Drama Masks: Still searching for those signs of intelligent life…

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.

And another one is gone. 

Just last week, I was talking about the latest Oasis show. Next thing I know, my Inbox get a press release saying that it plans to close at the end of the year, turning Monday night’s Heklina Tribute show into an early wake for the club she and D’Arcy Drollinger opened in 2014.

Yeah, this sucks. Trans performer showcase AsiaSF closed last year, now queer performance venue Oasis is the latest in a long-line of local institutions that are vanishing before our eyes. A culture defines itself by its art, its elders, and the youth who keep or reject tradition. Too much of SF’s legacy is subject to a dollar amount, which does everyone a disservice. If our distinguished Mayor Blue Jeans wonders why we heckled him away from the Trans March en masse, this should tell you why. A city with this many billionaire residents shouldn’t have any trouble sheltering the homeless or funding the arts, no matter what spray-tanned fascist is in the White House.

But this is not the end. As an artist who’s witnessed quite a beloved venues and companies dissipate (especially over the last decade), I’m all the more excited when I see what carries on their legacy. As my friend Chris Steele (aka Polly Amber Ross) likes to tell me: Doing drag has always been a political act, and is now even moreso. That’s why hearing about indie acts like ItsQwere, Rebel Kings, and Oaklash show that super-queer-centric performers are still abundant in the Bay Area. Hell, I spoke to dancer and T*Shack/Mother veteran Crickett Bardot after the Tribute Show (attended by her 21-year-old daughter, whom Heklina babysat) and she was enthusiastic about the drag shows at Powerhouse and The Stud.

Yes, this is a crushing blow, but it isn’t the end of the fight. My personal wish is for some scrappy young artists to pool resources and “evolve” the Oasis space into something that pays tribute while moving it forward. That’s what we got with Stage Werx becoming Eclectic Box and with the Cutting Ball stage becoming the EXIT-resurrecting Taylor St. Theatre. There are a billion great things that can be done with that space and no shortage of people willing to support it. My hope is that the same spirit that founded Oasis winds up inheriting it before it’s torn down to become robo-taxi lot or something.

‘Til then, we’ve got ‘til December 31 to send Oasis out in style.

THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE AT AURORA THEATRE

There’s a lot to be said about The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe (through August 10 at Aurora Theatre, Berkeley). In fact, there’s a lot to be said in The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe. The eccentric homeless woman written by Jane Wagner is, at the risk of understatement, loquacious. She has no shortage of opinions on our wicked world. What’s more, she can recite by heart the curious observations of the extra-terrestrials whom she says come to her for advice. She has a lot to say, but acts as if she has precious little time to say it. No wonder SF’s own one-woman virtuoso Marga Gomez occasionally appeared out of breath in repeating Wagner’s long-winded text on opening night.

The beloved local comic is the perfect person to inherit the proverbial shoes once filled by Lily Tomlin, who originated the play in 1985. For those annoyed that Gomez doesn’t have Tomlin’s sharp annunciation of every syllable, there’s a good reason for that: She’s not Lily Tomlin.

Gomez has spent the last couple decades defining herself and her material in her own unique way, usually seen at one of the two Marsh theatres. Her take on the material, as directed by Jennifer King, is no less valid than that of the star of Big Business. If anything, the fact that the central character takes on the personae of several different people speaks to how malleable the role can be in the right hands: How do you juggle so many characters and still keep track? How do you recreate their biases without judgement? How to you make sure the audience still cares?

Gomez and King do their best with the first and third points, while the second falls to Wagner. It’s clear her protagonist has mental health issues, but there’s an uncomfortable hint of snide in the text that performer and director can only circumvent so much.

The opening night audience was at about 60% capacity. I note this first because only about nine of us were masked during the two-act show, with CO² levels on my Aranet4 peaking around 1,810ppm. (Masks are required for Wednesday evening and Sunday matinee performances. On-Demand streaming starts. August 5.) Also because of the one thing AD Josh Costello didn’t mention during his curtain speech: Aurora hasn’t announced a new season yet. Given that so many other theatres have, one wonders if the much-embattled theatre company will soon be making an announcement similar to that of Oasis.

Whatever the future holds for the company and whatever flaws remain in the text (the infamous abridged feminist history passage remains intact), the show is another solo tour-de-force with Marga Gomez, even if this one wasn’t written by her. Should this turn out to be Aurora’s swan song, they picked a great talent to take the final bow.

THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF IN THE UNIVERSE runs through August 10 at Aurora Theatre, Berkeley. Tickets and further info here.

MAGNOLIA BALLET AT SHOTGUN

Terry Guest’s Magnolia Ballet (through August 10 at the Ashby Stage, Berkeley) is another one of those frustrating shows in that it gets so much right, but what it gets wrong possibly derails the entire thing. For 90+ minutes, the show is a flawed-but-sincere portrayal of Black toxic masculinity and inherited trauma. Its sometimes dodgy dialogue and self-amusing jokes are forgiven through the mere onstage presence of scenes that ring painfully.

Then comes the finale. Guest did not write a happy story. You can tell that he knows that by the way each scene unfolds with an element of dread. Yet, Guest tacks on a somewhat happy ending as if trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. I say “somewhat happy” because the ending still portrays a great loss for the characters, but the outcome for two particular characters isn’t just optimistic, it’s saccharine. It doesn’t work at all.

This is a show where Z (Jaiden Griffen), the closeted Georgia teen who narrates most of the story, begins by bluntly stating “My father isn’t affectionate… because his father wasn’t affectionate. It was unsafe to be affectionate.” It’s a true-to-life confession that can be seen in centuries of Black homophobia and self-hate.

The father in question (Drew Watkins) considers “disciplining” his son akin to a boxer sizing up an opponent; every word is a threat. He feels that it’s the only way the boy can survive in a world unkind to Black men. Incidentally, Z finds kindness in, of all places, the arms of white classmate Danny (Nicholas René Rodriguez), the descendant of Confederates and Klan members.

These are not characters headed for a happy ending. That the text forces it on them is a crime, but director Aejay Antonis Marquis, his cast, and his amazing designers do what they can. It isn’t their fault they’re working with a script that deflates its own energy in its final minutes.

While we’re on the subject of air: CO² levels peaked around 2,141ppm during the intermission-free show, with few of us masked. The only masked matinee will be August 3, with On-Demand replay starting August 23.

There is so much about Magnolia Ballet that speaks to the core of Black male insecurity with the honesty it requires. Then, its closing scene tries to wipe all away in one swift stroke. If it were that easy to get rid of, we wouldn’t still be fighting it.

MAGNOLIA BALLET runs through August 10 at the Ashby Stage, Berkeley. Tickets and further info here.