

By: CHRISTOPHER MURRAY
10/04/2007
THE RITZ
CHRISTOPHER MURRAY: How did the revival come about?
©GayCityNews 2007
A blog on psychotherapy and theatre.
Till the Break of Dawn
September 14, 2007
By Christopher Murray
Best known for his high-octane solo shows, Danny Hoch is the undisputed master of the urban male rant. Words spew out with a shotgun rapidity mixing cultural references, languages, fury, and wit in equal measure.
Till the Break of Dawn is Hoch's first attempt at a full-length play, and there are plenty of arias of angst delivered by a variety of characters that still sound suspiciously like him. Indeed, characters don't talk to each other as much as at each other, which is a shame, because they have a lot to say.
Gibran (Jaymes Jorsling), an Internet technogeek and wannabe radical, has cooked up a junket to a Havana hip-hop festival for his friends with the help of Adam (Matthew-Lee Erlbach), a smalltime record producer from Queens. Once there, they meet an ex-Black Panther in exile (Gwendolen Hardwick) who challenges their oversimplified vision of Cuba as a sociopolitical utopia.
The lion's share of the play consists of the characters lambasting each other with analyses of race and class, which may sound deadly but is mostly a heck of a lot of fun. Hoch is a born satirist, and his cast for the most part has a field day with his vivid language and passion for ideas. Hoch also directed the play, mostly admirably, with the tremendously appealing actors secure in their well-delineated characters, though they do tend to overdeliver on that well-known maxim "louder, faster, funnier."
Dominic Colon knocks one out of the park with his portrayal of Big Miff, who in his canary yellow velour sweat suit is a caricature of the already larger-than-life gangsta rapper Fat Joe. Colon never winks as he deadpans lines like "You people are depressing yo. You talk too much."
Overly loquacious they may be, but even with a portentous Sept. 11 tie-in at the end, Hoch is still one of the freshest and most exciting theatrical voices in town.
Presented by Culture Project at the Abrons Arts Center, Henry Street Settlement, 466 Grand St., NYC.Sept. 13-Oct. 21. Tue.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 2 p.m.(212) 352-3101 or (866) 811-4111 or www.theatermania.com or www.cultureproject.org Casting by Billy Hopkins, Suzanne Smith, and Kerry Barden.
Macbeth
September 13, 2007
By Christopher Murray
When stoking his intent to kill a king, Macbeth reflects that he has "only vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself." Much the same might be said of ShakespeareNYC's production of the Scottish play. Ambition is certainly not lacking in the company's stated goal of producing the bard of Avon's entire canon, but Macbeth, curse aside, is a difficult play to perform effectively, with its unrelenting progress toward ever more bloodshed and horror.
Under the direction of Beverly Bullock, James Beaman as Macbeth begins with a strong attack. His sturdy baritone speaks verse well and with good clarity, and his haunted eyes reveal depth. Unfortunately, he is unable to sustain a coherent interpretation of the role in a production weighted down with clumsy blocking, poor lighting that often keeps actors' faces in shadows, and an overemphasis on costuming and posturing at the expense of clear storytelling and illuminated conflict.
The witches' early appearance as harbingers of prophecy also forecasts the production's weaknesses, thanks to their masked faces, Halloween capes with pointed hoods, poor diction, and cascades of shrill cackles unconnected to any textual meaning. When they doff their crone's disguises and emerge as seductive beauties in party dresses, one with plastic mice running up the front, one's fears are only confirmed.
Another significant problem is Brandon Giles' set design: A false proscenium divides downstage from upstage with a series of light cloth curtains that are unable to sufficiently mask scene changes either visually or aurally.These issues and others serve to obscure the potentially interesting work of actors like Jim Jack, whose stately Banquo is every inch the professional soldier and loving father, and Susanna Harris, who even in her Disney villainess costumes strives to reveal the invidious essence and tortured inner life of Lady Macbeth.
Presented by ShakespeareNYC at the Beckett Theatre, 410 W. 42nd St., NYC.Sept 7-22. Thu., 7 p.m.; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 and 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.(212) 279-4200 or http://www.ticketcentral.com/.
Melodrama and Mayhem on Main Street?
September 13, 2007
By Christopher Murray
Women Seeking... is a 10-year-old theatre company dedicated to presenting works that showcase women artists. Its current production harkens back to the work of three early-20th-century female playwrights who broke new ground in dramatic form while crashing through gender barriers.
Journalist Susan Glaspell and playwright-producer Alice Gerstenberg both helped found innovative theatres — the Provincetown Players for the former, the Chicago Little Theatre and the Playwrights' Theatre of Chicago for the latter — while Louise Bryant may be best remembered now for Diane Keaton's portrayal of her as John Reed's lover in Warren Beatty's film Reds. Bryant was a dedicated community organizer and saw drama as a powerful way to influence events, including women's rights.
Melodrama and Mayhem on Main Street? comprises six one-acts: three by Bryant — including the world premiere of From Paris to Main Street, unearthed from the archives at Yale University — two by Gerstenberg, and one by Pulitzer winner Glaspell. All of the plays examine the transitioning role of women in the years leading up to World War II.
The evening's opener, The Game, penned by Bryant, is a discourse between personifications of life and death as they roll dice for the fates of two young people, who represent beauty and poetry. It's not really a dramatic situation but an argument. Bryant is exploring archetypes for their relevance in everyday lives. Unfortunately, it creaks a fair amount today.
But some of the other pieces still pack a punch, particularly Trifles by Glaspell, in which the residents of a small rural community try to understand a wife's murder of her husband on the couple's lonely farm. Gender perspectives are movingly demonstrated: While the men look for evidence of motive, the women reluctantly stitch together a tale of cruelty from the quotidian details left behind. The beginnings of a patchwork blanket and a jar of preserves reveal telling clues to the murder, clues that the men just don't have eyes to see.
Some of the actors are stiff and amateurish, but their devotion to the material is infectious. Hannah Ingram as a newly married Parisienne and Anna Malinoski as a society matron's long-suffering daughter stand out.
Presented by Women Seeking…at the Kraine Theatre, 85 E. Fourth St., NYC.Sept. 5-29. Tue. and Wed., 7:30 pm; Mon. and Sat., 3 p.m.(212) 868-4444 or www.smarttix.com.
Shame-Based, Shame-Based, Shame-Based
By: CHRISTOPHER MURRAY
08/30/2007
This news cycle's public flaying of Republican Senator Larry Craig for soliciting "lewd conduct" in a Minneapolis airport restroom gave me no pleasure. I like to think of myself as first in line for a big helping of schadenfreude, especially at the seemingly endless parade of fundamentalist conservative hypocrites getting what's coming to 'em, but it just isn't so.
Seeing the related piece on CNN this week about "The Secret World of Gay Men's Hookups" and the descriptions of "creepy," "disgusting," and "dirty" public homosexual male sex was embarrassing and completely uncomfortable for me. All that horrible detail about secret foot-tapping signals under bathroom stalls. Ugh. Note to the senator - foot tapping is so old school, get your fine self on craigslist, gurl!
But in all seriousness, I loathe having our community's dirty laundry aired in public. I hated all the "gay men in three-day crystal meth-fueled fisting parties" newspaper stories. I hated all the "bug chaser seeks load after load of HIV-infected semen" magazine articles. I hated all the "black men on the down low are giving our women AIDS" episodes on daytime television talk shows.
Seeing and hearing all these exposes triggers all my internalized homophobia since I am completely and utterly shame-based. I was one of those kids you could point at in the lunchroom and say "Red!" and within 30 seconds my whole face would light up in Technicolor scarlet. I lived in fear that someone would discover the colored bikini underwear I stole from my mother's best friend's sexy boyfriend with the '70s moustache. And now I still have my secret shames.
We homos take such pains to separate ourselves so definitively from the Reverend Haggards, Congressman Foleys, and Senator Craigs of the world, don't we? But the truth is that almost everyone lives some kind of double life. We walk around pretending we aren't going to go home and jerk off to some sleazy Internet site or that we don't want to get jiggy with the greasy building superintendent.
Well, you are as sick as your secrets, the saying goes, and as Justice Louis Brandeis once said, "Sunlight is the best disinfectant." So, here goes. Mom, close your eyes. I've had sex in public restrooms and parks, thought it was hot AND been concerned about my sexual compulsivity. I've had awesome sexual experiences on meth AND gotten freaked out by the destructive force of that drug. I've flirted with unprotected sex, been totally aroused by barebacking AND felt tremendous anxiety about our community norms around it.
Whew! I feel better, don't you? Admit it.
Of course, I'm an out gay man, not a closeted hypocrite who voted for the Defense of Marriage Act. But I'm not sure that distinction really means too much to me emotionally. I know there is a difference between Senator Craig and me - I'm not deceiving a spouse nor voting on far-reaching national legislation, but still, I'm hardwired to crumple at my own or any one else's public pie in the face, even if they deserved it.
Guess what, maybe it's about coming out even more, even for all us out loud and proud types reading this newspaper.
By the way, I think that hair-trigger shame is partially where gay men's extraordinary emotional intelligence comes from. The empathy that fuels our artistic sensitivity or the supportive insight we are known for emanates from the inner knowledge that develops long before we ever suck a dick that we are somehow, innately wrong.
Some of us are able to overcome the paralyzing force of that shame to lead productive and loving lives. But make no mistake, as mainstreamed as MTV and CNN and USA Today and often we ourselves insist we are, gay men - and for that matter, all sexual minorities, our lesbian, bi, and trans sisters and brothers included - still pay a heavy price. We struggle mightily with direct outcomes of that shame - in our difficulty managing intimate relationships, and also in patently self-destructive acts like substance abuse, over-eating, and unsafe and otherwise dangerous sex.
So, stagnant, self-hating, denialist Senator Craig, my erstwhile fellow traveler, take a page out of the book of your much maligned compatriot Jim McGreevey and come out, come out, wherever you are. I won't say the water's just fine - it runs hot and cold - but it's fresh and it's pure and it's cleansing. See you in the steam room.
©GayCityNews 2007