For a series of loosely connected monologues focusing on the patrons and workers at an Atlanta gay strip club, Ryan Kipp‘s biographically based, self-authored, one man show, REDlight, which runs for all of 36 minutes, is immensely ambitious. Not only does it ask much of its performer in generating a diversity of meaningful, sympathetic characters within such a brief span, but it asks much of its audience in exploring the notion of a less fractious, less fragmented experience of sexuality – specifically male sexuality. Identifying fully as a heterosexual man, who is in some regard shopping the goods on an environment created for gay men, Kipp places the cat among the pigeons right from the get go. Audience members can either go with him in his explorations, or resolutely dig their heels in and deny him any authority to speak on matters he is essentially removed from. The latter objection is at the heart of Kipp’s greater theme: the possibility of stepping outside of an identity grounded experience of sexuality to encounter “the other” simply as an opportunity for connection.

The writing is compact and his character sketches necessarily condensed. On an empty stage, with just a trunk of costume changes pushed up to one side, against a backdrop of scene setting projections, and musical/audial atmospherics, we are treated to a succession of characters at various points of excitement, frustration, rage, and regret. His wife just wouldn’t understand, one character opines, that as a straight man he finds something deeply enjoyable about the company of gay men in a sexually charged environment. She wouldn’t be the only one today who couldn’t take this statement at simple face value. In one episode Kipp revisits memories of a loving boyhood relationship with his father, which grew troubled and unraveled due to his inability to countenance his father’s weaknesses. Back at the strip club, VIP clients prove enraged when their social credentials of masculine status cannot compel Kipp’s straight stripper to engage in sex. Episodically, with subtlety, Kipp articulates a world where the socialization of the sexual self gradually alienates us from the capacity for sympathy and intimacy. Related in short, pungent monologues, the author asks the audience to pull the picture together, to mine the melancholy, even as he whoops and cavorts in sexy athletic flips and gyrations. It can be difficult keeping up with who is speaking at any given time, and the boundaries between real experience and story telling are purposely frayed. It’s heady, it’s uncompromising, and it’s compelling.

As a performer Kipp is an immediate and persuasive stage presence, and you’re willing to trust him, even as an exhibitionist cock-tease who plays a game with men he won’t be fully satisfying. Perhaps this is where all the grey matter activity strays into an area hopelessly, historically grey. If you play at sexual invitation, where does the responsibility for your actions end? If you move from the stripping stage to a “VIP room” – and there may be a list of behavioral rules posted at the door – what, as an entertainer, are you playing at by denying a client what you are suggesting you are offering? Who is exploiting who, and is the relentless tease merely a front for psychological sadism? Kipp kicks up a lot of this sort of inquiring dust and artfully doesn’t attempt any pat answers. Which no doubt will prove frustrating for some.

This is an intense and personal work, jointly developed in close co-operation with the show’s two directors, Jennifer Tuttle (the author’s wife), and Marc Santa Maria. For all the hands involved, it’s impressively spare and concentrated. It provides a platform to show off Kipp’s obvious acting and writing abilities. Given the sophistication of the themes, a question arises at the conclusion when Kipp purposely breaks the frame of the drama and, arms stretched wide, finally completely naked, addresses the audience directly, asking if they could ever accept him just as he is, without the teasing allure of a constructed sexual persona. But an actor on stage is never merely himself, and as a past stripper Kipp seems ingenuous in suggesting it can be otherwise. You can as soon free such a statement from it’s context as an individual from their history. The tease goes on, but there’s merit in it.

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REDlight
Trigger Creative
Writer: Ryan Kipp
Director: Jennifer Tuttle and Marc Santa Maria
Choreographer: Carol Johnson
Meet Gavin, a straight man who strips in a gay club. From his perch at sexuality’s ground zero, Gavin discovers there is more that ultimately connects us than divides us.
0h 35m   Local   Queens, New York
Solo Show   Drama
Staycation: In Someone Else’s Shoes
www.redlightplay.com
VENUE #06: The White Box at 440 Studios
Fri 10 @ 7  Wed 15 @ 4  Thu 16 @ 9:30  Sat 18 @ 4:30  Sat 25 @ 5  Sun 26 @ 4

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• On Campus – Not All Lessons Happen In The Classroom
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Looking back now, a movie like The Breakfast Club seems so innocent, but back when I was a teen, watching the movie with my friends in the actual movie theater, we were in awe of how “a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal” could find common ground one Saturday – linked by the shared tragedy of a day together in detention.

On Campus, written by Steve Sherman and directed by Marc Santa Maria is a much weightier tale set not in the halls of a high school but in the dorm rooms, class rooms and connecting paths of a college campus.  And while the same familiar characters populate the story – the jock, the popular girl, the sensitive guy, the angsty artistic girl (with a few new faces thrown in: the funny Jason Segel-esque side kick and the studious, sweet Mexican girl) – the tale being told is far different.  On this campus the stakes are higher, the choices are harder, and the tragedy is no longer as quaint as a Saturday spent locked up in the school library.  No, here, On Campus, these kids are literally dealing with life and death.

Upon walking into the LABA Theater at the 14th Street Y the first thing you’ll notice is the fantastically detailed and elaborate set.  Scenic Designer Daniel Zimmerman (assisted by Jake Millgard who plays Stub) really did an outstanding job of transforming the generously large space at LABA into several dorm rooms on a college campus linked together by winding paths.  In the world of off-off Broadway where a car is usually represented by two chairs and a living room is the same two chairs plus a box with a doily on it,  it’s really nice to see a play called On Campus take place … well … on campus.

Once the action begins the set allows the audience to view all the characters simultaneously, in real time – so despite the fact that we’re watching a conversation upstage we can still watch another character curled up their bed down stage, for instance.  This allows us to take in university life as a whole, to let the characters and their daily habits sit with us consciously and subconsciously – we become one of them as we settle into their world.

Jake Millgard (Stub), Chloe Tuttle (Jackie), Sarah Saunders (Dona) and Steve Sherman (Nathan) | Photo by Bobby Plasencia

Writer Steve Sherman pulls double duty here, he’s not only the playwright but he plays Nathan, the sensitive guy who has a crush on Mexican newcomer Dona (Sarah Saunders) but needs his roommate Stub (Jake Millgard) to talk him into actually taking the relationship from just friends to something more.

Dona’s roommate is the beautiful and popular Jackie (Chloe Tuttle) who is furtively dating big-man-on-campus superjock Zeke (Ed Stelz) desperately trying to keep it a secret from her estranged best friend, and Zeke’s sister, Harmony (Caitlin Gold).  While this is probably for the best, it’s just another way that Harmony feels out of the loop.  She’s already the “misunderstood artsy” girl, oddly mismatched with her golden boy brother and desperately lonely on the other side of campus.  When she reaches out to a friendly teacher (played by Bobby Plasencia) her desperate need to bond with someone turns dangerous.  The ramifications of her actions winds up affecting every one of the characters in ways no one could have predicted.

Sherman, as a playwright, is quite young – surprisingly so; for one so young he’s written a polished and well crafted play.  The writing is sharp and crisp with well defined characters who speak dialogue that sounds natural and convincing.  Under Marc Santa Maria’s direction Sherman’s plot line quietly unfolds – but it doesn’t meander; Maria doesn’t rush the dramatic points but also doesn’t lag either.  Sherman has written a play that is able to skillfully interweave the lives of all these characters, show us their individual journeys while still giving us the big picture of how one person’s actions can cause ripples that affect those in their community.  Each actor of the ensemble is strong, and does a standout job; there are no lost moments here.

Sherman explains that “characters from ON CAMPUS were inspired by my service work for the non-profit organization ESPERANZA (“hope”) which is located in Tijuana, Mexico. I wrote it in the wake of many suicides at universities in New York.”

With only a few days left in the run, take some time and go On Campus.

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Related Posts:

• REDlight (Fringe Festival 2012)