Number 20: September, 2001

by Carl F. Gauze

Orlando’s cultural scene flourishes. While the Magic were denied the

right to unlimited taxation authority and have to settle for a measly $120

million, someone threw a $3 bone to “Arts” in this town, and we now have TWO

regular drag shows. The mayor would still prefer you park in Altamonte when

visiting downtown, but eventually she’ll leave as well. These are exciting

times, and I want to share them with you. <p>

Piano Lesson

By August Wilson

Directed by Reese Hart

Starring Leroy Flemming, Charles Lattimore Jr., Michelle Nicole Falana

Studio Garage, Orlando Fla.</b><p>

Conniving Boy Willie (Flemming) and his bumpkin buddy Lymon (Lattimore) scam a load of watermelons and a truck just barley able to make it from Sunflower County to 1936 Pittsburgh. If he peddles them to the white folks on the hill, he has almost enough money to buy old man Sutter’s farm. Sutter’s just dead now, mysteriously pushed into his well. Death by immersion is a common enough affliction in those parts, and most folks attribute them to the Ghosts of the Yellow Dog. Boy Willie can make the rest of his stake if sister Bernice (Falana) will let him sell that old piano – the one daddy carved for Sutter back when he was a slave showing the story of his life. There’s a crazy white man going around buying up stuff like that – Folk Art he calls it. Daddy might even be one of those ghosts – he got burnt in a boxcar with some hoboes when Sutter’s piano went missing. Bernice regards it as her only heirloom, and plans to keep it even if Sutter’s ghost hangs around staking his own claim. Plus the spirits won’t let Boy Willie lift it.

But we’re not here for the family story – it’s just a frame hung with a hysterical set of stereotypical black characters. There’s part time preacher Avery (Steve Jefferson), an elevator operator with a vision and a small business loan to start a church. He’s got that black Baptist preacher’s cant and makes his bald pate sweat on command. Avery’s romancing Bernice, the dedicated single mother and paragon of sanity. Her husband got shot by mistake in one of Boy Willies’s deals, and she’s left raising little Maretha (Chandreas Clincy) and keeping her hair pomaded. Uncle Wining Boy (Joseph Pinckney) drifts in when he’s short of money, talking about his recording career and selling uber-hick Lymon his first 100% silk Super Fly suit. Doaker (Benjy Westmoreland) works as a porter on the railroad and sort of hopes everyone will calm down and stop drinking his good liquor. Yeah, there’re a bit one dimensional, but it’s a very FUNNY dimension.

Between the work songs and ghost stories and scatterbrained philosophizing and a few incomprehensible dialect diatribes, “Piano Lesson” recalls the ethnic humor America devoured in the first half of the 20th century. It’s passed through the valley of the shadow of non-PC, and it’s safe to gingerly appreciate the ridiculous side of blacks getting by in the white mans world. Better yet, just laugh along, that seemed to suit the audience fine.

Electra: At The Wiener Stand

By Todd Kimbro

Directed by Joshua Horn

Starring Christine Morales, Niki Darden, Joshua Horn</b><p>

It’s Betty’s turn to be the Martyr. Not that the others aren’t pitching, but Betty Brooks (Darden) has the moral high ground – not only was she molested as a child, but now she slaves away every day selling hot dogs along the road side in the Florida heat and smoke, and is the only source of steady income to her little household. Orin James Jr. (Horn) has the role of her useless boyfriend, son of a rapist and really bad driver. Stash (Scott Borish) wants to be a stripper in a gay club, an unusual dream for a straight Jewish guy, and Raphael (Richard Anschuetz) is that rarest of birds, a gay redneck. None of these guys is even making cigarette money, so while no one really approves of Betty’s job, no one objects to the point where they go and get their OWN job. That would be so bourgeois. Turns out Orin’s got a mystery sister spawned by one of his father’s felonies, the shy feminyst Iffy Rodriguez (Morales). Unable to assert herself against even a friendly kitty, she hides behind writing and the burden of penis challengement. As Iffy discovers her half brother and his extended domestic situation, Betty’s world unravels. She’s pregnant by Raphael, hates Stash, and Orin’ s got a gun and can’t decide whom to shoot first. It’s the summer of smoke, 1999.<p>

Somehow, this story accurately grabs the spirit of Central Florida a few years ago, and it grabs the story of those lost souls with no skills, no career, and no clear desire to get either. Betty in her halter and Daisy Mae’s looks like the hot dog girls that seem to have evaporated – cute at a distance, tough in person, and not someone who’d tolerate two wiener jokes from a customer. Orin carries daddy’s psycho genes, and while he has the right to keep a gun, I wouldn’t allow him actual bullets. The high point of the show is Iffy’s tentative reading of her class writing assignment, complaining of the Oppressive Gravy of Negative Vaginal Imagery Pervading Society. It was, well, enlightening. And both Stash and Raphael seemed pretty comfortable with their sexual dislocation – straight people should be so well adjusted.<p>

As one of Kimbro’s earlier writing forays, this is still one of his best. The interaction between charters has that “you’re my friend but your screwing me somehow” attitude that underlies so many roommate situations, and the misery engendered by everyone on stage is sharp enough to be poignant and believable without seeming forced or contrived. For this reprise of a past Fringe show, there are plenty of characters for everyone to hide behind.

The Countess

By Gregory Murphy

Directed by Frank Hilgenberg

Starring Douglas Huston, Laura Harn Rohner, Michael Marinaccio, Per O’Keef

Theater Downtown, Orlando, Fla</b><p>

What’s better – Truth or Beauty? Are your decorative arts Really Meaningful, or do they just Look Nice? Did your painting capture the Essence Within, or did you just get the lighting correct? These are the weighty matters that occupied the Victorian artsy fartsy set, the sort of thing John Ruskin (Huston) makes his living debating and lecturing to the masses. He needed a beautiful wife, no mere woman but a goddess, and selected the moody and independent Effie (Rohner). Ever so often they light off for the beautifully soggy Scots highlands, getting back to her roots, getting away from the hot house of London, and doing a little al fresco sketching. Art is so much easier to produce when your damp, miserable and slightly hung over. Making misery complete, young prodigy Everett Millais (Marinaccio) tags along for 4 months in a small but musty cabin. There, he falls in love with Effie while John berates her for being , well, berateable. Oh, glorious Victorian days! Upon their return to London, Ruskin’s folks attempt to send Effie to the loony bin and she flees to the solace of her best and tallest friend, acid tongued Lady Eastlake (O’Keef.) Then it’s on to Cairo to take up residence with Millais. No divorce for Ruskin – an annulment will do. Seems that whole messy business of lust just wasn’t his cup of tea.<p>

Well, they had more a better formal education system for the upper classes in those days, and the play is full of little Oscar Wilde witticisms. The best come from O’Keef as she jousts with Ruskin’s parents John James (Bob Lipka) and Margaret (Ann Crane). O’Keef lights up the stage when ever she appears. As a leading man, it’s hard to think of anyone better than Marinaccio, with his boyish good looks and excellent eyebrow action. Rohner comes across as a very put upon woman with her steady stream of high Victorian fashion and high Victorian melancholia. The intellectually balding Ruskin appreciates melancholia in a woman, but not if he actually has to live with her.<p>

Part drawing room farce and part sexually dysfunctional love triangle, ‘Countess’ more is one of the engaging stories to cross the Theater Downtowns stage recently. A few technical glitches marred the opening night, but I think some bigger fuses will solve that problem. Now, if you can’t tell the difference between a Pre-Raphaelite, a Post-Raphaelite, or an ordinary Raphaelite, ‘Countess’ won’t help. There’s a bit of blather about the decorative arts, but that’s not the point. If you want to underrated very fine points of art history, try Google. But if you want to reinforce you position on Victorian inflexibility and hypocrisy, ‘Countess’ will enlighten.

The Boys Next Door

Written by Tom Griffen

Directed by Chris Jorie

Starring Jay Becker, Jim Brunner, Barry G White, Britt George, Steve Gieger

People’s Theater at Theater Garage, Orlando, Fla
</b><p>

Sometimes good minded people try to move some of the lunatics out of the asylum. Those who are a bit slow, a bit crazy, and a bit under wanted may find themselves in the demimonde of halfway houses, not really under constant supervision, but not really on their own. Jack Palmer (Brunner) has the unenviable job of riding herd on 17 such lost souls, 4 of who live together in this little apartment. Arnold (Becker) is obsessive / compulsive, and if someone suggest he needs 17 boxes of Wheaties, it makes perfect sense to him. Lucian (White) and Norm (George) are more retarded – friendly, but always focused on the unimportant. Barry (Geiger) believes he’s golf pro and with lessons at $1.13 each, and he’s guaranteed to raise your score.

Crazy can mean funny, and this crew IS pretty funny as long as you don’t have to actually deal with them on a day to day basis. Arnold bends himself into a pretzel physically and emotionally; Norm eats every donut in sight and tries to romance Shelia (Darby Ballard). The whole crew chases a poor hamster to its untimely death, and Lucian obsessively shout nonsense -“We got no trees! We got no trees!” Jack philosophizes about life and his ex wife while the boys burn him out, and Lucian has his benefits cut until he testifies in congress. As Lucian steps out of his character, he makes a moving speech about being trapped in a mind somewhere between that of a 5 year old and an oyster. And that sort of summarizes the story. These are people that need care and pride and an attention, but it’s not like you can actually get them far enough along to operate on their own. And unlike the ‘normals’, these are people who are essentially incapable of change. If they have an obsession today, they’ll still have that obsession in ten years. They need some care, but I couldn’t imagine spending more than a few hours with these people. I’d go crazy myself.

Dr. Piranha’s Super Sci-Fi Theater

Written and Directed by Rory Penland

Studio Garage, Orlando, Fla </b>

Ya gotta love the title. The costumes are a blast, the music and effects

(Rooney LaPlante) are great, and even a few of the skits are pretty funny.

Not all of them, mind you, but that’s the price of exploring brave new worlds

of skit comedy. Sometimes you land on the planet of large breasted women,

and sometimes the Klingons just invite you over for dinner.

We begin with an iffy “X-Men Auditions”, where the team of mutant

superheroes holds tryouts in Mobile, an area well known for mutant activity.

There’s Scooter (Darren Humphrey), who can knock over a coke can at 2 paces

with his belching, Delbert (Rory Penland) the Possum Man who sticks babies

to his outfit and plays dead really well, and Runestone (Jessica Saitta),

who, well, is in tune with the cosmos. But the real keeper of the interview

is Ecstasy (Tina Gleason), who really does have a super power – she can give

you an orgasm just by thinking at you. Now THERE’s a crime fighting skill.

“Interview of The Shoo-gar” brings a dedicated and enthusiastic Rumanian

applicant Shoo-gar (Penland) to the world of life insurance. He’s a hard

worker, owns his own feet, and will kill you if you don’t hire him.

Actuarially speaking, the funniest part of the show. Another winner was the

“All Nebula Dating Service” with a spotty and unpronounceable alien (Sidney

Dragon) revealing his inner self to the disembodied voice, enumerating

height, weight, excretory orifices, and taste in species. He got Tori

Spelling. Not a bad deal, but I don’t think all the orifices will line up.

What Sci Fi show is complete with out the Star trek parody? I think it’s a

legal requirement in some states, and “Star Drek” is the Dr. Piranha

version. You’ve got Scotty (Humphrey) going on about those worthless

dilithium crystals, Uhura (Teresa Castillo) with an attitude bitching out at

Spock (Sloan), and the whole crew mistakenly missing Kirk with that

transporter thingy and nabbing Jeanie, Batgirl, Floyd the Barber and a very

Tim Curry-sounding Thurston Howell from the other 70’s TV dimensions. It

looks cute, but never really went anywhere

There was even a bit of decent improv, but with the small audience at the

premiere of this show, the cast had to do with Shi-tang Blood Beast Poetry

about Vinyl Flooring. I’m sorry; it was the only subject that came to mind.

Doc P has the clever genesis of a show with a great cast and concept, but

needs more work on the actual funny bits. Some of the segments peter out or

just sort of stop, and some of the ideas that do work don’t expend to their

full potential. Still, it is something to see when Sak lets out.

The Baby Dance

By Jane Anderson

Directed by Dennis Enos & Beth Marshall

Starring Beth Marshal, Denis Enos, Jeffery Grant, Abrah Wilberding

Spirit Daddy Productions at Impacte! Theater

Orlando, Fla </b>

There’s a lot of similarity between buying a private-party used car and a

baby. No warranty, of course, and there may be hidden problems that don’t

show up for weeks. Negotiations can be stressful with both side thinking the

other is taking advantage, and it’s true often enough. Rachel and Richard

(Wilberding and Enos) can’t make babies on their own, and Al and Wanda

(Grant & Marshall) can’t seem to NOT make babies – a classic case of supply

and demand. Through an intermediary lawyer, the ultra-efficient Roni (Nicole

Geiler), these two couples have entered into one of those tabloid agreements

• the liberal yuppies get a nice white baby, and the trailer trash get a new

set of tires and bail money for mama. What could go wrong? Only a minor

issue of umbilical cord length and short-term oxygen deprivation.

Fortunately for the parents-to-buy, Louisiana law gives everybody five days

to make a decision after the birth. Rachel wants this baby doll, but Richard

hears a funny sound under the hood and backs away. Al and Wanda end up with

just one more mouth they can’t feed, but at least they got some new skins

for the pick-em-up truck.

Wanda and Rachel spend the interminable first act getting to know one

another. Wanda eats cold cuts and Jell-O and spends more time pregnant than

not, while Rachel drinks Perrier and avoids caffeine and cigs and thinks

Wanda should as well. Al clings to what pride he can, and Richard hold out

for the extended warranty and the floor mats. No one will be happy no

matter how things turn out.

A well-balanced cast paints this culture clash sympathetically, and the

script picks up considerably in the second act when Richard and Al come to

blows over a child neither really wants. Wanda and Rachel could have be best

friends, except for the bit about money and education and how they were

brought up. Roni will get her fee eventually, that type always does. Once

upon a time, babies appeared magically under the cabbage leaves, and now you

can pick them off the Internet. But a baby still has a soul, and only the

real parents understand this tonight. Still, I’m with Richard 100% on not

viewing the actual delivery. It’s too much like watching someone work on

your tranny.

Killer Joe

By Tracy Lett

Directed by John DiDonna

SoulFire Traveling Medicine Show

at Zoë & Company </b>

Rednecks keep the TV on all the time to cover the sound of the pit bulls

barking. And pit bulls bark loud, so they can be heard over the blare of

“Wheel of Fortune.” But even a loud out-of-tune TV can’t hide the sound of

Chris Smith (Scott Hodges), who needs a bunch of money RIGHT NOW which his

daddy Ansel (Brian Bradley) isn’t likely to have in his BVD’s. But what

daddy does have is an alcoholic ex-wife with an insurance policy made out to

slow-thinking daughter Dottie (Brook Hanemann), and nobody’s all that fond

of mama anyway. Chris knows of a gentleman who might help, a professional

and a member of Dallas County’s finest, Joe Cooper (Rus Blackwell). He takes

cash, up front, but might just negotiate an easy payment plan if Dottie were

tossed in as a retainer. When Ansel’s ex-ex expires, there’s a bit of

confusion about who actually gets the money – it’s not Dottie, but Rex, her

second husband and Ansel’s second wife Sharla’s (Babette Garber’s)

boyfriend. Yup, it’s white trash Wuthering Heights – she’s taking Ansel’s

money AND sucking Rex’s crank. Trailer life – it just doesn’t get any better

than this.

Nor does local theater. It’s crude, sexy, scary, and the funniest show

you’ll ever see that leaves half the cast naked, dead or seriously wounded

at the curtain. It’s not recommended for small children or impressionable

Mayors, but you should grab a seat behind the splatter shield before it

sells out. The casting is perfect – Brian Bradley cowers in his undies, not

exactly a comedic role, but hysterical nonetheless. Wifey Garber is the sort

of woman who greets you at the door half-nude, and can’t see the problem

when her stepson objects. In the long view, it’s a reasonable reaction –

it’s not like the preacher is going to show up at 3 a.m., and most of the

rest of Dallas county must have seen that beaver somewhere. Hodges bleeds

well when not screaming, but he covers both with the grace of a boy with

more overlapping chromosomes than generally regarded as legal, even in

Tejas. The real chemistry rises from Blackwell and Hanemann. He’s creepily

polite and bosses this loser family around like a cop pulling you over for

85 in a 40 zone, and Dottie’s happy to obey – she hasn’t had a date since 3rd

grade, but looks pretty sexy in her red party dress and nothing else. The

seduction leaves the audience breathless, and tears Dottie between loyalty

to Chris and lust for Cooper. It’s an amazing performance.

Safe behind that #4 chicken wire, the audience avoids most of the spray of

fried chicken, troll dolls, and Blatz. God – how much of that stuff can you

drink and still act without hurting yourself? Watch Bradley and find out.

And then there’s even a moral – when dealing with people who can’t buy lotto

tickets regularly, get cash in advance. Otherwise you’ll end up with a

trailer AND a woman you don’t need.

The Dining Room

By A. R. Gurney

Directed by Kevin Main

Theater Garage

Orlando Fla </b>

So many of us have dining rooms – stately, aloof, reserved for those special

guests, or perhaps crowed, messy homey areas for homework and taxes and

Cheerios. As our lives pass by the dining room remains – a still point in

the lives we lead and the homes we inhabit. Certainly, crises appear – Mom

loses her mind and wants to go home, or Dad goes off and fights for the

honor of his dishonorable brother, or the maid quits. And smaller events

happen here – the folks left the liquor cabinet is open and there might be

boys with pot, crazed architects want to move a few walls, mom’s cheating

and gets caught, but the dinning room caries on.

Our dining room is the province of the moneyed New England set, wandering in

time from the depths of the depression to today. A series of vignettes (I

think the Vignette’s come from Connecticut, but I’ll check the Social

Register later) fill the evening. In one scene, the grandchildren are

leaving the nest, and taking the nest egg with them. Wealthy Gramps (Joe L.

Smith) has the money, and grandson. Erik Wagner comes looking for a slice –

does he need a car, or does he want to go to Europe this summer, or is he

marrying? No, just boarding school. High Episcopalian, perhaps, and the

browbeating is horrible but the check is forthcoming. Then there’s the spat

between husband (Matthew Damiani) and grad student wife (Dina Pancoast)

about using the dining room table for a typing desk. It’s bad enough she’s

typing there, but using Grandma’s Irish linen placemats under the old

Underwood – unforgivable! And when given the choice between theater with her

favorite aunt and the first night of the Junior Assembly (apparently where

you select your first ex-husband), daughter (Catherine Alford) just won’t

see mother’s (Sally Daykin’s) good advice – decide what I want, not what you

want. It’s a WASP thing.

It’s not exactly a linear drama, but each segment sprouts, flowers and

resolves itself briskly. Actors take on amazing roles – everyone is a child

at some point, even a fellow I would still call ‘sir.’ There’s nothing

preachy or complex, just a solid view of the world from the furniture’s

point of view. This is the world of maids and summer homes, finger bowls and

Staffordshire, and the rich have the same problems as we do, except they

have much better furniture. I wonder what they want for the Art Nouveau oak

sideboard? It’s much nicer than that stuff they sell on PBS.