Attack of a Playwright - a 1950s Spoof

The following was written by Michael Buss on his blog Stage Critter at
http://stage-critter.blogspot.com/


21st Aug, 2009. Stages Theatre, Fullerton, opens the revival of this campy 1975 spoof of Hollywood exploitation moves.

Set in the Women’s House of Detention in Greenwich Village we follow the lives of a varied assembly of kooky characters, over several years, under the masochistic supervision of the outrageous matron and her sidekick Louise.

The audience gets seated to the whirling banner of an Apple iDVD movie. Enter a diminutive young man awkwardly carrying a letter-sized pad of paper, to which he frequently refers in order nervously to tell us to turn off noisemakers, eat food at the intermission and read the program. He is, we find out later, David Campos – the director. Come on David, step up. It’s not much to learn off by heart!!

The inmates range in their crimes from prostitution to manslaughter. Enter new inmate, Mary Eleanor, very well played by Elizabeth Serra, who is immediately sodomized with a broomstick by the other inmates, and later raped by the matron, whom, we should mention, is played by Jeffrey Rockey in an outrageous drag role. His larger than oversized portrayal is brash and irrepressible. But wait for surprises.

Mary becomes pregnant – somehow. Now comes the first real oddity. The girls, if we can call them that, are playing basketball, and in one of the many very fast scene shifts that mark the passing of time, the ball is suddenly under Mary’s t-shirt and we now have to believe this is a baby. But as the play proceeds, it is so obviously a basketball under her shirt that the baby belief cannot be sustained. Eventually Mary gives birth, on stage, and the actors grope and struggle under a sheet not only to deliver a baby, but also to remove the basketball! It’s actually very silly. There have to be better solutions.

The eight prisoners range from the whimsical, dreamy Blanche (Autumn Browne, the writer's wife!) who lives in the permanent delusion that she is Blanche Dubois, to the maniacal Ada (Neda Armstrong) who suddenly believes she can fly, and sets off to do so. Jacqueline Bustamante plays a vivacious, fast-talking Puerto Rican, Guadalupe, who is eventually taken away to The Chair. On the opening night we heard her screaming out to her dead chicken AFTER the electrical surge, which we find highly improbably. Better if she yells her line only to be cut off by the shock. But what should have been the poignancy and drama of that moment in the play is sadly lost.

Another odd moment where the direction seems to have fallen asleep is the point where the guards come take Guadalupe away. They seize her. Then she struggles a little and they let her go. But why? She then walks the stage before another half-hearted attempt to take her. Finally she walks to her doom of her own volition. But the role of the guards lacks all motivation and the scene completely falls apart.

The play is violent, but the smacks never connect and it seems nobody has learnt the stage combat tricks for making slap noises or aligning at the right angle to the audience to make the blows look realistic. Pathetic would be a better word. That said, lots of other staging tricks work pretty well: the fight between Blanche and Cheri is very strong, as is the rape scene in the office, and the cutting of hair . . . No - go see for yourself.

Bridgette Casales' dyke portrayal is strong and laced with hard-bitten cynicism. Nikki Frohling as prostitute Cheri looks great though she slightly underplays her part. Sherri Askew is Jo-Jo but her character get rather lost among the other stronger characterizations. Lois McKinney as the old Granny is often very funny in her religious outbursts, but she had a severe case of first night jitters and towards the end of the play was groping for her lines.

The guards were a little too laid back (Adam Poynter and Wendell Good) and effectively doubled in other cameo roles.

If the story revolves around Mary Eleanor, it is the rip-roaring Matron and her almost equally zany sidekick, Louise (Andrea Evans) who constantly stir the pot and introduce one provocation after another.

I suppose this presented the director with yet another challenge. The Matron is SO over the top, extremely campy, that the best the other characters can do is look pale by comparison. I think it might have help the cohesion of the play if Matron’s energy was picked up and reflected by the other characters at various times, even if only in flashes of mockery behind her back or mimicry to her face. If the play is meant to be campy, it is not played uniformly campy. And although the musical underscoring is too intrusive for the most part the action rattles along at a good pace with attractive blocking, excellent interplay and clear, audible dialogue from all characters.

The play is certainly worth the outing. It’s very funny, outrageous, deliciously offensive and raw. It was challenging to stage and the designers did very well in the small space available. The show has started well and will only get better.

by Michael Buss


Since I doubt Mr. Buss will publish my response, I have decided to publish it here on one of my own blogs...

The following is my response:

Michael~

While I can appreciate your love of theater, your ability to properly criticize or write a review comes sadly into question. Your breakdown of the show, "Women Behind Bars" that has already opened to published rave review is in stern contradiction of itself.

Interesting that you break it down, or rather tear it down, piece by piece only to, in the end, encourage the reader to step foot in the theater and partake of the latest brilliant production at STAGEStheatre (stageoc.org)

Having directed many shows myself and dabbled a bit in writing, I found the production delightful and completely in line with its intent - a campy spoof of the 1950s exploitation movies.

Actually, I am a little surprised that someone like you, "a writer," could not see and appreciate the numerous and obvious devices used to move this fun send-up along. Example: the basketball pregnancy. It was obviously a basketball, that was the point of the joke's vehicle - were you not present when said baby was later thrown through the air - like a "basketball"?

Additionally, the "slaps" were intentionally bad, just like the movie slaps of the portrayed era. The wanton looks, the dramatic pauses, the music, the lighting, the stop-action depictions, the back and forth between scenes --> all part of the represented genre.

The best part of your review:
"...for the most part the action rattles along at a good pace with attractive blocking, excellent interplay and clear, audible dialogue from all characters.

The play is certainly worth the outing. It’s very funny, outrageous, deliciously offensive and raw. It was challenging to stage and the designers did very well in the small space available. The show has started well and will only get better." -- at least with this, I concur...

Michael, Please keep us posted when your next show is produced. I keep a blog too.

Regards,

Rayanne Thorn

You can go now, the light has changed...

Been battered and down for so long
it’s hard to know which way is up
until I saw the light and realized
I am not alone.

Escaping loneliness has proven a formidable task for me. I have worked my entire life to develop enriching relationships with those around me. I am a pleaser and a hard-worker, I enjoy music & art, I love theater and find that I can never get enough. A new love has been writing - it has been a strong medicine that has gone a long way to help mend the cracks in my facade. It has also been a bitter pill to swallow as my writing has transformed from dark, brooding stories & poems to somehow deeper, but lighter fare that my soul seems to be feasting upon. I really cannot write enough these days and have some pretty lofty writing plans/goals for myself over the next two years.

Find that one thing that makes your soul perculate. What is it for you? What is your one thing? Changes cause fear but also build character and bring strength. Can you imagine being in the same place you were a year ago? How about five years ago? Maybe even two months ago?

Serenity comes about through acceptance of our past and present. Finding that peace is a challenge for any human that faces their past, stands down the present and moves torward to future with trepidation. Deep breaths, understanding who you really are, and trusting that there is a purpose for today circulates the joy necessary to maintain a life in repair. Love who you are and recognize the path that only you can travel. That recognition lifts the fog of fallacies allowing you to see the flowers and happiness that line your way.

The light is before you - smile at it and proceed with hope.

True Life

Bright eyes tell me
of love and birth
with true life
waiting around a corner
unseen by most
save you and me.

True life
means living out
and staying here
to cherish words,
moments, and flashes
of christening light.

Staying here
is a move for love
when times seemed
futile and a scarcity
of lightness
piqued weary eyes.

Times seemed
long and lonely
until bright eyes
woke from a sound
slumber of one
fate after another.

Bright eyes
strengthen hearts
and tie bonds
where slip knots
fail to exist
and illuminate
a tale of true life.

a red hood

Rare is the world
where fragile water
brims the edges
of wonderment and hope.

Rare is the day
when joy overcomes
the sorrows of yesterday
with the laughter of today.

Rare is a time
when peace comes
without consequences
or tender mercies revealed.

Rare is a heart
that can take the tides
and rise above
to view the new plane.


Fragile water and tender merices
given:
without cost or retort.
Just lighter eyes and souls in flight;

the better to see you with, my dear.

Your rainbow will come smiling thru...

It’s magic and poetry...,
Life and living it.
Words capture and transcend
time and place.

To far off fantasies
of castles on clouds
and princes in pursuit
of justice and right.

Of pumpkin patches
and prancing white horses
and cool marble floors
where bare feet glide.

Resting on satin pillows
are dreams of the perfect
fit...
Slippers to unmatched
wealth - so rich in love.

Songs in flight,
wrapped in bubbles
of sweetness and hope,
finding a soft place to land.

Do you hear the lilt?
Do you thirst for this plane?
Happily ever after
became enchanted
by the soft sapphire light
of midnight.


once upon a time happens now...

Nothing You Can See That Can't Be Shown

The ghastly, worldly take on Easter, full of ugly pastel colors and waxy chocolate, diminishes a beautiful message of hope and new life. I love the delight it brings to my children and the day that it has become for me - time spent with them. But the commecialization is a sticky mess and I freely admit, I sometimes, get caught in it.

Religion is a touchy subject for many and not a good argument to incite. Family, religion and politics are never a good combination. Trust me. Believe me. I was raised in very strict, religious home and I am truly thankful for my upbringing. Being the gregarious, some-what wild individual that I am, without the base that was instilled in me from birth, I may have been in some serious trouble throughout my youth and most of my adulthood. I am also very thankful for the teachers, professsors, mentors, and friends that have exposed me to other views and opened my mind to the possibility that there may be more to believe and embrace than what I was initially taught.

It all comes down to one word - not charity, not faith and more than hope...

LOVE. True, unconditional love and what we would sacrifice for it. To feel blessed for the giving and receiving of that love is to recoginize the source.
No arguments or disgruntled feelings are worth the diminishing feelings they incite.

Most good things can be boiled (like an Easter egg) down to a Beatles song...

Love, love, love.
There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.
Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It’s easy.
There’s nothing you can make that can’t be made.
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be in time
It’s easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known.
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
It’s easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
All you need is love (all together now)
All you need is love (everybody)
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.


Care because you can - tomorrow may be different.  And what happens if it is; 
what would you do?  Do not languish in sorrow but leap in the joy found in
the eyes of a child or the person you love. 

There is no greater light that streams from above.

Tinkling cymbals

Care not for yesterday
and the troubles once known.
But rise to meet today
and spring to life tomorrow.

For joy promised
is joy received
when hearts are open
and souls throw caution to the wind.

Give because
giving brings countless degrees
of knowledge and fills
coffers that sputter and wane.

Listen to the sounding brass
of time and scope
the shore for
a footprint you recognize.

Catch your breath
and hold it close
for catching shows you can
and releasing brings another chance.

Skip when possible
and whistle while merry.
Away the time that once
stood still.

Global in view,
precise in response,
hesitation is lost
as lines fade and walls
of fear crumble
to a waiting earth
where beauty grows
and fields of green
thirst.

Hungry no more,
in harmony
with the music and stories
of gallant men
and brave women.
To life...