Number 27: June, 2002

by Carl F. Gauze

Did you know that MD 20/20 now comes in flavors? Like

Strawberry-Kiwi, Lemon Lime, and Banana Daiquiri? Now your first thought

is that no self-respecting drunk would get caught drinking anything that

frou-frou, but consider the advantages. First, it still comes in the

convenient brown paper bag, so your wino buds won’t really know unless

you pass the Dutchie. Then, it looks exactly like Xerex antifreeze, and

when you can’t get ethanol, you have to improvise, so you’ve got that

fond memory of your early hazy, crazy daze of summer. Lastly, for the

same price (mighty nice!) you now have a little more variety in your

diet, and maybe some vitamin C. And who says a rising tide doesn’t lift

all boats? <p>

Bleacher Bums

By Joe Mantegna and The Organic Theater Company

Directed by Frank Hilgenburg

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

It’s amazing how seriously people take sports. Personally, I’d rather have a root canal than attend a professional sporting event, but tonight’s cast in firmly in the other camp. Take Marvin (Harold Longway) – he’s a semi-professional bookie, and making bets with the rubes is sure-fire cash. King of the Rubes is Zig (Don Fowler) – he’ll given even money on a given batter making it to first, even thought the odds are really 1 to 3 or 4. And when his wife Rose (Laura Rohner) shows up, the pickings are even better. Then there’s a businessman, Decker (Paul Castaneda) playing hooky from work and a little smarter on the betting, but not much. Add hot babe named Melody (Julianna Mooring) who wanders into this male bonding department for reasons unknown but meets that nice blind guy Greg (Seth Dobey) while fending off the sticky geek Ritchie (Brice Chaffin). Even sadder is the real Get-A-Life type who is reduced to the name “Cheerleader” (Scott Lindauer). He’s devoted his life to baiting the outfielders on the opposing team and making them climb the ivy. I guess it all beats working.

So what actually happens on stage? Mostly, it’s a ball game, complete with fans, compressed into an hour and a half, which is mercifully shorter than a real game. Yeah, the lead changes from time to time, and there’s the mandatory exciting end, but the heart of Bleacher Bums is the interacting character studies. Each person on stage is clearly defined in terms of the others and their mutual relation to The Game. Why does a blind guy come to sit in the stands? Why is Melody even there? What happens to The Kid (Patrick Bell), who hangs out on stage till the real actors arrive and pay him to go away? Has Marvin gravitated to the 368-yard section because of the easy pickings, or does he move around as the opportunities change? Should we open all plays with the audience singing the national anthem? Funny and light hearted, Bleacher Bums is at least as good as having a real professional team in O-town without the parking hassles, and Hilgenburg isn’t going to ask us to build a new theater with better sky boxes. Heck, if all sporting events where this much fun, I might even go to one.<p> For more information, please visit

www.theatredowntown.net </a></i><p>Everything Must Go

By Tod Kimbro

Impacte Theater, Orlando Fla</b><P>

Certainly, one of a Florida writers strongest weapons is the blank absurdity of the culture we live in. For example, locally produced late night TV ads walk a fine line between annoyance and tabloid entertainment. Take Walter Everything (Peter Hurtgen), of Everything Must Go Appliance Warehouse. You’ve been to it; it’s somewhere between Zellwood and Yehaw and on all the excess Channel 18 time slots. His brain is swelling from encephalitis, but that hasn’t slowed down his advertising campaign, Why, even number 2 son Wade (Jeff Forte) get out of the slammer long enough to shoot a quickie ad before Walt kicks off. As usual, it stars the well endowed America Avery Everything (Meghan Drewett) in a skimpy nurse’s uniform, and heck, nothing sells dishwashers like cleavage. America Avery is a bit lost between her non-abusive, yet strangely alcoholic husband, her conniving mother in law Wanda (Beth Marshall) and the memory of her girlhood friend Shi (Christine Morales), who she met in Japan when daddy was a missionary. As Walters realizes imminent demise, he decides to change his will and leave the store to America and his older son, the mysterious William Everything (Scott Borish). When the will is read, the local rednecks revolt – Wanda poisons America with toxic puffer fish and William drinks deadly nightshade as recompense for his first two wives exotic deaths. The pair meets in the after life, which I guess makes it happily ever after. How did Wanda get a puffer fish? America just kept one around, that’s how. We live in central Florida, anything like that can happen.

“Everything Must Go” is the swan song of the always-innovative Impacte Theater, and projects both strength and weakness. The strengths are manifold – this is some of Kimbro’s best writing in terms of story line and characterization. Many complex elements enter into the story, and all of them have a place and function and not much is introduced that doesn’t go anywhere. The charters all seem more complex and believable than some of his early work, and this is aided by excellent performances, particularly by Marshal and Hurtgen. I hate to type cast Beth Marshall, but she is still one of the best vindictive white trash mamas on stage anywhere in the area, and Hurtgen seems to find his muse somewhere between Appliance Direct and Family Dollar Used Cars. One the weaker side, Everything never seems to reach a strong dramatic climax – things sort of roll along, with events occurring that are all motivated, but you never get to the edge of your seat, which is odd considering the Shakespearian level of death on stage. Also, Hurtgen comes out on stage and explains away a potential embarrassing relation with America, which seems forced and doesn’t make the story any cleaner. While not a comedy in any sense, “Everything Must Go” is a decent and provocative drama from one of Florida’s most promising writers. Plus, the entire set is for sale, so go early to get the good bargains. I’ve got my eye set on that painting of the scared looking guy. It speaks to me. <p>

Hedwig and The Angry Inch

Directed by Kenny Howard

Starring David Lee, Becky Fisher

Fall River Productions at Footlights Theater, Orlando, Fla.</b><p>

Destined for well-deserved obscurity – that’s the fate of so many rock and rollers. Low entry costs, minimal skills required, but the potential payoff is huge. Plus, you get all the sex and drugs and bad hotel rooms you can eat. Hedwig (Lee) has seen it all as an Internationally Ignored Pop Star, raised in that nostalgic East Berlin lost to history. As mother raised him, he sought the missing half of a personality somehow split off ages before he was born. Communist gummi bears paled next to the sweeter western ones Sgt. Luther Johnson offered, but it would take an Ossi sex change operation to get their wedding approved. When Hedwig left, he had to leave a little of himself behind and take on Kansas with only a few little centimeters manhood. That never bothered his next paramour, soon to be legendary rock star Tommy Gnosis, a boy smart enough to take the good stuff and leave behind the stump. Was Hedwig bitter? Does the Pope say grace?

But it’s only rock and roll. The story Hedwig relates, as filler between kick ass rock tunes, is funny and charming, full of double entendre that every member of the audience caught square in the eye. Hedwig’s ‘husband’ Yitzak (Fisher) gave a subtly venomous perfomance, and the back up band lead by most excellent Todd Thane Wolfe made the smoky and cramped theater feel like the sort of clubs I used to hang out in till my hearing went away. Behind the action is a screen with a perverted Power Point presentation of animations about Hedwig, some enigmatic, some acidly comedic and all moving the story along like a mime at Bike Week. Hedwig’s ambiguous sexuality resolves itself as he is absorbed by the Tommy Gnosis he always wanted to be, and Yitzak loses the burnt 5-o’cork shadow transforming into a red-skirted femme fatal. A lively and hysterical show, this Hedwig is many times better than the film version that floated around town a while ago. Stick some cigarette filters in your ears and sneak some lukewarm Budweiser’s in your cargo pants – you’ll enjoys the show more with a cheap beer buzz.<p>

The Old Settler

By John Redwood

Directed by Chris Jorie

Starring Olgia Campbell, Avis-Marie Barnes, Wiley Oscar, Trenell Mooring</b><p>

If you give a well-written script to a funny cast with precision timing, it’s hard not to be funny. Still, there’s no warning just how funny it could be as we follow the tortured relation of two sisters in WW2 Harlem. Elizabeth Borny (Campbell) took in her sister Quilly (Barnes) to keep the apartment, and now takes in another boarder, Husband Witherspoon (Oscar). Why would someone name a boy “Husband”? I can’t say. But it’s slightly better than calling him “Bucket,” which is the name of Husband’s girl Lou Bessie’s (Mooring) live in. It takes a few acts to sink into Husband’s geechee head that all Lou Bessie cares about is his money. Sink in it does, and he eventually falls for the older woman, Elizabeth. The romance is quick and wedding bells may soon toll, but eventually Quilly points out that Husband is a vigorous country boy, and Elizabeth may not be able to keep him happy. Lou Bessie brings the point home by casually seducing him so he misses the train to his own wedding. Eventually Elizabeth sees the light, unpleasant as it may be. Yes, Lizzy, you may never get to take that equipment for a spin.

Did I mention this was a comedy? All this maudlin romance is an Odd Couple backdrop for the verbal barbs exchanged on all sides. As the romance proceeds, we get a glimpse into the Harlem Highlife of the 40’s where some people don’t know there’s another 10 o’clock, one located in the morning. Quilly is firmly planted in the hen clique of the Baptist church, and rails mightily as her sister starts having actully fun. If you’re having fun but not singing gospel songs, she’s dang sure it’s a sin. The timing on stage is so infectious that the audience its able to slip it’s own comments in between the lines, and no one drops a beat. It didn’t start out as Environmental Theater, but you might see it heading that way if you can stop laughing for a minute. This is the most fun you can have in a theater, and tickets are selling fast. Get there early, this crew is not as forgiving as the airlines when it comes to releasing seats, and you don’t want to get bumped from this flight of fun.<p>

Jury: The Musical

Book, Music, and Lyrics By Donald Patrick Cupo

Starring Jeff Akers, Elizabeth Judith

Take A Chance Theater Inc.

At Cherry Street Theater, Winter Park, Fla</b><p>

Jury duty is certainly an unpromising topic for a musical, but I admit I was pleasantly surprised by this civic duty. A bunch of regular folks get the call to help decide a notorious murder case, and sing about it while they wait. While they wait, we meet them and their own personal problems, along with the juicy details of the Judge’s (Akers) relation to the Clerk of Courts Jean (Judith). It seems they had a fling before his marriage, a fling that produced a daughter Lexi (Courtney Wottring). Lexi suddenly appears, claiming an affair with the judge, and wants to tell all to the press to destroy his career. Why? Something about getting even, except the Judge doesn’t even know about her – he thought Jean had an abortion way back then. Of course, there’s reconciliation, but not until we find out most of the jurors either had unwanted pregnancies or runaway daddies. Hmmm.. A theme revels itself! You’d consider the plot involved for a regular drama, and hopelessly involved for a musical, but “Jury” overcomes these issues with great song writing and even better singing.

Jean has the best numbers, such as “The Way He Used To Be” and “Is That All You Can See?” There’s a great duet “When Fathers Are There” between Tommy (Rome Brown) and David (Zachary Ryan), and Jenny (Delaney Kahn) gets a few good licks in with “Just Another Face In The Crowd” and “She Could Have Been A Dancer” with Lexi. There were no weak voices, and this show should be a success on the strength of these good folks alone. Now, if they would just dump the silly setup about the narrator finding out he has to play the judge in the beginning of the show, and get some more varied crises in the cast, I think we may return a verdict of “Hit.”<p>

Rope
By Patrick Hamilton

Directed by M. Andrew Dalire

Starring Kevin Main, Justin Osterthaler, Walter Price

DnA Productions at Impacte! Theatre, Orlando, Fla</B><p>

When one is tired of London, one is truly tired of life. Brandon (Main) and Granillo (Osterthaler) have tired of more than just London. They find no thrill in sex or Oxford or book collecting or much of anything else, so they decide to kill their classmate Roland Kentley on a lark. Well, it’s more Brandon’s idea, but when the deed is done, they drag the body on stage and drop it in a chest. What a great time to have a few people over! Roland’s dad (Bill Gaudelli), aunt, and a few other close acquaintances drop by to bid the boys a fond farewell as they head back to Oxford. One of them, the Orson-esqe Rupert (Price), is a bit smarter then your average whiskey swilling British upper class twit, and he figures out what happened. Despite his professed amorality, and deeply held belief in the teachings on Nietzsche, Rupert does the right thing and calls the cops. Sure, Branson and Granillo will hang, or the Brit equivalent of capital punishment for capital offence, but then, didn’t they themselves just claim life was meaningless? So why not spend it in Wormwood Scrubs?<p>

Why not, indeed? This drawing room is filled with brittle conversation, unconvincingly portrayed. While set in the here and now, the young couple of Leila (Emily Nanette) and Kenneth (John Minbiole) still revert to dancing to Beethoven on shellac as Rupert heckles them for being young and attracted to each other. Outside, the plot requires a violent thunderstorm, which seems to start and stop suddenly with clockwork precision. It’s not until the last act we see any tension, as Brandon and Rupert duke it out and Granillo sobs softly in the corner. It’s good, but it’s a long hike up hill to get there.

If there is a purpose here, it’s a bit diffuse. Nothing Brandon or Granillo say begins to justify their crime, and Branson’s hubris brings him down within hours of doing the foul deed. Rupert begins to make a semi-plausible case for his jaded worldview, but he does have the spine to abandon his position and turn the boys in to the Bobbies. The other cast members are a seemingly random collection who give Brandon’s actions some context by their frivolous interests, but you never reach point where you say “Aha! THAT’s why he did it!” Ultimately, Brandon’s actions seems as meaningful as a quick defacement of an advertising poster, except they wiped out an otherwise promising life. Yes, I think he WILL enjoy life behind bars.<p>

Elba, Ohio

By Bobby Bell

Starring Paul Wegman, Rachel Hunter

Valencia Character Company

Orlando, Fla</b><p>

Wow, a whole play devoted to Swedenborgiasm! John Chapman (Wegman) drops by to visit Ava (Hunter), his long time friend and fellow traveler in the times streams of life. Each and every decision she makes affects her and all around her, and as the play weaves back and forth through past and present, we see those alternatives as they occur in Elba. Elba is a small town with only one real claim to eternal fame – back in 1925 the airship Shenandoah (Algonquin for Daughter of the Stars) went down in a violent thunderstorm. One airman’s body was never recovered; the dashing Celestino (James Gallagher), and he now joins Ava and Chapman in their endless voyage. So long as they take a bite from a sacred apple, they stay current on their cosmic rent and get life everlasting. In the far future, Ava meets herself as Rusty (Elizabeth Judith)), and while they might become good friends, they might not either. It’s a decision someone needs to make.

When one tries to make the mystical concrete, they must also make decisions. Unfortunately, none of this evening’s decisions lead to any real dramatic tension between the players, and long stretches of dialog repeated with minor variations do a good job of indicating eternity to a long-suffering audience. Wegman does an excellent job overcoming the limitations of his dialog, but Ava present a flat and rather uninteresting perfomance made worse by poor vocal projection. Celestino is dashing as he romances a willing Ava, taking her into the heavens in the remains of his wrecked airship, and Rusty is nice enough but never seems to engage the audience. The blimp hanging over the set is pretty cool, but this play needs some serious editing and considerable more tension to lift it out of the small town ennui of a city that defines itself by it’s disasters.<p>

Ghosts
By Henrik Ibsen

Directed by Nicholas Rudall

Starring Kim Crow, Rick Stanley

Mad Cow Theatre, Orlando Fla</b><p>

There’s no real trick to being Norwegian. You act like everyone else –

drink, cheat, lie, and sleep around; but just make sure you feel very

guilty afterwards and never let the servants know. That’s how Regina

Engstrand (Natalie Weiss) came into the world – Captain Alving had a

little fling, and paid off her mom to just sort of go away. She married

working class Jakob Engstrand (Christopher Lee Gibson) who raises Regina

until she’s old enough to work for Helen Alving (Crow). Jakob’s goal in

life it to open a high class Sailor’s Rest Home Of Ill Repute, maybe

with Regina as his hostess. Helene (Crow) knew what a rat bastard hubby

was, and she even left him to hide with Pastor Manders (Stanley) for a

few weeks. That went nowhere, and she returned to bear him his only son

Osvald (Stephen Middleton). Of course, by now Alving had picked up a

little gift from a distant port, which he passed on to Osvald. Being

Norsk, none of this is EVER discussed publicly, so by act two Osvald has

tertiary Syphilis and hopes to die from an OD and Pastor Manders is

condemning everyone who has ever withheld gossip from him. Manders even

goes to far as to have a little accident at the new orphanage he’s to

dedicate. If it burns to the ground he’s off the hook for that

embarrassing speech praising Alving. It’s a professional thing, you

wouldn’t understand. If the death toll isn’t Shakespearian, the tragedy

certainly is.<p>

Apart from some excessive mugging by the leading lady, this is one of

the finest cast plays I’ve seen in a long time. One can never go wrong

with Rick Stanley as an uptight minister of Martin Luther and possibly

God. Gibson hobbles around oblivious to the 2 x 4 nailed to his shoe,

and gives the best monologue of the play as he argues Pastor Manders

around in circles – concealing the truth about Regina wasn’t a sin of

omission, but an act of kindness to all parties involved. He took a fall

he didn’t have to, and even if it was for money, it did represent more

Christian charity than Manders ever produced. Osvald seem suitably arty

as a promising artist in a dry spell, and Regina is a woman done wrong

by her parents and society as a whole. When she sees what a deal she

got, she throws mortality back in everyone’s face and heads of to join

her step dad. <p>

The story reflects the social mores of an economically rising

Scandinavian society unable to admit they’re not a picture perfect as

the rosemahl knick-knacks that beautify their homes. Seafaring people

for centuries, they’d like to ignore the practical aspects of men at sea

for months and pretend all are virtuous and noble. Well, they’re not,

and adultery, venereal disease and general conniving still make the

world go around. Manders represent all of the duplicity and double

standards of the day. He berates Jakob for concealing Regina’s true

parentage and in the next breath praises Regina for lying to Osvald

about his father. Of course, these folks are still around; you can see

them on TV any day. Not all that much has changed, but at least you can

clear up Syphilis if you get to the doctor soon enough. But there’s

still no shot for hypocrisy.<p>

For more information, please vist

www.madcowtheatre.com</a> </I><p>

Sideman

By Warren Leight

Directed by Tim Muldrew

Starring Don Fowler, Sara Matthews, Mark Edward Smith

Theatre Downtown, Orlando Fla</b><P>

Today you’d call these guys “Slackers”, but before Bob Dobbs they were

just “Sidemen”. Dressed in bad polyester and dark glasses, they held no

steady jobs but were experts in Jazzenomics. That’s the study of getting

20 weeks in on a job so you can quit and get unemployment for the rest

of the year, leaving plenty of time for not really working. It’s an

endowment for the arts, specially designed for Jazz musicians like Gene

(Smith). He’s an incredibly versatile trumpet player, a man so true to

his calling he’s never danced with a woman. I have no idea how dancing

and trumpet relate, but it was his big point of honor. Back in the 50’s

a guy like that could hang on in New York, working clubs and traveling

with big band and collecting the dole, and not have it that bad. Gene

did OK, hooking up with Terry (Mathews) and living in sin until he

missed a beat and she popped out little Clifford (Fowler). It’s not like

Gene could actully afford a wife, much less a kid, but that’s life and

it did tend to break up his gang. He hung with guys like Al (John

Connon) and Ziggy (Derek Ormond) and Jonsey (Jay Becker), people who

knew the difference between an addict and a junkie (Junkies forget to

show up for gigs). Clifford got a job early – he kept Terry from killing

herself and Gene from starving to death. This is not a high paying job,

but he held it long enough to escape, leaving his past to molder like

the seats in a cheap bar. <p>

It’s sad watching something great fade away, something like Big Bands

and Cool Jazz and even sad looking middle aged Punk Rockers. But it’s

fun as well – the story is a hoot and the characters telling it have a 3

dimensional quality that far exceeds their one dimensional stage

obsession – making music better than anyone else. Fowler’s calm Clifford

keeps the whole disjoint story in a cohesive line. Terry’s abuse bounces

off him, and he’s never brought down by Gene’s general fuckupedness as

he spirals down. Convinced that TV and Las Vegas and LA are passing

entertainment fad, Gene fades as his skills pass from the center of

American culture to the ragged periphery. That era of American Jazz

superiority faded like our superiority in motor vehicles, and now its

more a passion for the specialist. You can buy this stuff on E-bay, but

you really can’t see it in it native habitat. Its just history now,

backed up by men who could proudly say, “I’m a Sideman. I can play

anything.” And they could.<p>

For more information, please vist www.theatredowntown.net <p>

The Well Of Horniness

By Holly Hughes

Directed by Greg London-Williams

Fierce Betty Theatre Company

Fred Stone Theater, Winter Park, Fla</b><p>

As Lebanese Film Noir Radio Drama goes, this is pretty cute. Georgette

(Anna DeMears) was shot while dining with her husband Rod (Heather

Leonardi) at the possibly infamous “Vixens Den.” The prime suspect is

his cousin or sister or some such shirt tale, Vicki (Rebecca Johnson).

An ex-member of the Tri-Babs sorority, she’d like to drop the mop

squeezing and get back to the muff diving, just like in her bright

shining college days. Of course, a corpse leads to cops, and hard-boiled

detective Garnet (Danielle Fernandez) starts sniffing around for the

truth, or at least a low-cal substitute. Maybe it was Babs (Erin

Muroski), Georgette’s ex, who did it. Maybe it was Al (Courtney Miller),

Rod’s buddy. Maybe not. Heck, maybe the narrator (Michelle Foytek) did

it on her way to the midnight Rocky Horror show. She was certainly

dressed for it. But while you wait to find out, there are ads for

seafood takeout and shag carpeting, New Jersey style. As they say about

Swedish films: “Symbolism! Symbolism!”

Let me warn you there is mandatory audience predication – we were all

supposed to wave and yell when anyone said “Well” on stage. Most of us

forgot after a while, but that was OK, as the cast seemed to charge

ahead with or without us. Each player had their own little cardboard box

of props and junk to get though the show, and while this wasn’t a very

formal drama, the point was to get as many lesbian jokes in as quickly

as possible. Sometimes the show had an intentionally sloppy feel to it,

with the intermission just sort of happening as nicotine deprived actors

ran outside to smoke. But overall, it was high camp, high cut undies,

and high-octane boob jobs. Gosh, maybe being Lebanese IS more fun!<p>

Stop Kiss

By Diane Son

Directed by Greg London-Williams

Starring Heather Leonardi, Danielle Fernandez

Fierce Betty Theatre Company

Fred Stone Theater, Winter Park Fla</b><p>

It takes more than a cat and a rent-controlled apartment to mark a woman

as a lesbian, so there’s nothing to suspect when Sara (Leonardi) arrives

in the Big Apple with her cat Caesar to teach in the Bronx. There’s no

room for Caesar in the apartment she lined up, but kindly Callie

(Fernandez) agrees to keep the cat, and maybe show her around a few

Vietnamese restaurants. Well, one thing leads to another and they become

a bit more than fast friends. Both have ex-boyfriends hanging around,

Sara’s Peter (Trevin Cooper) in St. Louis, and Callie’s George (David

Hardie) somewhere in the neighborhood. I think I saw his toothbrush and

some Pink Floyd CDs lying about in Callie’s apartment. One fateful

night, the girls are out bar hopping, and after last call they are

attacked and Sara is beat senseless. Will Peter drag her back to the

heartland, or will Callie learn how to take care of her and let her move

back in with her cat?<p>

“Stop Kiss” presents an interesting and sexy love story set against the

background of a strong anti-gay bashing moral. With its multiple cuts

and flash-forwards, the play can be awkward to present, but the Bettys

handle the technical aspects of the show with grace and élan. The

relation between Sara and Callie develops naturally, and despite a few

awkward moments right at the beginning, it’s a very believable situation

with both women realizing their true feeling over an extended period.

The supporting cast does a great job, and I particularly liked George

and his occasional rant and rave at Callie. He seems to take everything

in stride, and there are no hard feelings in this East Village romantic

merry-go-round. I did have a little trouble believing Fernandez and

Leonardi could actully share clothes, but I’ll give them some suspension

on that minor point. Despite a sex and morals story, this is a show for

more than the partisan crowd, plus they have nice seats for a small

company.<p>

Henrietta
By Karen Jones-Meadows

Directed by Michelle Nicole Falana

Starring Jacki Marshall, Reese Hart

Orlando Black Essential Theater

Orlando, Fla </b><p>

Henrietta (Marshall) has tenure in as an instructor at the School of

Hard Knocks, and she fights her loneliness by screaming obscenities at

people in the street. Amazingly, this strategy works and she collects

the shy but ambitious Sheleeah (Hart). Henrietta has mastered the art of

Passive Aggressive to the point of berating you for hating her and

crying for you to stay, all in the same sentence. Personally, I need

almost an entire paragraph to do that. As their two lives

intertwine, Sheleeah sees opportunity in Henrietta’s fruit salad recipe,

and Henrietta sees Sheleeah as the daughter she lost to drugs years ago,

a loss that pushed her down the slippery slope to near-homelessness.

Meanwhile, Henrietta’s landlord and only other friend Thomas (Barry

White), comes to recognize Sheleeah as competition for Henrietta’s

affection. The triangle doesn’t last long, as everyone starts shouting

at one another until a sane person can only do one thing – run away,

like Sheleeah must, leaving Henrietta to harangue the world again from a

crate on the street.<p>

When Henrietta runs out of cast members to berate, she takes on the

audience, so you might want to avoid the very front row unless you have

some NYC survival skills. She’s a handful, and it’s not clear what

fascination draws Sheleeah to her in the first place. Once that awkward

bit passes, they pair do form a deep and stable relationship that’s a joy to

watch. Thomas is a bit harder to read – when we first meet him, he seems

a slick ladies man, perhaps destined to connect with Sheleeah. Later, he

reveals himself as another damaged soul, closer to Henrietta’s loose grasp

of social niceties than to Sheleeah’s desperate but successful struggle up

from nothing. The show revolves around this odd triangle with its three

sides built of ‘like’ more than ‘love’. Henrietta and Thomas have found

a somewhat stable shelf on the rock wall of life, and cling to it, afraid

to move lest they fall into the abyss. Sheleeah just sort of climbs past them

• she’d like to help, and does for a while, but her long-term solution

lies elsewhere, and she needs forward motion to get there. The static

and the dynamic do interact, they just don’t hang together all that

long. And now you know what goes on behind those creepy guys in the blue

boxes downtown.<p>

For more information on Orlando Black Essential Theater, please visit

http://www.obet.org</I><p>