Theater
‘Top and Bottom’ playwright tackles bondage, kink in Rainbow production
Gay-themed comedy runs through April 29 at D.C. Arts Center
Playwright Kevin Michael West says his play ‘Top and Bottom’ has found fans beyond the target audience he initially imagined. (Photo courtesy West)
‘Top and Bottom’
Through April 29
District of Columbia Arts Center
2438 18th St., N.W.
$35
After successful runs in L.A., Provincetown and New York, out playwright Kevin Michael West’s gay comedy “Top and Bottom” has come to D.C.
Now at the LGBT-centric Rainbow Theatre Project in a full production directed by Christopher Janson and featuring actors Dmitri Gann and Ryan Townsend, the provocatively titled two-hander asks audiences to imagine an awkward nerd as a gay dominant leather top and see where that leads.
WASHINGTON BLADE: What inspired you to write “Top and Bottom”?
KEVIN MICHAEL WEST: As a playwright, I’m always on the lookout for an interesting premise that involves two people in a room trying to figure something out. It makes good theater. When I was much younger, long before I met my husband, I met a guy and went to his place. When we got there he wanted me to tie him up. I wasn’t really into it and I was really bad at it. It was really funny. As a playwright I thought I should recreate it as a play, so I wrote a more comically extreme version of the experience. But the first draft wasn’t really working. The top character didn’t really care. So maybe we should raise the stakes? He wants to be good, but wasn’t. And that’s where the play came alive.
BLADE: Was any further research involved?
WEST: I did some poking around online, and I placed an ad on Craigslist looking for gay guys into bondage and S&M. I explained it wasn’t about meeting up, and that I just wanted to talk on the phone about their interest in kink for a project I was doing. I talked to a couple of tops and bottoms. I didn’t know a lot about that world. One of the bottoms called from a Starbucks and he was talking quite openly and audibly, explaining how he liked to be spanked and tied up, utterly without any self-consciousness at all. It was very new to someone like me who grew up in repressed Catholic household, so I made it part of the character. The play goes into the psychology of the encounter. Part of the irony is that you’d expect the top to be the vocally dominant, experienced one and the bottom to be more insecure and ambivalent. But it’s actually the other way around. The bottom is the boss where he works and the top is more of corporate drone.
BLADE: I suppose I must ask. Are you a top or bottom?
WEST: That would be very boring to your readers, I’m sure.
BLADE: Well then, I’ll ask are you more screenwriter or playwright?
WEST: I’m half and half. After attending Emerson College in Boston where I got my BFA, I lived in L.A. for 10 years. There I got an MFA from the University of Southern California Film School and pursued screenwriting. But it seems it’s the plays that really get produced. Ideally, I’d like to have a David Mamet-type career where I do plays and screenplays.
BLADE: And how did you become connected with Rainbow Theatre Project?
WEST: My LGBT-themed play about DOMA (the defense of marriage act), “The DOMA Diaries,” had a successful run in the Capital Fringe Festival in the summer of 2016. That December, the production was remounted by Rainbow Theatre Project. After success of that production I submitted a couple scripts, one of which was “Top and Bottom.”
BLADE: What’s “Top and Bottom” about exactly?
WEST: In the play, a cute gay twink named Tommy responds to a personals ad and hooks up with James, an insecure, socially awkward bondage top. They meet in a hotel room to explore a role-play fantasy where Tommy will be the submissive slave and James will play the dominant leather master. James’ insecurities and inexperience makes him a hilariously inadequate bondage master. As the attempt to make their fantasy work, their initial defenses come down and they get to know each other simply as people. By the end of the play, the two strangers have formed a special bond.
BLADE: Why see “Top and Bottom” now?
WEST: For the interesting characters and the play’s broad appeal. I had assumed that it would only appeal to gay men, particularly those interested in alternative sexual themes, but the play has been embraced by many audiences, both gay and straight, kinky and vanilla, male and female. In the end, we all want to be loved for the people we are, and that’s a message with a universal resonance.
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.
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