Arts & Entertainment
I will survive
New documentary uses archival video footage to explore early days of AIDS
Peter Staley in a scene from ‘How to Survive a Plague.’ (photo by William Lucas Walker courtesy Sundance Selects)
As a journalist, openly gay writer David France is pretty fearless. The award-winning author has tackled such topics as the AIDS crisis, sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, the coming-out of former New Jersey governor James McGreevey and the brutal murder of Private Barry Winchell.
But, when he was poised to make the leap to documentary filmmaker, there was one thing that terrified him — the soundtrack.
“That aspect of film-making was nerve-wracking,” he says. “I couldn’t sleep. I write in total silence. I don’t play any music at all. Print journalists don’t have to deal with music. There has never been any musical accompaniment to anything I have done before.”
Luckily, he found great partners to help him develop the soundtrack of his first film, the documentary “How to Survive a Plague,” which chronicles the early years of AIDS activism. He turned to the Red Hot Organization, a non-profit musical production company that raises money to support the fight against HIV/AIDS. They suggested he listen the work of Arthur Russell, an avant garde gay songwriter and performer who was living in downtown Manhattan during the time frame covered by the film who died of AIDS-related causes in 1992.
France says that the suggestion was “an inspired proposal.” Paul Heck, executive director at Red Hot, describes Russell’s work as “captivating, personal and profoundly beautiful music that is accessible yet complex all at once.” Heck introduced France to composers Stuart Bogie and Luke O’Malley who began work on the score based on Russell’s music. At first, the collaboration was a challenge for France, who says, “I didn’t have the words to talk about the music.” Luckily, he learned to trust his instincts.
“I just started talking about how it felt, and that’s how we worked out the score.”
The narrative and visual aspects of documentary filmmaking came more easily to the novice director.
“I’ve always been a long-form journalist, so I’ve always been a storyteller. I decided to undertake a major project and look at the early days of AIDS activism, to try and make sense of what happened. What more could time tell us about those early days?”
He knew the New York Public Library had an extensive collection of amateur and professional movies made by AIDS activists during that period, so he dove in.
“I immediately jumped to the footage. I got captivated by how immediate and intensely personal and up-close it was. It reminded me how we felt in those early days.”
In the end, France and his team assembled several hundred hours of footage and began editing the material into a feature-length documentary. Aside from a few filmed interviews, this remarkable and powerful film consists entirely of this archival material, primary historical documentation captured by a then-emerging technology: the video camera.
“How to Survive A Plague” uses this riveting archival material, largely shot by the activists themselves at meetings and protests around the country, to tell the story of ACT-UP (the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) and TAG (the Treatment Action Group). As Franco points out, these direct-action groups saved millions of lives by battling hatred, ignorance, complacency and apathy in the face of the emerging plague.
Ultimately they changed the way health care is delivered in this country. By demanding attention, they achieved incredible things.
“The biggest thing is why not ask for the moon? Why not ask for it all? That’s what they did. There was not a single pill and they demanded a cure. Science was not even thinking like that. As total outsiders to that process, they were able to develop an agenda that everyone felt was out of reach and they were able to get close. We don’t have a cure yet, but we’re much closer than we would have been.”
France feels this kind of broad vision is missing from the LGBT movement today.
“We’ve overly narrowed our agenda for the community. Now it’s marriage. There is so much more we could be advocating for more, including a push to combat HIV. There are still high transmission rates for men who have sex with men and the national LGBT groups are not paying attention to that.”
“How to Survive A Plague” opens Oct. 12 at Landmark Theatres in the D.C. area.
Patrons enjoyed a night out at the popular LGBTQ venue Crush Dance Bar on Friday, July 3.
(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)
Theater
‘My Favorite Sociopath’ debuts at Shepherdstown’s CATF
Gay playwright Aurin Squire’s take on D.C. journalism in the ‘90s
‘My Favorite Sociopath’
Contemporary American Theater Festival
July 10-Aug. 2
Shepherdstown, W.Va.
Catf.org
Discernment. It’s a thing some people have, explains playwright Aurin Squire, especially when you’re gay or Black in America (Squire is both).
“You instinctively know when the mob is teaming up for the best interests of the powers that be. You can feel it in the air.”
In his sharp new satire “My Favorite Sociopath,” Squire writes about life experiences but set in a different time and place: It’s the 1990s, early days of the 24-hour news cycle, and three ambitious journalism students are pursuing success in D.C.
And now, Squire’s play, along with other new works, are making their world premieres at the annual Contemporary American Theater Festival (CATF) at Shepherd University in historic, queer-friendly Shepherdstown, W.Va. (just a 90-minute drive from D.C.).
“All of my plays are queer in some way,” says Squire, 46. “This one touches on harmless and dangerous lies. The characters are on the spectrum sexually, and it’s interesting how all that falls out.”
And he’s given it a lot of thought.
“Already as a kid, it seemed to me that the rage against rap music and sex was coming from closeted people resisting their own urges and temptations. For me, it was interesting to see a witch hunt led by witches. Queer people can always call out a lie.”
Since September, Squire has also been working with a TV show about the tech industry set in Silicon Valley. He says, “It seems the general flow of the tech industry is that humanity and civilization is finished and it’s just about accumulating as many goods as possible before everything collapses. In fact, those who are profiting actually agree. But for those who disagree, they believe the solution is to build bigger gates, but activists believe we can stop this”
Yet, he’s learned from folks associated with the show. “Many say the quickest way to divorce yourself from any responsibility or regulations — smash and grab. Otherwise, you have to stop and think and regulate your desires for greed and power”
Squire possesses a penchant for pithy titles. He laughs, explaining the first thing he wrote as a student at Juilliard was “Obama-ology,” the comedy with contemporary message. While a lot of people liked the name, it didn’t necessarily vibe with the author. He concedes that he chooses names based on “easy to remember” and titles that won’t be easy to lose as a file.
Another is “Defacing Michael Jackson,” a coming-of-age dramedy set in rural Florida in 1984, specifically Squire’s native town Opa-locka, Miami, a fantastical place famed for its fanciful Moorish revival architecture.
Living in the shadow of exotic structures, he wasn’t particularly fazed. Squire says “It wasn’t until returning to visit after my freshman year at Northwestern University in Chicago that I realized how weird it was: When you grow up in a place, you take surroundings for granted no matter how over the top.”
Now based in New York (where for two happy years, 2017-2019, he shared digs with drag king Murry Hill), Squire returns frequently to Miami to be with family, but this summer has been filled with both work and travel.
Currently, he’s in Shepherdstown with CATF shaping up “My Favorite Sociopath.” Later this summer he will travel to South Africa for research, followed by a silent writing retreat in Santa Fe, N.M.
Much of Squire’s work reflects the Latino, African, Caribbean, African-American, and Jewish cultures he grew up around in South Florida.
When asked if today’s winds of anti-multiculturalism worry him, he replies, “No, because that’s going to pass. Most people don’t like, people are seeing the negative results of it, and the young people coming up despise it. White male gamers were tricked momentarily through the algorithms into voting against their own interests and they’re now seeing how it’s not working out for them.
“Conservatives always try to stop progress and eventually they always lose. It’s just a question of where we’ll be in the middle of the end of civilization before that happens. I’d like to hope we can turn the ship around before then.”
In addition to “My Favorite Sociopath,” CATF summer season features three other world premieres (Lisa D’Amour’s comedy “The Smoker,” “Refugee Rhapsody” by Yussef El Guindi, “Best Line Wins: A Play Inspired by the Improvised Lives of Elaine May & Mike Nichols” by Beth Kander) and “¡VOS!” by Christina Pumariega.
CATF runs from July 10-Aug. 2 in three venues on the Shepherd University campus: Frank Center, Marinoff Theater, and Studio 112.
Books
‘Transcendent’ a tough but important read
Laverne Cox’s memoir recounts horrific abuse as a child
‘Transcendent: A Memoir’
By Laverne Cox
c.2026, Gallery Books
$30/238 pages
OK, let’s just say it: You’re tired of lies.
They come from above, behind, from either shoulder. They’re repeated, laid out in a line, told as if they’re true but they’re not. You wish people would stop lying to you. As in the new memoir “Transcendent” by Laverne Cox, you wish you could tell the truth about yourself.
Sissy.
If the bullies in the neighborhood weren’t constantly calling Laverne Cox that name, then Cox’s mother was. “Sissy,” was just one word, though; the others were worse. The boys would say those things while they beat Cox, when they could catch her. Her mother screamed at her gentle child who didn’t like “boy” activities.
Even at eight years old, says Cox, “I was a prim and proper lady.”
Despite the verbal abuse about her perceived feminine behavior and a furtive, failed attempt at conversion therapy, Cox’s mother sent her and her brother to the Alabama School of Fine Arts, where Cox learned to dance. It was a lifeline for her, and the talent gained there helped Cox get into college in Indiana.
From there, Cox expected to find fame and fortune in New York City.
And yet, the abuse she suffered as a child held Cox back, and the words “There is something wrong with me” became a daily mantra.
“I didn’t know how to say it.” Cox says. “I’m a girl.”
There were therapy sessions to get to that point, as Cox learned the language and skills needed to speak the truth. Landing a sense of style helped, as did her brother’s support, a handful of friends, and happy, scent-infused memories of her mother’s make-up table.
At each step, Cox says, “I was expressing myself, I was also allowing myself to edge closer to my girlhood.”
Let’s start here: “Transcendent” is a difficult read – not for style, but for substance.
From her earliest memory of being sexually abused as a toddler; to verbal and physical abuse from many sources; to what, judging by photo captions, seems perhaps like forgiveness, author Laverne Cox glosses over nothing. Be ready, in other words, for pages and pages of memories that, like a roller-coaster, will make you cringe and want to hide your eyes, although doing so would be a mistake.
As this book progresses, Cox’s story does, too. We see a child who knows a truth but has no words for it. The child becomes a teen with a bursting sense of self, then a young adult who craves love as she’s stretching her wings. By the time Cox advances to writing about her career and the abuse is (mostly) over, readers will breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief. Whew, you’ve winced through a harrowing tale to reach a satisfying but not complete update.
Fans of Cox’s work will want “Transcendent,” as will anyone who’s transitioned, is thinking about it, or loves someone who has. It’s a rough read, but a necessary one, then, and that’s no lie.
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