I showed up one night too early for the show below. Not quite sure how the wires got crossed on my end, but I nevertheless wound up taking a stroll through The Castro, something I don’t get to do as often as I used to.
As it happens, the neighborhood’s namesake movie palace—which I haven’t visited since 2019—was having an anniversary screening of the San Francisco classic Mrs. Doubtfire. I haven’t seen that movie in at least 30 years. I remember thinking it was OK, and having a physically shocked reaction when I saw our very own Buster pop up on the screen. (Why the hell did they call him “Kovacs”?) I get that other kids loved it and why it’s considered a local treasure. I mean, it’s not So I Married an Axe Murderer, but it’s fine.
Yet, activist instincts being what they are, my knee-jerk reaction to seeing the title on the marquee was to roll my eyes.
It might be because the last time I went to the Castro Theatre was for a different anniversary screening: the 30th anniversary of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. I sat directly beneath the chandelier with a group of friends, most of whom had never seen it, and did my best not to recite every incendiary line from start-to-finish. (Although, when “Fight the Power” played during the opening credits, I did scream “Motherfuck him and John Wayne!” at the top of my lungs, which scared the shit out of my friends and several other bystanders. I have no regrets: That’s a call-and-response song, as far as I’m concerned.)
I honestly doubt that sort of film would find a place in The Castro’s current programming. As I look over their current calendar, I see reminders of their classic schedule with screenings of films like Hedwig and Spirited Away alongside live performances from Michelle Branch and She & Him. Sure, they plan to have Satanist country duo Twin Temple in September, but I still don’t see the appeal of those gaudy new folding chairs. Everything about it seems so damn corporate now.
Inevitably, I did remember that time marches on. It may not be the same place where one could watch John Carpenter’s Escape from New York before grabbing a slice at Escape from New York Pizza, but there’s still something to be gleaned from the thought of a packed crowd inside one of SF’s signature venues to take in a time capsule of SF entertainment all for the sake of finding joy, even for a short time.
Yes, this is another one of those “joy-as-an-act-of-rebellion” rants. I’m not going to pretend that Mrs. Doubtfire was as groundbreaking as Hedwig, or that its whitewashed portrayal of my hometown is something in which I take pride. No, I know that people like it because it had one of the most energetic comedians of his generation dressing in drag to play rival to Pierce Brosnan’s pretty Irish face. It doesn’t (always) have to work as a bold statement when it can adequately counter the phony narrative of San Francisco as Hell on Earth.
The world being what it is, I didn’t begrudge the folks that had a good time at that screening anymore than I’d begrudge New Conservatory for once again programming Hedwig into their upcoming season. There are people who truly want us sad, confused, and compliant these days. If those folks are angry at the thought of you smiling, then you’re probably smiling for all the right reasons.
“Trey” or, Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle III at Theatre Rhino
It’s my own fault I showed up on the final preview instead of opening night. Fortunately, they were able to fit me in, which is great, because if you’re looking for the opposite of corporate-sponsored gay revelry, Olivia Bratko has quite the show for you.
Multi-talent Bratko’s “Trey” or, Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle Kyle III through (August 8 at Theatre Rhino, SF) is the third of her solo shows. I haven’t seen the other two, but if she ever decides to marathon them in rep (the show is only one hour long), I’d be interested. Clad in nothing more than a black unitard as she sits on a lonesome stool in the corner of the Rhino’s tiny stage, she takes the persona of the eponymous Kyle⁷, third of their name—hence the nickname “Trey”—and unabashed in disposition. Trey has come before us today to share such seemingly random pearls of wisdom like “If you hold in a burp, it will become a fart, but if hold in a laugh, it will shoot out your dick.” The more you know.
So begins a wild, hourlong mix of torch song crooning, recycled audio clips, ponderings on Catholic guilt and gender identity, and a lot of raunchy improv. None of that should work together as well as it does, but seeing is believing. At one point, our dear Trey has two random volunteers come from the audience to hold each of her hands for what seems like an eternity, before proffering such thought experiments as “When I close my laptop, where do my e-mails go?” Then, there was a rant about pants. All of that is before a rather deep soliloquy insisting that Ecclesiastes is “the most goth book of the bible, behind Job.”
Even at just 60 or so minutes, getting lost in Bratko’s mind is as hilarious as it is sad. It’s a contradiction that welcomes and interacts with the audience, yet the character is openly resentful of their presence. It’s a show where the only character improvs an entire complicated backstory for someone in the crowd before leaving the audience stunned with a story of the road to Hell paved with good intentions. It’s the performance of a trained singer who lip-syncs because she wants the audience to sing along. It is many things, but “dull” is never one of them.
It had been a while since I attended Rhino’s cramped little black box, but I remembered not to expect much in terms of HVAC. CO² levels on my Aranet4 wound up topping 2,750ppm by the final bow. It was a near-full house and I was the only one masked.
Other than that, an hour with Trey—both the show and the character—is well worth your time. This is one of those empathetic shows that lets you know you’re not crazy, yet hilarious in a why to help you laugh to keep from crying. And it’s way too easy to cry theses days.
‘TREY’, or KYLE KYLE KYLE KYLE KYLE KYLE KYLE III runs through August 8 at Theatre Rhino, SF. Tickets and further info here.
