Drama Masks: Dreamlike delivery of prim-and-proper trans history in ‘I Am My Own Wife’

This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof.

KILLING MY LOBSTER’S SKETCH ON SPEED

The resilience of KML never ceases to amaze me. Even before the recent drying-up of once-reliable arts funding (which was miniscule to begin with), KML stayed alive as fellow no-budget sketch troupes vanished before their time. (Those of us who remember Hot Mess SF—particularly in its early days—won’t soon forget that show. This I swear.) Last year was a uniquely tricky one that saw the company drastically reduce what was once monthly output. But the reason they were still around at the end of the year that claimed Cal Shakes, of all places, was because the Lobsters haven’t been afraid to experiment and adapt, when need be.

That’s the idea behind Sketch on Speed (select Saturdays every other month at Eclectic Box), their sporadically-scheduled, one-night-only show that combines the company’s trademark biting wit with “fun run” theatre-making. All scripts are written 12 hours before showtime and rehearsed a half-hour before they’re staged (scripts in hands) in front of a live audience.

It’s similar to the experiment they began with last year’s Lobster Boil show, only this time focused entirely on written sketches rather than being half improv. Oh, there’s a bit of improv this time, but Tirumari Jothi and his writers seem as gleeful as we audience members as the cast works in a “chess clock” format.

The result is 16 sketches divided amongst the six cast members. The first half featuring John Mannion, Benjamin R Garcia, and Bob Lewis doing sketches that cover the absurd (Lewis is hilarious as a “bro-grammed” Android) to the painfully relevant (a PSA about the uselessness of TurboTax was hilarious). The second half saw Jen Marte, Tony DiCorti, and Imran G. cover material ranging from a lot of audience interaction to night-defining sketch where Marte plays the aforementioned South African (whose government-wide fuck-ups become a running theme in the show).

Although some sketches land better than others (a rather kinky job interview sketch was just as short—and shocking—as it needed to be), it’s actually a testament to KML’s talent pool that the quality of the work wasn’t that far removed from their pre-planned shows (the next of which is mid-April.) Just a li’l rougher around the edges, production-wise.

Given the state of the United States satirized in the show, one would think my Aranet4 was making a point by reading peak CO² levels at 1,776ppm during the show. Certainly, we’d all like to go back and make a few more codified changes to the original texts of this stolen-land nation. ‘Til then, we have shows like this to keep us laughing through.

KILLING MY LOBSTER’S SKETCH ON SPEED runs select Saturdays every other month (the next one will be May 24). Eclectic Box, SF. Tickets and more info here.

I AM MY OWN WIFE BY OAKLAND THEATER PROJECT

It’s not hard to see why Doug Wright is so surprised by the life of German trans woman Charlotte von Mahlsdorf (both played by Left Coast Theatre regular Renee Mannequin). For all intents and purposes, von Mahlsdorf’s life should have been over long before she ever met the excitable queer playwright. She lived through an abusive upbringing, embraced her trans identity during World War II, played both sides to run a queer club in the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War, and somehow lived to tell this and other tales as a museum guide-caretaker in a pre-war house.

Yes, von Mahlsdorf’s life was unbelievable. That’s probably why Michael Moran’s OTP production of Wright’s play, I am My Own Wife (through April 6 at FLAX Art & Design) chose a dreamlike presentation. In an attempt to immerse the audience in our hostess’ stories, all audience members are issued green-glowing silent disco headphones. As with Simon McBurney’s The Encounter, the intent is to make the non-actor audio feel as if it’s literally in the audience member’s head. As with The Encounter, the effect interesting for the first few minutes, but unnecessary for immersion and distracting from the great performance from the actor in front of us. It can be hard enough to keep track when the script often jumps back-and-forth through time mid-sentence.

Granted, Michael Kelly’s audio is excellently edited and Renee Mannequin (perhaps in the first proper dramatic role in which I’ve seen her) is perfectly cast as the prim-and-proper von Mahlsdorf. But that’s why the gimmick of the audio frustrates: it thinks it’s adding to the experience when it’s really doing the opposite.

Safety-wise, the show was a mixed bag, but mostly unmasked faces populated the opening night crowd. The garage-turned-stage of FLAX saw the CO² levels go up really quickly, peaking at 2,710ppm by the final bow.

Still, when Mannequin took that final bow, it was well-earned. The tech gimmick around her was irritating, but the life she brings to this unsung historical figure is well worth the watch.

I AM MY OWN WIFE runs through April 6. FLAX Art and Design, Oakl. Tickets and more info here.

FRANKENSTEIN AT SF BALLET

Are contemporary headlines too on-the-nose to this story? Have we really fallen so far into a “post-satire” world that comparisons to Mary Shelley’s most famous text would be both blindingly obvious and a bit too painful? The situation reminds me of 2016, when superhero movies were still hot and everyone was pointing out that world leaders and business titans were supervillains made flesh.

The difference, of course, is that even the most cartoonish villain shows shades of humanity. When Shelley had her infamous contest with hubby John and pal Lord Byron, her story of “The Modern Prometheus” used as its protagonist a man haunted by the fact that nature was outside of his control. That’s leaps and bounds above the real South African oligarch who steals others’ ideas, openly embraces fascism, and believes empathy is “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization.”

Give me the haunted mad scientist over the fascist fake scientist any day.

Fortunately, SF Ballet did just that. Its 2025 remount of Frankenstein seemed all the more relevant now than when the company premiered Liam Scarlett and Lowell Liebermann’s production in 2016. The world was a lot different back then. Sure, there were worries about scientific advancement (back then, “the singularity” was everyone’s monster), but at least no one was allowing zit-faced teen bros to steal everyone’s social security numbers.

But I digress. Literary purists no doubt did, and likely will, tear their hair out over this adaptation. Lauren Strongin and Joseph Walsh’s version takes a great many liberties with the text, but it’s essentially the same classic story of the brilliant young doctor (Walsh) in love with his adopted sister (an hypnotic Frances Chung), but haunted by the premature death of his mother (Sasha Mukhamedov). Our young doctor heads to university where he clashes with faculty before deciding to stitch together and shock to life his own person (Wei Wang), ‘cause why not?

Actually, the show didn’t beg the question “Why not?” so much as “What for?” Even excusing the need for change in adaptation, there were several long tangents that go on for no good reason. Scenes were stopped cold for dance numbers that add nothing of substance. It’s one thing when it’s Victor dancing with Elizabeth, the creature dancing alone, or the creature dancing with Victor’s brother (Bode Jay Nanola), but watching a miss-the-mark comedy scene in the university exam room feels like spinning wheels.

This is a shame, because the choreo, production design, and make-up were all top-notch. As a Cliff’s Notes take on the story, it certainly got the power of the tale (even the changes to the finale have punch). But it was distracted.

Safety-wise, I wish there had been as many masks in the audience as there were masculine attendees in Victorian dresses. Still, the Opera House’s HVAC did its usual great job of keeping the airflow constant without being Artic. My Aranet4’s CO² peaked around 766ppm during the three-hour show.

As an exercise in style-over-substance, the Frankenstein ballet is a visual Gothic delight. Yet, its specific lack of substance that kept it from achieving the greatness just out of its reach. Given the story, that’s sadly appropriate.