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.
As I write these words, less than 24 hours have passed since Trans Day of Visibility and Cesar Chavez Day. Hopefully, I don’t need to explain why those events carry more significance this year.
Despite having left social media years ago, I occasionally have to skim public sites for work-related updates. As such, I took the opportunity to see who did or didn’t acknowledge the day. Known trans theatre folk certainly did. A few professed allies did. But the number of companies and venues to do so was depressingly low, and I can’t recall a single Cesar Chavez acknowledgement. Sure, a few great orgs like KML put up official statements that were unsubtle middle fingers to the now-DOGE-run NEA with its anti-DEI rules. (The SF Mime Troupe put out a similar critique of the NEA.) Yet, most of the channels for Bay Area theatre stayed mum or just promoted upcoming shows.
I’m not surprised. After the pro-BLM virtue-signaling of 2020, the war in Ukraine was the wave-break moment for most of these places in terms of taking a stand for, well, anything. Once Israel started its indiscriminate genocide in Gaza, most arts organizations conveniently turned away from human rights violations, like pro wrestling refs who never seem to notice the steel chair. Their current unspoken policy about Gaza seems to be “out of sight, out of mind”.
This is all the more hypocritical when it comes to Trans Day of Visibility. It’s not just the fact that SF has the world’s first official Transgender District in the Tenderloin; it’s not just that said district was the site of the infamous Compton’s Cafeteria Riot (soon to be an immersive theatre experience); it’s not even just the fact that that the Bay Area’s incredible arts scene and inescapable queer history has blessed it with an embarrassment of riches in terms of queer performers and creators.
More than all of that, it’s the fact that by ignoring a simple acknowledgement of something like Trans Day of Visibility, local artists and organizations are contributing to the White House’s aggressive trans erasure. By not speaking out in support of trans folk (or Gazans, for that matter), these so-called “free-thinking artists” are sending the message that they’re perfectly fine with the way the White House is targeting them.
By saying nothing, they’re letting the world know that they’re okay with activists suddenly vanishing, with SF Pride being at the mercy of corporate sponsors, or with trans folk being unable to travel on planes unless they agree to legally identify by their dead names. Not acknowledging Cesar Chavez Day is a tacit bow to our Nazi-saluting oligarch overlords.
Local theatre artists are fine with all this, because they think it has nothing to do with them. I’m reminded of seeing Dan Hoyle’s Takes All Kinds last year, where he re-enacts visiting a Latine-owned and operated barbershop where most of the staff are pro-Trump. One mentions being fine with Trump’s attacks on immigrants because, “I’m not an immigrant.” Incidentally, I just interviewed a local actor who tole me how a pro-Trump Latine friend of his was targeted by ICE agents, which the friend couldn’t believe.
For theatre artists—local or not—to stay silent as these atrocities happen in real time is inexcusable. I know I should be used to it, given my predictions of their backward slide on DEI, and I named this very column after their uniform willful ignorance on COVID (which’ll only get worse with H5N1 and measles). But just because I expected it doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it. I’m probably the only Black, bisexual, pro-Palestinian, COVID-safe theatre critic any of them can name; I didn’t get that way by ignoring the problems the way they do.
So, no, I’m not surprised so few local theatre companies acknowledged yesterday was Trans Day of Visibility and Cesar Chavez Day. Not surprised, just disappointed.
By the time these companies lose more audience members to illnesses, deportations, and imprisonments, what will their mission statements look like? Currently, they present themselves as bold supporters of truth, through art. “Roll over and comply” doesn’t have the same punch.
FLAMENCO ARTS INTERNATIONAL’S SONGS FROM A SINKING SHIP WORLD PREMIERE
Believe it or not, I did things in addition to pondering the failures of the Bay Area theatre establishment this weekend. I also stopped by Z Space to see, of all things, a narrative-driven flamenco show.
It shows a person how indoctrinated they are by old-guard thinking when a non-ballet (or ballet-derivative) dance form is presented as a storytelling medium. I’ll admit, even I was taken aback. Fortunately, the folks at the newly-formed Flamenco Arts International were happy to tell me how their namesake dance style lends itself rather well to narrative. Such was the drive behind their inaugural production, Songs from a Sinking Ship (whose world premiere ran from March 28-30 at Z Space).
Presented as a work-in-progress, the story (conceived by filmmaker Yvonne Zhang) is a classic seafaring adventure. We’re introduced to each character as an archetype: the young hero, “Mr. Fixit,” the amorous woman, etc. We see characters plot and scheme when they aren’t the center of focus (including two who seem to be scrutinizing a treasure map). There’s even a siren whose lovely voice results in the ship crashing.
If there’s one thing FAI has going for them with this show—aside from the great dancing and singing—it’s their commitment to verisimilitude on a shoestring budget. Before the show begins, audience members are guided into the theatre by the crew members of a yacht. The opening curtain speech is delivered as a ship-wide captain’s address.
All of this is done on Catalina Niño’s set, which looks to be nothing more than a few blocks and some semi-transparent sheets of material hanging down. Yet, those few pieces and David Chupete’s soundscape create an engrossing atmosphere that can be hypnotic. When one crew member nearly drowns, their slo-mo floating is done delicately and skillfully where otherwise, it would have run the risk of looking ridiculous. A lot of love went into this work, and it shows through every step of Carlos Ándres Menchaca, Marina Elana, and El Torombo’s choreography. Granted, there are a few moments when said choreography seems disconnected from the action (the rope-pulling scene, in particular), but it’s always fascinating to watch.
Where the show can improve is in figuring out just what its “story” really is. We’re told all the characters’ archetypes at the start, but the premise receives little follow-up. There isn’t a narrative so much a series of events that happen to a handful of people who share passage on the same vessel. Perhaps the creators wanted to break away from traditional narrative norms—but you have to replace that with a reason to care about the people we’re watching.
And you can tell they’re almost there: one finds themself captivated by the sight of these folks crashing, nearly drowning, and (I won’t spoil it) the show ending in a way that requires a great deal of combined ingenuity. Yet, we don’t really know who they are. In fact, we’re not really sure if the silver-tongued Siren is there to support them or lead them to their doom.
Given that the show is still considered a work-in-progress, one is hopeful that such character work can be refined in the next iteration. After all, the hour-and-a-half-long production succeeds in the company’s mission of proving that flamenco can tell a story just as well as any other dance form. They just need to iron out that story a bit more.
SONGS FROM A SINKING SHIP world premiere ran March 28–30. Z Space, SF. More info here.
