This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column (full of mad ramblings, Oxford commas, and “theatre” with an “r-e”) from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof.
One of the more frustrating aspects of the new year and old-new administration is that none of us know for sure what’s going to happen. There are things we want to happen and things we fear will happen, but if the fires currently scorching Los Angeles tell us anything, it’s that we can never be 100% prepared for every contingency.
Yet, as we plan for the worst, there’s no shame in hoping for the best. Having now firmly established in this column my disdain for New Year’s resolutions, I do, however, appreciate starting the year off on a high note— hopefully, foreshadowing the next 12 months. We’re already halfway through the first month of 2025 and I’m happy to say that in addition to protesting alongside Gay Shame, I’ve spent the past week taking in trans-friendly local entertainment.
I’m too old and experienced to be blindly cynical, but both of these experiences left me with a feeling I hope to find sustainable as the year goes on.
BroadwaySF presents Some Like it Hot: The Musical at the Orpheum Theatre
I know it’s blasphemy for an SF-born queer cineaste to admit this, but I’ve never seen the film Some Like It Hot. It’s true: Despite my love of Billy Wilder’s films (particularly Double Indemnity) and considering The Castro cinema as my personal cathedral, I’ve somehow never found time in my life to watch the “cross-dressing” classic with Marilyn Monroe. Yet, it’s so ubiquitous to American pop culture that I already know it without having seen it. I especially know of its final scene, which has gotten a mixed reaction from me as I’ve gotten older.
For its 2022 musical adaptation (through January 26 at the Orpheum Theatre, SF), openly queer book-writers Matthew López and Amber Ruffin, queer composer and co-lyricist Marc Shaiman, and queer co-lyricist Scott Wittman (yup, erry-buddy’s gay!) clearly went into the project with their eyes open regarding the original film’s outdated gender politics and head-tilting ideas about queer identity. They know that despite Wilder’s reputation as a progressive of his era, he was still a man of that era. Still, this musical’s quartet of creators of are doggedly determined to drag (no pun intended) the story kicking and screaming into the 21st century whilst keeping the Prohibition-era setting.
If you don’t already know the story, it’s about BFFs (now foster brothers) and musicians—white saxman Joe (Matt Loehr) and Black bass player Jerry (Tavis Kordell)—accidentally witnessing local mobster Spats (Devon Goffman, in the show’s most miscast role) bump someone off. Naturally, Spats doesn’t want any witnesses. Fortunately for our boys, they’re able to get their drag on and slip into the new all-ladies jazz band by Sweet Sue (Tarra Conner Jones) as they head out west on a star-making tour. Leading the band is vocalist Sugar (Leandra Ellis-Gaston), who immediately catches Joe’s eye.
With Spats on their tail, the boys keep the beats playin’ as they light up spot after spot with Sue’s band. Along the way, Joe’s pursuit of Sugar teaches him a few things about himself, as does Jerry’s ability to catch the eye of rich man Osgood (Edvard Juvier).
If I had to guess, I’d say our creator-quartet worked backwards: starting with the film’s final scene between Jerry and Osgood, then adding the other scenes to it as they saw fit. That would explain how a story about “boys dressed as girls” goes from being a punchline to a full-fledged trans coming-out story with catchy songs. Some Like It Hot: The Musical’s commitment to trans representation keeps in the classic Hollywood rapid-fire dialogue, stopping only long enough to take the trans storyline dead seriously without going cold. The particular character’s self-outing epiphany drew a huge applause from the opening night crowd, no doubt hoping to escape the incessant dreary headlines of the day.
The new script follows such recent revivals as West Side Story in adding more diversity to a time when whiteness was considered the norm, but wasn’t all-inclusive. The choice to change Sue and Jerry to Black characters is, thankfully, reflected in the script as they’re both subject to none-too-subtle racism (sans epithets). It’s almost as if the quartet were saying “We were there, too! We’ve always been here!”
Yet, they lean so heavily into it that a close examination shows what they missed. It’s hard to believe that an American mobster like Spats would have a mixed-race gang, that Sugar would achieve the mainstream success for which she longs (at one point, she’s compared to Josephine Baker, who still had to leave the US to truly be a star), or that the sweetness of Jerry-Daphne’s budding romance with Osgood could ignore the illegality of interracial relationships in Prohibition-era US, regardless of gender identity. Which leads to the other egregious omission: There’s no mention of homophobia at all. Ever. It’s as if the creators decided to pick and choose which era-appropriate biases made it into their show, despite whether it made historical sense.
In fairness, I get it. They wanted to create a queer safe space within the theatre, which they successfully accomplish through the enjoyable songs, hilarious direction, and mostly spot-on cast. The show is as entertaining as they wanted. It’s just that they clearly missed the opportunity to make some pointed commentary in favor of sticking to the old-school slapstick.
Speaking of safe spaces, The Orpheum itself continues to benefit from being a large building with ample moving and breathing space. Though not many audience members were masked opening night (several staff were), CO² levels on my Aranet4 never even hit 1,000ppm during the first act, only peaking at 1,281ppm during the final bow.
As a queer-friendly form of mainstream escapism, Some Like It Hot isn’t bad. It could have been great, but it’s content to merely show how well marginalized folks fit into all-white spaces.
SOME LIKE IT HOT runs through January 26 at the Orpheum Theater, SF. Tickets and further info here.
Chris Steele, Dragcula, and hope for the queer future
When I met with Chris Steele (she/they) a year ago, we were both prepping for our roles in Cutting Ball Theatre’s soon-to-be-final show, Short Cuts. I was a director and Chris was part of Cutting Ball’s then-new artistic collective. Months later, I saw her also take the stage for Cal Shakes’ swan song, which none of us knew at the time. In-between, I caught a few performances of the Killing My Lobster regular in their drag persona of Polly Amber Ross.
When the opportunity came to speak with Chris for her upcoming Oasis show, Dragcula (Thu/16-February 1), I leapt at the chance. Not only was it an opening to talk about Oasis and that Bram Stoker story, it was also a moment to catch up with someone who, to my pleasant surprise, gave me the opportunity to once again take an active role in the theatre community I love so much.
Naturally, our talk covered the loss of the two aforementioned theatres, as well as the danger the pending administration represents. Yet what struck me during our nearly-hour-long phone call was how sincerely optimistic they were. Not a naïve “Just wait and all will be well” platitude, but someone from a constrictively religious background grateful to have the opportunity to tell a literary classic in the wildest, most trans-happy way possible.
It stuck with me because it reminded me that what “own the libs” incels truly hate is to see us happy. They’re glad to see the world burn if it means we’ll never smile again. Us daring to smile is an act of rebellion; being sincere with that smile is an act of revelation. Finding those moments through the portrayal of a story is part of what makes theatre so unique. For Chris to take so much joy in telling a story the way he could only tell it here is yet another reason I love Bay Area theatre as much as I do.
I think that’s why the above show and interview left me feeling better off than I had all month: I’ve come into this year fully ready to fight; the above two things reminded me it’s OK to have fun, too.
DRAGCULA’s world premiere runs January 16–February 1 at Oasis, SF. Tickets and further info here.
