About fifteen minutes into Duncan Pflaster‘s play, The Empress of Sex, currently showing as part of the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity, a dramatic crisis point is reached. A character, Pistos, has confessed to being in love with one of his paramours, Neara. In accord with the rules of the community of which he is a voluntary member, his life is forfeit. Love and partnered exclusivity are forbidden in this realm, and the self-proclaimed ruler, Empress Salacia, condemns him duly to death. Only, well, that would be a trifle harsh, so the sentence is commuted to banishment. Phew! Crisis averted.

The play gallops forward setting up another potentially dramatic situation. The past lover of Salacia, the faithless man who has compelled her to forswear and outlaw love in her domain, is arriving on the scene in a bid to re-seduce her. Agis, now rueful and lovesick for Salacia, seeks to reunite and redress the wrong he did her. He comes disguised as a woman for this mission, and is accompanied by Adrianna, his sister – disguised as a man, and by Coriolanus, his servant – who frankly will brook no disguises. The scene is ripe for farce and you don’t have to have seen a Shakespearean comedy to sense that a mess of confusion and misunderstanding waits to unfold. Which it does at lightening speed. Unchecked desires in this libertine society quickly connect ill-matched characters and  - oddly amongst the licentious acolytes of Salacia – abruptly deepen into forbidden love attachments. But this spells calamity for Salacia and the domain!  Sounds unbelievable?  Pflaster, and director Glory Kadigan, have chosen to create a comical, almost cartoon world, where nothing really has to be believable.

The actors here are playing for laughs, broadcasting desires and emotions with eye-popping and lip-smacking expressions; while the play is billed as “An Erotic Romantic Comedy” this production is obviously shooting for comedy over eroticism. Which brings us to another salient feature of this production: there are many parts in this play (nineteen performers) and there are many parts on display. The nudity is real, but it’s all played for comic effect.

Pflaster, in tandem with Kadigan, may very well be on to some new sub-genre in entertainment – a pastiche camp, a formally hybridized spectacle that despairs of drama, winks at burlesque review, and esteems bingo parlor humor.  The author has acknowledged a debt to theatrical writer Charles Ludlam (of Irma Vep fame) so perhaps there is a case to be made in favor of a more subversive goal here. The author’s fine language is put in the service of effete play acting and arch silliness; the director encourages mugging on the part of actors, while she also assembles the ensemble into tightly co-ordinated group movements that recall almost a Victorian artificial theatricality. The individual performances are heavily enacted in inverted commas. Except, that is, for Catherine LeFrere who plays the Empress.  LeFrere delivers an earnest deadpan performance – even when she is enjoying public cunnilingual congress in her court.  This interposition seems to place her in another play all together; which makes her turn the comedy performance of the evening. This is artifice within artifice.

Other notable contributions are made by Matthew Menendez (Coriolanus), the over actor’s over actor; Kelly Zekas (Neara), who actually comes close to deploying subtlety; and Eric Percival, whose female impersonation is as (intentionally?) bad as his masculine turn as Agis is sweet and winsome. Marissa Bergman offers a camply atmospheric, pared-down set, and Izzy Fields some knowing and comedic costumes.

This is as profound a work as a set of pasties – and as compelling. The curtain is going up and there’s a new 21st Century Faux in town.

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Related Posts:

• The Empress Of Sex – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• The Taint Of Equality Or, I Want Your Sex (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• The 2012 National Newborn Festival Is Almost Here!
• The National Newborn Festival: Celebrating Emerging Playwrights In Style
• Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare, Bama Theatre Company (Fringe Festival 2012)

There are so many ways that the notion of gender can be fucked with (or – to continue a theme “f*cked” with) that the idea of throwing it all up there on the  stage and cabareting the hell out of is an appealing one.   Mariah MacCarthy’s The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret (directed by Heidi Handelsman) takes a whole lotta gender and then, indeed, fucks with it like crazy.

All the stereotypes are there in full force: as Ms. MacCarthy put it in her interview with me earlier this month “a Feminine Woman, a Feminine Man, a Masculine Woman, a Masculine Man, a Gay Woman, a Gay Man, a Promiscuous Woman, and a Promiscuous Man. Which translates roughly into Girly Girl, Nice Guy/Metrosexual, Tomboy, Meathead, Feminist Lesbian, Gay Best Friend, Slut, and Player.” However, even though these labels are slapped onto the envelopes of these characters, they are soon peeled away with just as much intention.  So, just when you think you know what’s what you’ll find that the tough girl, Devon, (Lauren Hennessy) is actually not a lesbian (what?) - she’s just a tomboy.  And that sweet guy, Benji (Jordan Tierney)? No, he is not gay (huh?). He’s actually very straight – and the best lover his (promiscuous girlfriend) Gwen (Catherine LeFrere) has ever had.  Meanwhile the mouthy guy, Dick (Jamahl Garrison-Lowe) who talks the talk doesn’t walk the walk at all.  He’s a (gasp) virgin and would rather talk to his toddler nephew than seriously pursue a woman.  But you’d never know it from the way he throws out statistics of his romantic conquests.

Jamahl Garrison-Lowe, Yeauxlanda Kay, Lindsay Naas, Lauren Hennessy, Catherine LeFrere, Esteban Benito, Wes Urish, Jordan Tierney (Photo by Kacey Stamats)

All this is MC’d by the androgynous (or genderqueer, take your pick) Taylor (Kim Gainer) who has characteristics of both sexes, the wisdom of a boatload of every gender combo you can think of, but is walking through this mine field right along with the rest of us.  There you have it, folks. Welcome to  The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret.

One note – if you come to the show looking for a traditional cabaret, you should understand that the term is used in a loose sort of way.  Think more “Cabaret” than cabaret – meaning more story than music, though there is a fair share of production numbers that are rousing, energetic, and enough to get you bopping in your seat.  Still, what you’ll mainly be seeing is a series of vignettes that define, defend, devour and denounce everything you ever thought you knew about what it means to be a man, to be a woman, or to leave that box unchecked on the form.

The most important points that The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret make are 1) people, in an effort to make sure they are not  judged solely on their gender insecurities, will often overcompensate and swing widely in the other direction, desperately trying to find validation, only to then feel remorse, anger, confusion and diminishment when they are misunderstood, or (more harshly) mis-labeled.  And while the greater notion is that no one should be labeling anyone else, to expect this is naive.  And 2) Gender rarely – if ever – should be confused with sexuality and yet every day it (mistakenly) is.  Who you are inclined to have sex with has no bearing on how aligned you are to your gender.  Nowhere is this point more perfectly illustrated than in the budding romance between Kate (Yeauxlanda Kay) – a lesbian who finds herself drawn to the undefined Taylor and can’t allow herself to dive into the relationship without first knowing Taylor’s gender … rather than Taylor’s orientation.  The fact that the two are equally attracted to each other doesn’t seem to help Kate make the decsion as much as knowing Taylor’s gender would.   Fascinating.

None of these characters have simple story-lines which travel from point a to point b in a traditional way; and because of that we’re afforded the opportunity to see some scenarios play out in ways that manipulate normal boundaries.  There are time shifts, dream sequences, dance breaks, behind-the-scenes exposition, all aided by the gender-removed-all-knowing-all-seeing Taylor who gets a storyline of her own.  I mean his own.  Shis own?  I don’t think we have a possessive pronoun yet for those unhindered by conventional gender boundaries, but I would hope we’re working on it.

Regardless of your own orientation, predilection, or habits you’ll find something in The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret to identify with.  Probably in ways that will surprise you – and it might even be from a character you’d never have aligned yourself with going in.  But that’s how they roll at the Genderf*ck Cabaret.  Go see for yourself.

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GAY PLAYS FOR STRAIGHT PEOPLE (and Also Gay People)

The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret

Related Posts:

• Ampersand’s Rockstar – A Chat With Lauren Hennessy
• The Team Behind “Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People)” Gives Me Some Straight Answers (And Also Some Gay Answers)
• Ampersand: A Romeo & Juliet Story (Fringe Festival 2011)
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard
• Lesbian Love Octagon – How Many Lesbians Does It Take To Screw In A …