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From original Playbill program; courtesy of PlaybillVault.com

Richard Seff; photo courtesy of artist

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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"Mr. Gaga" (2015). Dir: Tomar Heymann

Frank Romero, ¡Méjico, Mexico!, 1984 | Courtesy of Cheech Marin

Frank Romero, The Closing of Whittier Blvd., 1984. Oil on canvas | Courtesy of Cástulo de la Rocha and Zoila D. Escobar

Frank Romero, History of the Chicano Movimiento , 1984. Acrylic & graphite on canvas | Courtesy of Carnegie Art Museum, Oxnard

Left: Homage to Kienholz, Back Seat Dodge, 1991. Oil on canvas | Courtesy of Cheech Marin
Right: Freeway Wars, 1987. Oil on canvas | Courtesy of LACMA

Installation view, "Dreamland: a Frank Romero Retrospective" at the Latin American Museum of Art, Long Beach

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“It’s hard to hate up close.”  ― Dr. Oz

I have spent the last several months immersed in a documentary for National Geographic called “Gender Revolution.” The entire process was life-changing and mind-altering for me and hopefully for others who watch. The impetus for making the film was simple: I screwed up.  

When I hosted a daytime talk show (”Katie” ― how original!) I did an interview with Carmen Carrera, a trans fashion model. And yes, I asked her a highly offensive question about her “private parts.” When the show was being edited to air on a later date, I asked the producers to keep the offensive question in so others could realize, with the help of another guest on that same show ― Laverne Cox ― how grossly insensitive it was. My efforts to provide a “teachable moment” for my audience failed miserably, and the backlash on social media was loud and harsh. Clearly, I had a lot to learn. 

I have come a long way since I asked Carmen that intrusive, 'cringeworthy' question.

Some people might have thought I was crazy to go there again. But the more I saw gender issues becoming increasingly front and center in the news, the more I realized there was so much I didn’t understand. And I wanted to. One of the many reasons I chose to pursue a career in journalism is because I like to take complex topics and deconstruct them, in hopes that they can be better understood. It may seem like a no-brainer, but knowledge can be incredibly powerful and empowering. And in a media landscape that employs sound bites and tweets to inform us on a whole array of topics, I thought it was important to take a deep dive. 

Needless to say, I learned a lot. That gender is not as black and white, or pink and blue, as I once believed. That scientists are just beginning to understand the biological factors that contribute to gender identity. That sexual orientation is a completely different ball of wax. That there’s a huge generational gap in the way millennials and baby-boomers view gender. That societal expectations vary from culture to culture, and full acceptance of those who live beyond the binary exists in places like Samoa. I learned why asking someone about their former self (dead-naming) can be so painful to those able to finally embrace their true selves. That “woodworking” wasn’t something done in my brother Johnny’s shop class, but the only way a trans person like Renee Richards could survive when she underwent gender confirmation surgery in the 1970s. 

I didn’t get everything right. When I saw Gavin Grimm, whose case is scheduled to go before the Supreme Court on March 28th, he told me he liked the film, but added, “I wish you hadn’t said I was born a girl.” The person I was before making this film might have said, “Don’t be ridiculous!” The person I have become understands how hurtful such a description can be.

I used to feel that the LGBTQ community could do more to help the rest of us understand. I often wondered, why can’t they be more patient as we grapple with this new normal? (Whatever normal means.) I even asked Gavin about this when I visited him at his home in Gloucester, Virginia. Preternaturally mature for 17, he told me in essence, it wasn’t his job to teach the world why he is the way he is. It made me realize what a burden it would be for me to have to explain myself to everyone I meet. No, thank you. 

I have come a long way since I asked Carmen that intrusive, “cringeworthy” question. In fact, after the DC screening of the film, I told Sarah McBride of the Human Rights Campaign and the first trans speaker to address a national political convention, that I was at times embarrassed by my naiveté and cluelessness during the film. She assured me that witnessing someone’s evolution is very helpful in promoting social change.   

I’m still learning. But I’m grateful to everyone I met met along the way. They were brave and generous, and greeted my curiosity ― and at times, ignorance ― with kindness and yes, patience.  Up close, they were just people who I’m now proud to call friends. No other qualifier necessary.  

―-

“Gender Revolution: A Journey with Katie Couric” is currently available for free on YouTube, Facebook and National Geographic through February 21.

Educators and organizations can also sign up for a free DVD and discussion guide here.

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Long before Anthony Bourdain and a host of celebrity chefs made the pursuit of exotic foods an armchair adventure, American tourists had a strange reputation. Whether they were traveling in France, Japan, or other countries known for their culinary arts, many gravitated to their safety zone: McDonalds.

With the open-mindedness of the Obama administration gone from the White House, the rampant xenophobia exhibited by insecure, power-hungry white nationalists has resulted in a bungled refugee ban, threats to eliminate the National Endowment for the Arts and National Endowment for the Humanities (as well as privatizing the Corporation for Public Broadcasting), and a new wave of anti-intellectualism.

The confirmation of Betsy DeVos as Secretary of Education tested millions of gag reflexes across the nation. From satirical articles like Grizzly Attacks School of Salmon ― Dozens Dead and Betsy DeVos Tosses $10 Million Into Capitol Reflecting Pool For Luck to Michelle Olson’s A Thank You Letter to Betsy DeVos From a Public School Teacher, people have not held back in venting their opposition to Trump blatantly rewarding rich and incompetent political hacks with jobs for which they are supremely unqualified.

The impact of Trump’s refugee ban is being felt throughout the arts community, with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival having to process canceled ticket orders from groups of Canadian students who make annual treks to its theatres in Ashland, Oregon. Many international artists may end up canceling appearances in American cities because of the risks to themselves, their support staff, and their musicians.

Inspired by The Ghostlight Project, on January 19th, 2017 at 5:30 p.m. in each time zone across the United States, people gathered outside theaters to create a “light” for the dark times ahead and “to make or renew a pledge to stand for and protect the values of inclusion, participation, and compassion for everyone regardless of race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, (dis)ability, age, gender identity, or sexual orientation.” Two weeks later, the leaders of multiple nonprofit theaters in the San Francisco Bay area released the following statement:

We, the artistic and managing directors of Bay Area theaters, feel we must speak out against the executive order that would deny the freedom and safety that we know as Americans. This new generation of immigrants deserves the protection and opportunity that America has always provided. Our great American theaters would be far poorer without the authors, playwrights, actors, directors, technical staff, administrators, and audiences who come to us from all over the world, enriching our lives and the lives of those who experience our work. Theater has always provided a bridge between cultures. There is no theater without empathy and compassion ― that is the very nature of what we do. We call on our government to show the compassion and generosity that have done so much to make the United States a haven for the oppressed and a beacon of freedom. We take our responsibility as global citizens extremely seriously and urge the President and his administration to rescind the executive order and reestablish an open exchange between artists and audiences from all over the world.

It’s gotten so bad that Bill Maher could no longer restrain himself from venting about the tsunami of stupidity and insensitivity sweeping the nation.

Ironically, trying to put a damper on the arts only makes artists more determined to use their creativity to fight against ignorance. The 2017 CAAMFest features a screening of a poignant full-length animation feature entitled Window Horses: The Poetic Persian Epiphany of Rosie Ming. The promotional material describes the film’s story as follows:

Rosie Ming, a young Canadian poet, is invited to perform at a poetry festival in Shiraz, Iran. She lives at home with her over-protective Chinese grandparents and has never been anywhere by herself. Once in Iran, she finds herself in the company of poets and Persians, all who tell her stories that force her to confront her past: the Iranian father she assumed abandoned her and the nature of poetry itself. It’s about building bridges between cultural and generational divides. It’s about being curious. Staying open. And finding your own voice through the magic of poetry. Rosie goes on an unwitting journey of forgiveness, reconciliation, and perhaps above all, understanding, through learning about her father’s past, her own cultural identity, and her responsibility to it. This is a film filled with poetry and stories. While the narrative of the film is presented in one particular style, the poems and histories will be created by different artists, to both accentuate and blend the myriad of differences in cultures, philosophies, time frames and poetry. It is a film about identity and the imagination. This film is our small effort to try and add a little more peace, love, and understanding to our increasingly complex and conflicted world through art, poetry, history, and culture.

If timing is everything, then the world premiere of A Thousand Splendid Suns received a blessing in disguise from the Trump administration. Based on the 2007 best-selling novel by Khaled Hosseini and adapted by Ursula Rani Sarma, the play puts faces on people whose lives have been torn apart in Afghanistan and focuses on the plight of women and girls in a severely repressive culture.

This co-production between American Conservatory Theater and Theatre Calgary has been spearheaded and directed by Carey Perloff, with handsome sets designed by Ken Macdonald, costumes by Linda Cho, and lighting by Robert Wierzel. Unlike many dramas, which might rely on a local dramaturg, the creative team also includes cultural consultant Humaira Ghilzai, who explains that:

The main role of a cultural consultant is to bring cultural literacy to a project in order to create an authentic portrayal of Afghan people, their customs, and their languages. I work closely with the playwright, director, costume designer, set designer, props team, marketing team, voice coach, and actors to achieve authenticity in every aspect of the production. You might say a headscarf is just a headscarf, but I’m here to tell you there’s much more to it.

Hosseini's epic novel focuses on multiple generations of Afghan women struggling to survive in modern-day Kabul.

• After a mortar shell destroys her home, Laila (Nadine Malouf), finds herself unmarried and pregnant. With her Tajik parents dead and their residence destroyed, she is forced to marry her older neighbor, Rasheed (Haysam Kadri), in order to survive.

• As she recovers from her wounds, Laila bonds with Rasheed's first wife, Mariam (Kate Rigg), a Pashtun woman born out of wedlock who has suffered several miscarriages and long years of domestic abuse by her husband.

• After Laila gives birth to a baby girl which she names Azizah (Nikita Tewani), her daughter's thirst for learning is threatened when the Taliban seizes control of Kabul. When Laila goes into labor with her second child, a boy who will be named Zalmai (Neel Noronha), an emergency Caesarean section is performed by a female doctor (Denmo Ibrahim) who refuses to wear a burqa while performing surgery.

• Throughout their adult lives, Laila and Mariam are haunted by memories of their mothers, Fariba and Nana (both played by Denmo Ibrahim), who tried to warn them about the evils of men.

Because of its status as a melting pot whose inhabitants celebrate diversity, Bay area audiences may be more open to stories from exotic cultures. Many other Americans, however, might be shocked by the misogyny and brutality directed at women by the men portrayed in A Thousand Splendid Suns. As Perloff explains:

"War has a way of creating strange bedfellows. When Laila and Mariam are thrust together in Rasheed’s house, it is impossible to predict that, over the years, the women will save each other again and again from the depredations of a violent husband and an even more violent culture. Their journey seemed ripe for theatricalization."

As the play begins, the audience is captivated by the sight of people being dragged across the stage while seated on large pieces of fabric. One of them is David Coulter, who wrote the music for A Thousand Splendid Suns and is first seen playing a musical saw.

I own maybe a dozen different saws (including a gold-plated and rhinestone-encrusted one made in 1921). For a carpenter’s hand tool, a saw is capable of producing a vast and wide array of sonic possibilities. When played well, it is capable of indescribable beauty. It contains passion and tenderness. The opposite extremes are also possible: it can be used to create horrific and excruciatingly ugly sounds. All my saws are essentially produced with the intention of being used musically. I often play readymades (regular woodworking saws as found in a store). But for precision and the concert stage and recording studio, I nearly always use a saw made by a company called Mussehl and Westphal based in East Troy, Wisconsin.

“As a sound artist, I try to create sound meditation. A musical exploration of resonance. Playing with time. A creation of space. An exploration of emotions to create vivid images," Coulter explains. "For A Thousand Splendid Suns, I wanted to create sonic backdrops as the concrete thing that will be there every time, but to allow and factor in a methodology whereby I can still keep myself fresh by playing variations of themes and phrases. I will obviously be playing saw, but also bells, octave violin, drums, various jaw harps, thumb pianos, pitch pipes, some new metal and water percussion instruments, old rusty springs, etc. There are also little bits of flute and saxophone, played by Ralph Carney, that will be creeping in here and there. It is obviously crucial to have concrete and sometimes countable elements in the score for precise cueing of lighting and scene changes as well as for actors who will be expecting a sonic familiarity to each performance.”

How does Coulter balance his technique with the cultural demands of the play? “I have listened to a huge amount of Afghan music and have closely researched the sounds of the country, but I have made a very conscious decision not to replicate or imitate what I have heard," he says. "The music of the country is so intricate and varied by region that it would be a very tall order to create something that would do it justice and not fall into parody. I have drawn on rhythms and modes and tried to create my own vocabulary and palette of sounds from which to draw. The most crucial thing as a composer for this story was to make sounds that reflect the undercurrent of the characters of the piece, not to try and make my own version of Afghan music.”

Coulter’s contribution to the production (backed by the superb sound design by Jake Rodriguez) goes a long way toward establishing the soundscape for A Thousand Splendid Suns. This is especially critical considering the fact that Hosseini’s novel initially gained popularity through the power of its words. In adapting the book for the stage, Ursula Rani Sarma and Carey Perloff whittled away some of the novel’s scenes to focus on the relationship between Mariam and Laila. As the playwright explains:

The theater is one of the best mediums with which to explore complex human relationships like the ones at the center of A Thousand Splendid Suns. It’s about the immense strength and endurance of women and how they can survive tremendous suffering to keep those they love alive. It is also about how love can grow and sustain the human spirit beyond all pain and hardship, even in the darkest of times and places. There simply isn’t enough room in a play to go into depth explaining the complicated history and culture of Afghanistan, so I chose to include only what was necessary to best serve the characters and their evolution throughout the piece. As in the novel, the relationship between Mariam and Laila (trapped in a violent home, reaching out to each other) forms the spine of the play. The difference is that, on the stage, the characters will take on a physical existence while an audience bears witness to their extraordinary journey. From a practical perspective, the majority of the conflict unfolds indoors, in confined spaces, so many of these scenes make for great theatre because they are dramatic, tense, and emotionally engaging.

The result allows for a surprising amount of lyricism to co-exist with Rasheed's domestic violence; even allowing Mariam's execution to provide a sense of redemption in death similar to Marguerite's transformation in Faust. Compare that to the style of heavy war porn on display in this trailer from the as-yet unreleased screen adaptation of A Thousand Splendid Suns.

With several actors (Barzin Akhavan, Jason Kapoor, Denmo Ibrahim) cast in multiple roles, Perloff has done an excellent job of keeping the narrative flowing. As always, Ibrahim is a commanding presence onstage while Pomme Koch's portrayals of both the young and mature Tariq are especially touching.

Haysam Kadri plays the abusive Rasheed as well as the aged, kinder Talib with equal skill while Nikita Tewani shines as Azizah. However, the evening's suffering rests on the shoulders of Nadine Malouf as Laila and Kate Rigg as Mariam, with both artists doing impressive work to show the emotional suffering and intellectually stifling treatment of women in a severely oppressive, male-dominated culture.

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It’s funny. With all of the furor over Beyonce’s losing the Album of the Year Grammy for the third time, you’d think Katy Perry or Britney Spears had snatched the prize out of Queen Bey’s outstretched hands. But people, she was beaten by Adele.

While I personally think there wasn’t much to 25 beyond “Hello” (for me, 19 remains Adele’s strongest album-length work), are we really going to start slamming an artist as important as the Brit with the big, booming voice ― one who apparently also doesn’t think she’s worthy of her second Album of the Year prize in as many tries?

Everyone, including Adele herself, has been asking what Beyonce needs to do to win Album of the Year. It’s a valid question, and this five-part answer has nothing to do with the quality of her music or her race. #GrammysNotSoWhite

1. She needs to release an acclaimed hit album with at least one monster single.

Lemonade was not the “cultural movement” everyone keeps saying it was ― not unless you spend all of your time reading online think pieces. Here in the real world, 2016 was all about “Hello.” The 25 power ballad was everywhere. It was the song that launched countless homages/parodies and had us all reminiscing about past loves. Even non-Adele fans can probably sing its opening line.

But here’s a task for those who aren’t dedicated to the Beyhive: Quick, name one song on Lemonade. While you consider that for a moment, also consider this: Lemonade didn’t spawn a single runaway smash. Even “Formation,” for all the internet obsession, only made it to No. 10 on Billboard’s Hot 100 (a position it held for one week before tumbling to No. 19).

In fact, Beyonce hasn’t scored a Hot 100 No. 1 since 2008’s “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” from her first Album of the Year Grammy nominee, I Am...Sasha Fierce. And if we’re being completely honest, it was the last time a Beyonce song was a bonafide cultural movement. You didn’t have to be in the Beyhive to get all those “put a ring on it” references.

For all of Sasha Fierce’s chart success, critics were not totally on board. It never stood an Album of the Year chance against Taylor Swift’s better-reviewed Fearless. If she’s going to finally snag the big prize, Beyonce is going to have to find a way to be a singles lady and a critical darling.

Still trying to come up with a Lemonade title? “Becky with the Good Hair”? No, that was the publicity hook. The title was “Sorry,” and it debuted and peaked at No. 11 on the Hot 100. The cheating track was bigger in the tabloids than on the charts. Now I challenge you, casual Beyonce fans, to sing one line from it.

2. She needs to take it down a few notches.

While I don’t completely agree with Carlos Santana’s assessment that Beyonce is “not a singer, singer,” I do understand where it’s coming from. I’m reminded of George Clooney, who has been nominated for the Best Actor Oscar three times, but has still only won in the supporting category.

People say he always plays the same character, but anyone who has actually seen his Best Actor-nominated performances in Michael Clayton, Up in the Air, and The Descendents knows that is not the case. Clooney, like Cary Grant before him, simply makes it look too easy. His Oscar-winning turn in Syriana aside, you don’t see the sweat in his performances... so that must mean they can’t be quite Daniel Day-Lewis caliber.

Beyonce has the opposite problem. She tries too hard. All of the dancers, the costumes, the props can sometimes be too much. It’s a gorgeous and gaudy spectacle, one that’s more likely to find favor in MTVs Video of the Year competition, where Beyonce has won twice. Understatement tends to have a better shot in Grammy races.

3. She needs to prove herself as a songwriter.

There’s long been speculation about just how much Beyonce goes into her music, and it’s unlikely to go away as long as her songs continue to be written by committee (several Lemonade tracks are credited to at least a dozen songwriters).

For an artist who has been around for such a long time, we know very little about Beyonce. Her songs are like masks. We pick them apart for clues (note the aforementioned tabloid hoopla over “Becky with the good hair”), because we’re desperate for a morsel of revelation.

Then there is the alleged political statement of Lemonade. While Beyonce deserves credit for encouraging black women to be proud of their black beauty, she had to go and muddle that powerful message with irrelevant lines about having sex and eating at Red Lobster later. It dilutes the power of her social statement, and lyrically, it’s awkward as hell.

India.Aire covered similar ground with far more finesse and far less fanfare in “I Am Not My Hair” ― and she backed it up with a public image that was considerably less airbrushed than Beyonce’s. It’s hard to take a supposed statement about embracing natural beauty seriously when it’s coming from someone who epitomizes glamor-squad celebrity.

Beyonce, listen to 1999’s Album of the Year, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (and take a closer look at what your Grammy-anointed sister Solange has been doing). If you ever dare to release an album that is a stunning a singer-songwriter showcase ― one that doesn’t need a TV special, a “surprise” release, and a fake tabloid scandal to grab attention ― Album of the Year is as good as yours.

4. She needs to let go of the gimmickry.

In other words, just sing.

Everyone talks about how Beyonce and Lemonade represent a music-marketing revolution. They were released on the sly without months of build-up publicity. While that may have been true of her 2013 self-titled opus, it wasn’t true for Lemonade.

Beyonce’s latest album practically begged us to drink up and shell out even before we knew there was an album. She pulled the ultimate marketing ploy by getting to plug it with an HBO special right before its “surprise” release. It was a genius commercial move, but not necessarily the kind of move that wins the big Grammy, which, as I’ve mentioned before, tends to go for understatement.

5. She does not need to be white.

It’s really hard to buy that old fallback argument about the Grammys being racist when Beyonce is the most-nominated female artist in its history (with 62 nods, including her cited work with Destiny’s Child). She’s also the second-most-awarded woman, with 22 wins, right behind Alison Krauss’s 27, and ahead of Aretha Franklin, with 18, and Alicia Keys and Adele, both with 15. (Clearly it pays to have a name that begins with A or B.)

Saying Beyonce is due to win Album of the Year is a bit like saying Annette Bening is due the Best Actress Oscar. (Does that A-B thing only work with the Grammys?) Both may have been deserving in the past, but when I think of due for the Album of the Year Grammy, I think of The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, Madonna and Prince. There are so many notable performers, ones who are even more iconic than Beyonce, who have never won Album of the Year.

Bob Dylan, arguably the most esteemed singer-songwriter in history, didn’t win until Time Out of Mind in 1998, and when Robert Plant finally won, it was for his work with Alison Krauss (on Raising Sand), not Led Zeppelin.

When you think of the Grammys’ history with black Album of the Year winners, it’s hard to cry under-representation. Stevie Wonder won three times in the ‘70s, Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie won consecutively in the ‘80s. Quincy Jones, Natalie Cole, Whitney Houston, Lauryn Hill, Outkast, Ray Charles and Herbie Hancock won in the ‘90s and the noughties. Not exactly a Grammy blackout.

Despite the recent dominance of Taylor Swift and Adele, two artists with very little in common other than their whiteness, the Grammys have actually shown a lot of diversity in its Album of the Year choices over the decades.

The last time Beyonce was up for the honor, she lost to Beck, who had lost 15 years earlier to Steely Dan, a duo more than two decades past its creative prime at the time. In other words, the Grammys have been doing inexplicable forever.

But as travesties go, the 2017 Album of the Year race was not one of them. Sorry, Beyhive. Better luck next album.

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Fifty years have passed since a double bill by Peter Shaffer opened at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre on February 12, 1967. Directed by John Dexter (with a cast that featured Michael Crawford and Lynn Redgrave in their Broadway debuts), Black Comedy/White Lies turned out to be an audience pleaser that ran for 337 performances.

Black Comedy was a droll farce that began in a young man's apartment at 9:30 on a Sunday night. Although people on both sides of the footlights were in complete darkness as the play began, the confused audience could hear the voices of Shaffer's characters carrying on a conventional conversation at a cocktail party. Once the apartment's electricity suffered a short circuit, the lights came up onstage and (as if by magic) the audience could see everything that was happening while the cast had to pretend that their characters were stumbling around in the dark. Thanks to Shaffer's gimmicky approach to what happens during an electrical blackout, much hilarity ensued.

In 1979, when Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street premiered at the Uris Theatre, audiences were faced with a grisly tale of vengeance set to Stephen Sondheim's greatest score. By the end of Act I, when Mrs. Lovett (Angela Lansbury) and Sweeney Todd (Len Cariou) launched into "A Little Priest," the audience was in on the joke and, although shocked and delighted, along for the ride.

In Act II, after Sweeney had slit several throats, a tense moment occurred as a man entered his tonsorial parlor accompanied by a small child. The audience got a huge laugh as the disappointed serial killer, realizing that a witness was present, realized he would have to give the man a shave without the perverse thrill of slitting his throat.

In Pablo Greene's fetish fantasy novel, How to Kill a Superhero: World Without Daylight, after Roland has healed from his underwater struggle against the six-limbed supervillain known as the Crimson Hand, he gets a ride from a sadistic couple who think nothing of using tasers on him as they begin to mutilate his body in preparation for a decapitation.

After escaping their clutches, he walks across the Australian Outback at night. Stopping to rest one night, he falls into a deep sleep. As he awakens from a terrifying dream, he takes solace in once more staring at the stars in the sky and listening to the sound of snakes rustling in the grass. But as Roland monitors the sound of his breathing, he becomes aware of another set of lungs inhaling air very close to him.

"The moonlight shone over a face that lay just inches from mine, like a lover in bed. I had seen this face before -- his deep-set eyes, the pinpoints of white that shone without any pupils, and its mutilated black lips that hung in tatters over its sharp teeth.  'Miss me, lover?' said the Crimson Hand. I screamed again."

While Julie Andrews may have taught millions that "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down," comedy often serves as the lubricant which helps sarcasm and suspense become surprisingly palatable. In her recent article on the BBC News website entitled When Political Comedy Is a Case of Life or Death, Jennifer Keishin Armstrong stresses that:

"Comedy may get bleak, but it never dies. With clowns in the ascendant, we may find ourselves, paradoxically enough, in need of some seriously subversive humor. As the case of Muammar Gaddafi shows, only one thing can kill the instinct for political satire: the demise of a dictator." 

Two recent productions used black comedy to lighten the darkest of scenarios. In one, a brother and sister whose father had had two successive wives, battled their incestuous desires during an intense showdown in a motel room near the Mojave Desert. In the other, a demonic puppet caused enough physical and emotional damage for people to wonder if the devil had indeed made them do such horrible things.

* * * * * * * * *

If you've already had the singular joy of reading Christopher Moore's hilarious novel, The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove, you know that strange things can happen to people when a mysterious force invades a small and relatively clueless community. If you don't believe me, watch this delicious clip of Robert Smigel and his puppet, Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog, interviewing Trump supporters at the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States.

Berkeley Repertory Theatre is but one of 13 American theatre companies producing Hand to God (a gleefully diabolical comedy by Robert Askins) during the 2016-2017 season. Set in a Texas church whose pastor (David Kelly) is a horny hypocrite, the action revolves around Jason (Michael Doherty), a troubled teen whose mother, Margery (Laura Odeh), is trying to help the church's youth group by supervising Jason and his friends as they create and learn how to work with puppets.

There's just one problem. Jason is a very angry young man whose father recently died and whose mother seems to have lost interest in him. His best friend, Timothy (Michael McIntire), teases him mercilessly and has the hots for Jason's mother. His sympathetic classmate, Jessica (Carolina Sanchez), is aware of Jason's pain but is not quite sure how she can help him.

That leaves Jason's unpredictable sock puppet, Tyrone, with an opportunity to help the neglected teen vent his anger at the world around him aided by some shocking special effects. Although Askins wrote Hand To God long before the 2016 election, he doesn't hesitate to liken the foul-mouthed Tyrone to Donald Trump.

“A large portion of this country has been fucked," he states. "Even if people aren’t paying attention to it, something is happening and the dickhead is saying it. Even if the dickhead is wrong, the emotional content is not inaccurate. I see people who get what they want and they are predatory. They are evil. What if all these hypermasculine, out-of-date ideas about the masculine were put in the mouth of a puppet?”

It doesn't take long for Tyrone to turn Jason's world upside down and inside out. Brazenly insulting everyone he encounters (and forcing them to act out on their deepest, darkest secrets), Pastor Greg is easily exposed as the kind of slimy predator who would take advantage of a vulnerable congregant like Margery. Tyrone soon has Jason's mother grabbing Timothy's crotch and subjecting her son's friend to the kind of physical pain he never knew he craved.

Ironically, it's the mousy Jessica who comes to the rescue with her own sock puppet, providing Tyrone with the kind of raunchy puppet sex that makes the puppets in Carnival! and Avenue Q seem as innocent as cherubs. The uproarious scene in which two puppets fuck their brains out on a tabletop is an example of black comedy at its finest. David Ivers, who directed the production, is quick to explain that:

“The sock puppet is probably the most universal, most innocent, most accessible way that any person, at any time, can make an alter ego (everyone’s got socks for the most part). We’re also aware the whole time that it’s being manipulated by someone. The idea that the devil can actually get inside that hand and that person and take over that puppet is petrifying because we’re all aware of the conceit."

"You put the puppet on the hand of someone who is the most vulnerable, which is this kid. He’s already got some issues socially. He’s lost his father and is in a broken situation, in a basement in Cypress, Texas. And this isn’t some poor, southern town. Cypress is a suburb of a major city; there’s a high median income. The characters are hanging on so tightly to their systems of belief that every one of them gives in to the same version of evil. It’s subversive, delicious, and has a structure that is heightened and superior. It terrifies me for all the right reasons.”

There are times when an audience is having so much fun watching what’s happening onstage that it’s easy to forget that the actors are doing some really fine work. I tip my hat to Michael Doherty, who works his ass off (as well as his vocal cords) while voicing Jason and Tyrone. Following close behind is Laura Odeh as his frustrated mother, a woman who is shocked out of her state of hopelessness and helplessness and transformed into a raving vixen who has suddenly found an outlet for venting her anger and feeding her sexual appetite.

Michael McIntire’s transformation from a darkly-dressed slacker into a horny teen who suddenly finds himself mounting the MILF of his dreams provides some great physical comedy while David Kelly just keeps getting creepier as Pastor Greg. Although Carolina Sanchez’s Jessica may not seem like the most interesting character onstage, if you watch her as she works with Doherty to build up to the sexual frenzy in which her puppet gives head to Tyrone, you’ll notice a combination of craft, cooperation, and comic timing that has been carefully rehearsed.

Using an impressively flexible unit set designed by Jo Winiarski (with costumes by Meg Neville), Berkeley Rep has staged Hand to God for maximum effect on an audience desperate for some comic relief from current events. The lighting design by Alexander V. Nichols and sound design by Joe Payne go a long way toward strengthening the special effects that accompany Tyrone’s provocative antics. Designed by Amanda Villalobos, Tyrone begins and ends the show as the kind of friendly puppet anyone could love. Just be careful not to encourage him unless you’re willing risk the consequences.

* * * * * * * * *

It should come as no surprise that a young playwright from Texas like Robert Askins should have an avowed soft spot in his heart for Sam Shepard, whose tales of tormented souls laden down with emotional baggage from their acutely dysfunctional families has earned him a solid place in the literature of the American theatre. As part of its 50th anniversary season, Magic Theatre is presenting a legacy production of Fool For Love, which received its world premiere from the company on February 8, 1983.

While many screen epics have been dubbed as "sword and sandal" adventures, Fool For Love is the kind of story that falls clearly within the "loin and groin" genre of drama. Magnificently directed by Loretta Greco, this revival features stark scenery and simple costumes designed by Andrew Boyce.

Though Fool For Love may have a running time of only 75 minutes and employ a small ensemble of four actors, it delivers emotional fireworks from start to finish. The story may seem simple, but it most definitely is not. May (Jessi Campbell) and Eddie (Andrew Pastides) have a long history of not being able to live with or without each other.

There's just one problem, a small, technical glitch most lovers never have to worry about. May and Eddie may have come from different wombs, but they were spawned by the same father. The Old Man (Rod Gnapp) had two wives and, although his offspring frequently address him (in their minds), there is no escaping the fact that part of May and Eddie's attraction to each other is not just lust, but incest.

After several disappointing years of living in a trailer with Eddie, May is attempting to live sober. Holed up in a motel room near the Mojave Desert, she is trying to maintain a desperate grasp on reality when the ever-impulsive Eddie shows up wearing his cowboy duds, twirling his lasso, and claiming that he's going to take May back and take good care of her.

May knows that Eddie's slick promises are bullshit, but he has that kind of lizard-like charisma and animal magnetism that makes a woman hunger for his touch while hating the honey-coated sound of his voice. Whether she finds herself on the floor, tightly wrapping her arms around Eddie's sturdy legs to prevent him from walking out the door, or pouting in a chair with her legs akimbo as she struggles to get rid of him, their genetic attraction is difficult to defuse.

Eddie believes in himself in a kind of goofy, macho way. A skilled rodeo rider who knows how to rope a steer (and doesn't hesitate to intimidate his half-sister by practicing rodeo tricks such as lassoing the bedposts in her motel room as the two of them keep arguing), he's not quite as smart as he'd like to think he is. While Eddie's mating dance includes some bowlegged strutting, his performance is like that of an engine that frequently misfires.

Complicating matters is the fact that May is awaiting the arrival of Martin (Patrick Russell), the relatively spineless man with whom she has a date. Meanwhile, Eddie is fleeing a vengeful woman who is determined to destroy his truck and the trailer that contains his horses.

With so much sexual tension sparking between May and Eddie, it should come as no surprise that Martin and the Old Man bring a kind of sly comic relief to the proceedings. Jessi Campbell's May burns with a furious determination not to let her brother barge in and ruin her life again, with Patrick Russell doing some fine character work as the befuddled Martin. As Eddie, Andrew Pastides is the embodiment of what some Texans call "a tall drink of water." Though Eddie may no longer be young, he's still charmingly dumb and full of cum.

Much of the black comedy in Fool For Love stems from the nervousness of ex-lovers caught in an uncomfortable situation. The amount of hilarity which erupts during each performance is a testament to Greco's solid direction. This so-called "legacy" production does full justice to Shepard's work as a major American playwright and his professional history with Magic Theatre. In addition to the ensemble's fine work, this revival gets a great deal of its dramatic impact from Christopher Akerlind's superb lighting and Sara Huddleston's frighteningly effective sound design (which frequently convinces the audience that the building is being rammed by an angry female driver seeking revenge on Eddie's cheatin' heart).

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-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.