixon just celebrated 20 years of sobriety.
After “Sunset” ends its run, Dixon will tour with the musical “Curtains.” And a comedy he wrote called “Scenery,” which explores the inside tract of a showbiz Lunt/Fontanne-esque couple in which the husband is gay, is getting rave reviews in Cleveland where it just opened.
Dixon says a life-defining moment came watching his mentor, the character actor George Rose, from whom he learned much about acting and life.
“He was middle aged, this gay, effete, Englishman, and he came into the room and he was just the most powerful man I had ever been in the presence of. That was a big moment for me. Because of him I realized, ‘Oh, you can be gay and still powerful.’ I didn’t know that before.”
Theater
Diverse cast tackles ‘Aguardiente’ at GALA Hispanic Theatre
Best friends rediscover their Caribbean heritage in new musical
‘Aguardiente: Where Magic Transcends Borders’
Through May 24
GALA Hispanic Theatre
3333 14th St., N.W.
$25–$65
Galatheatre.org
(surtitles in English and Spanish)
With its latest musical offering “Aguardiente: Where Magic Transcends Borders,” GALA Hispanic Theatre has cast its net wide in gathering a blend of talent including the production’s diverse 18-person cast.
Commissioned by GALA, the spanking new musical is about best friends Alberto and Alejandro (two New York writers from Puerto Rico and Colombia respectively). Together, within a short timeline under unrelenting pressure, they struggle to write the project musical of their dreams.
Along the way, the friends rediscover their Caribbean heritage through cumbia, bomba, currulao, and the magical realism of García Márquez.
Offstage, the work has been created by Luis Salgado (book), and Daniel Alejandro Gutiérrez (music), also respectively from Puerto Rico and Colombia. Multiple Helen Hayes Award-winning Salgado is directing and choreographing the GALA production.
In the role of Alejandro, out actor Sebastián Treviño is making his GALA debut opposite Samuel Garnica who plays librettist Alberto. Alejandro is the music composer who doesn’t come from a musical background. He’s simply a lover of Latin music.
Is Alejandro recognizably similar to Gutiérrez?
“Oh yeah,” says Treviño, 36. “Like Gutiérrez, Alejandro doesn’t necessarily follow musical theater rules and etiquette, and it’s his uniqueness that brings a spark to their partnership.
“I got to know him and Luis [Salgado] while touring with ‘On Your Feet!’ in 2022. You really get to know people by spending endless hours together on a bus.”
Language and voice are intertwined for Treviño, and fortunately for the amiable New York-based actor, he enjoys the challenge of a new way of speaking. To play Alejandro, it helps to sound Colombian.
As a native of Monterrey, Mexico, Spanish and Mexican dialects are Treviño’s first languages. He attended American school starting in kindergarten, consequently acquiring flawless English; and because his mother is Colombian, he is familiar with that accent too.
GALA Spanish speaking patrons can be a tough crowd. For instance, when a Mexican actor is playing a Cuban character, they know at once. And while they may embrace the performance and the production, there sometimes remains a niggling dislike for what feels a vocal inaccuracy.
“Since I’ve arrived in D.C., I’ve been practicing my Colombian accent at restaurants and other places. When a Spanish speaking server asks if I’m from Colombia, I know I’m doing something right.”
“Aguardiente” (translates as “Firewater”) is composed of several layers of reality. He explains: “First it’s us creating the show, the work, and all of those pressures and limitations that the industry places on Latino centered projects; and then there’s the fantasy layer.”
A talented tenor, his lengthy bio includes Mexico City (“Wicked,” “Rent”), Off Broadway (“Kowalski”) and North American national tours (“On Your Feet!”).
He says his “Aguardiente” solo specifically feels like ‘80s Latin rock. Also, he enjoys a fun medley number where they’re playing around with “Tropipop” (Colombian pop), classic Broadway sounds, and there’s even a Beatles moment.
In this show, we meet two determined friends, one is holding an American passport because he’s Puerto Rican, while the other, a Colombian, struggles to secure a visa.
“It’s not a stretch for me to relate to that. I’m here on a working visa, so I know all about the stress and costs that comes with that,” says Treviño.
“So much reflects their own story. That includes the setbacks and obstacles faced when trying to build something from very little, and writing about themes that aren’t considered mainstream to white American audiences.”
At just eight years old, Treviño saw “A Chorus Line” at Mont Tecnológico de Monterrey, the same college that he’d later attend. He remembers, “Seated in the second row, the young actors were rock stars to me. When I asked my father who loved the arts if one day I could perform onstage, he said yes, instantly his son’s new dream.”
Looking forward, is there a role he yearns to play? Treviño ponders the trite query with some seriousness before answering “I think it’s yet to be written.”
Theater
World premiere of ‘Everything, Devoured’ oozes queer energy
Nonbinary playwright Katherine Gwynn delivers ferocious ghost story
‘Everything, Devoured’
Through May 10
Nu Sass Productions
Sitar Arts Center
1724 Kalorama Road, N.W.
$25 (general admission)
Nusass.com
As if the world weren’t already hideous enough, Kore, the trans woman protagonist in nonbinary playwright Katherine Gwynn’s “Everything, Devoured,” wants to summon a demon to her humble Chicago apartment. While her friends think it’s just a bit of afterwork fun akin to reading horoscopes or Tarot cards, Kansas born Kore is dead serious.
Nu Sass Productions’ world premiere of Gwynn’s play oozes queer energy. Messages come across as if delivered by blow horn. It’s not afraid of expository dialogue or padding a singular moment of queer joy.
In a truly intimate black box at Sitar Arts Centers in Adams Morgan just down the block from Harris Teeter, scenic designer Simone Schneeberg deftly creates the generic flat whose ordinariness is only overshadowed by some weak attempts at individuality, but that’s all about to change.
Plans have been made, and Kore (June Dickson-Burke) has invited her nearest and dearest to her place.
Her nonbinary lesbian partner Julian (Tristan Evans) has cheap red wine and weed on the ready. Dinner is in the oven. Soon, lively trans masc bestie Dante (Selena Gill) arrives bearing a hostess gift – it’s the specially requested bag of pig blood, integral to the evening’s fun. In little time, the twentysomething friends will have painted a pentagram circled with salt in the middle of the living room floor. Candles are lit. Sacred words are spoken.
Shifts in light and sound by designers Vida Huang and Di Carey, respectively, signal contact with the beyond. Much to the friends’ surprise, they’ve successfully summoned a demon and it’s a real doozy: Ronald Reagan as demon drag queen.
Costumed in a corseted pinstripe suit adorned with a few Gaultier cones, the pronoun-less guest star from the underworld makes quite an entrance – a full-on lip sync to Madonna’s “Vogue” replete with huge flashing eyes, an evil smile and darting tongue.
Spectacularly played by O’Malley Steuerman (“actor, DRAGster, playwright, and producer from Baltimore”) Ronald Reagan as demon drag queen is lewd, taunting, and reads with the kind of sharp wit that puts other queens in the shade.
The entertainment doesn’t stop there. Soon, the demon is juggling provocative props (fleshy dildo, a baby doll, and a copy of Marx) or performing sock puppetry to a 1982 recording of journalist Lester Kinsolving asking about the “gay plague” to which Reagan’s Press Secretary Larry Speakes charmingly replies, “I don’t have it … do you?” That proved a real knee slapper in the pressroom.
Throughout the play’s early scenes, a young man sits unnoticed at Kore’s kitchen counter. Now and then, he comments with a disapproving harrumph or a distinctly gay one-liner. He’s privy to all, but the lady of the house is unaware of him until he joins the party. His name is Michael (Christian Harris). He died in 1989 and has been hanging around ever since.
Wry and undeniably spectral, Michael is the play’s link to queer past. He remembers the hurts and horrors of the AIDS epidemic, but not so much about the emergence of ‘genderqueer’ as an identity label, reflecting a shift toward a broader gender spectrum. That came later.
Without doubt, the uniformly queer cast is committed. They play their queer characters with authenticity, lending a realness to queer people’s valid concerns and fears in the current atmosphere. (For instance, anarchist/barista Dante accuses Julian of hiding out in their safe role of social worker at a nice nonprofit; and Kore speaks about the fear surrounding the Kansas bill making it illegal for transgender people to display their gender on a driver’s license.)
Based in Chicago, Gwynn has written a queer play with a punch; and prior to ever being staged, this new work was prestigiously named both a 2025 O’Neill Semi-Finalist as well as 2025 Bay Area Playwrights Festival Finalist.
Billed as a ferocious queer ghost story, “Everything, Devoured” doesn’t disappoint. In the hands of queer co-directors Tracey Erbacher and Ileana Blustein, Gwynn’s fevered yet thoughtful and quick paced but penetrating piece unfolds compellingly.
Intuitive staging and chemistry among players, especially two hander scenes involving Kore, display a quiet intensity that feels true to life. Other scenes bring out the anger, protectiveness and some divisiveness among the friends. Gwynn’s informed and powerful writing is brought to the fore.
Nu Sass Productions has been uplifting women and marginalized genders in all aspects of theater since 2009. The company’s two-part name stems from “Nu” (Chinese for woman) and “Sass” (sassy).
Its latest offering fits the bill and then some.
Theater
Rorschach stages ‘Dragon Play’ in unlikely, raw space
Out sound designer Madeline ‘Mo’ Oslejsek notes ‘sound is my bag’
‘Dragon Play’
Through May 17
Rorschach Theatre
The Stacks @ Buzzard Point
101 V St., S.W.
$50 ($35 for students and seniors)
Rorschachtheatre.org
Celebrated for its site-specific, immersive productions, Rorschach Theatre puts on plays all over town. The unlikely spots have included greenhouses, church vestibules, closed retail spaces (including a vacant downtown big and tall men’s store) and historic locales like Rock Creek Cemetery’s Adams Memorial.
For its current offering “Dragon Play” (through May 17), a tale of love and longing, Rorschach is using a raw space in The Stacks at Buzzard Point, a new mixed-use neighborhood situated where the Anacostia and Potomac rivers meet.
Out sound designer Madeline ‘Mo’ Oslejsek considers all sites – whether traditional theatrical spaces or not – specific, particularly in terms of sound. She says, “Part of my practice is if you’re creating a soundscape for a theatrical production you’re also working with sound that already exists with the space.”
For instance, The Stacks space comes with its own unique qualities. It’s a large cement room that has a different reverberation, an echo.
“Some sounds (a car, dog bark) are planted or they might just happen. What starts as a live sound might be heard again as something recorded.”
Whip smart with a ready laugh, Oslejsek never set out to be a sound designer. She was going to direct. And now, the 2025 Helen Hayes Award nominee for Outstanding Sound Design (“Astro Boy and the God of Comics” at Flying V,) says, “Sound is my bag. Sometimes it seems that I’m the only one in the room thinking about it.”
As an undergrad studying theater at Ohio Wesleyan University, she was first exposed to sound design, but it didn’t make a big impression.
In grad school at Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, University of London, she was interested in direction. But when students were offered a choice of three more specific tracks to choose from (performance, composition, and scenography, which includes sound design), Oslejsek was swayed.
“An introduction to scenography by the department head radically changed the course of my life,” she says.
What struck her most about sound was the subjectivity: “The core of my practice is that sound has no meaning until it’s experienced. All sound is noise. It’s just a pitch, active, or vocalization. It becomes real when you hear it and apply meaning to it. That’s very exciting to me.”
Today, Oslejsek and partner Caitlyn Hooper, an actor and intimacy choreographer, are based in Baltimore but work primarily in D.C.
“It feels good to be in a place where art and queerness in art are celebrated. It’s not like that everywhere, and making that kind of work down the street from this White House where that’s not the vibe, is real resistance. That feels really meaningful.”
Also important to Oslejsek (who identifies alternately as queer and lesbian) is “queer as a practice,” a concept suggesting that a queer identity or practice does not seek to replace other identities but to encompass and bridge them.
“I’m queer because I like women, but the work is more about making room for what everyone in the room hears,” she says. “Never do I want to come into a space thinking I have all the answers. That’s no fun.”
As its title might suggest, Jenny Connell Davis’ play directed by Rorschach’s Randy Baker is filled with magic. “Dragon Play,” blurs the past and present; one world bleeds into the next; and, of course, there are dragons. At 80 minutes with no intermission, the play moves in and out of different timelines; increasingly things start to overlap.
And it’s also about the magic of relationships – all kinds. There’s a line where the dragon girl asks a Texas boy what he dreams about and he replies “you, always you.”
Oslejsek, 30, is touched by those words: “In my little gay heart, I cried. It makes me think of my partner. This play is about the idea of people who strike a match in your heart that never really goes away.”
In creating a layered soundscape, she brings her own brand of magic to the production. Her big goal was “not to play with how we think a dragon might sound, but rather with how does the world sound to a dragon.”
Sometimes sound design takes the lead, but in some productions, sound is purposely subtle or secondary, she says. Either way, sound can be monumental in shaping theater.
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