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.
By now, you’ve no doubt heard that the irreplaceable Dolly Parton has left us. The woman we’ve always regarded as a living legend is now simply a legend. That almost makes it sound like an upgrade.
There was always a wonderful theatricality to Dolly’s public persona. The wigs were high, the suits were frilly, the bust seemed to stretch across the room. Her iconic voice was a high-pitched nasal whine that could cut glass as easily as it melted hearts. She famously adopted her aesthetic from a woman her parents referred to as “the town tramp.” They said it with disdain, but young Dolly was enraptured by this woman’s exaggerated and unapologetic femininity. She had to make it her own.
Once she did, she paired her outsized appearance with a razor-sharp wit. (When the CMAs gave her the Willie Nelson Award, she accepted by calling the honor an “absolute high.”) She had a self-deprecating sense of humor, often subverting the usual “dumb blonde” jokes by telling them before any of her would-be detractors could. Or if they did, she still did it better by adding personal insight that could turn the criticism back on the detractor. She loved to make fun of herself, but she made it crystal clear she was always in on the joke.
If all that sounds familiar, it’s basically the m.o. of every drag queen ever. It’s no wonder that Dolly was so easily embraced by the LGBTQ+ community. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she openly embraced us right back. There’s almost something poetic about the fact that I saw my first-ever SF Gay Men’s Chorus show in June, and that the show was full-length tribute to the girl from Tennessee.
Yet, the important thing to remember about Parton’s stage persona is that it was just that. As emotionally open as she was in her music (just listen to “Coat of Many Colors” to see why she was one of the greatest songwriters ever), she was notoriously guarded about her private life. When her husband Carl Dean died last year, many couldn’t even tell you what the man looked like. Her 9-to-5 co-stars Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda often joked that people would be surprised to learn how many tattoos the singer had.
And, despite her “love everyone” photo-ops, her explicit political leanings were always a well-guarded secret. She never openly endorsed a candidate or shared whether she’d registered with any party. She turned down Presidential Medal of Freedom honors from both Trump and Biden. As much as she openly supported LGBTQ+ causes, she never openly condemned legislation or candidates that led us to, well, where we are today. One of the few times she’s every made an overtly political statement was in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder: “[O]f course Black lives matter. Do we think our little* white asses are the only ones that matter? No!”
*(And I’m still convinced she, a country gal, said “lily-white,” but the reporter just misquoted her.)
That’s brief statement great to hear, but as an activist, it’s hard to ignore a multi-decade silence when her voice could have made a world of difference.
Nevertheless, that secrecy was something to aspire to in this age of oversharing. Dolly was famous from the era of fan magazines all the way through the Tiktok era. That she did so without selling her personal life to the highest bidder is nothing to be ashamed of. And there’s a great comfort in how she told the world that each and every person deserves a seat at the table, and at one of her shows.
And in case you’re curious, Halos & Horns is my go-to Dolly album. “I’m Gone” is hilarious, and her cover of “Stairway to Heaven” is the definitive version, in my opinion.
D’Arcy Drollinger’s Disastrous! at Oasis
I move now from one larger-than-life blonde to another. D’Arcy Drollinger was on KRON-4 earlier today sharing what an influence Dolly Parton had been on her. Oasis did a dance party tribute to the country icon three years ago, but I don’t think she ever stopped by the club? If she had, I imagine it would’ve played out like that time Adele snuck into her own lookalike contest. Still, I doubt anyone will argue that personality like Parton’s may be the second-most benevolent spirit to fly above Oasis (the first being Heklina’s).
In any case, now that D’Arcy’s pulled off the miracle of resurrecting her venue, she can now get down to the business of once again using it to stage her outrageous stage shows. The first such show, Disastrous! (through September 12) certainly starts the new era off with a bang. Or 20.
The show is the latest installment in Drollinger’s Shit & Champagne saga for stage and screen, in which she once again steps into the sharp shoes of “exotic dancer and divorcee Champagne Horowitz Jones Dickerson White.” In the first-of-many-nods to ‘70s disaster flicks, our heroine hops a plane to Acapulco for some much-needed R&R, when she accidently comes across an attaché case with microfilm, a key, and a bag of white powder. As is expected, the plane goes down—as do some of the passengers. She next finds herself on a deserted island trying to escape the amorous advances of the various wildlife therein. If that isn’t enough, there’s also the inevitable Bond villain, Cafetan (Matthew Martin), who hopes to end Champagne’s life, because reasons.
One thing a newbie has to know about D’Arcy’s shows is that they’re the result of juvenile storytelling with a budget. Anyone coming in expecting straightforward pathos may be shocked to find themselves watching a bunch of grown-up kids making the sort of story a teen would make if they could legally drink. I mention this because some of the opening-night attendees came off very reserved for a show and venue where heckling the performers is part of the admission price. This is a ‘70s drive-in pastiche where every third sentence is a dick joke. If you’re expecting Waiting for Godot, you’re in the wrong spot.
I don’t recall seeing any other masked audience members. CO² levels on my Aranet4 topped 2,526ppm by the final bow. Disastrous! can be uneven in its determination to cram every single ‘70s flick into a single stage show. Still, when it maintains its focus, it makes for a wickedly hilarious night out, and a comfortable reminder of what Oasis gets up to when no one’s watching.
D’ARCY DROLLINGER’S DISASTROUS! runs through September 12 at Oasis, SF. Tickets and further info here.
