Wednesday 9 March 2016

Gay Heritage finds laughs, history, no "home"

Quicky version

No question. It is trite to observe how "gay" has morphed from its earlier meanings "carefree", "happy", "bright & showy". The fin d'siecle era Gay Nineties or Jacques Offenbach's 1941 lite opera Gaite Parisienne are a far cry from today's idiom. Today "gay" points to a rainbow of lifestyles that are alternatives to more traditional ones known by the antiseptic clinical research term "cisgender", i.e. people who are comfortable with the traditional sexual roles and orientation in the male or female bodies they were born with.

A 3-hander written and performed by Toronto thespians Damien Atkins, Paul Dunn and Andrew Kushnir, TGHP tells of these gay men's individual life experiences through song, choreography and clever deconstruction in a cabaret format of bizzy buzzy ditz and soap and some sad snaps, too.

Meaning. Belonging. Community. "Heritage". These are age-old quests for people throughout world history. In this play the question zeroes in on what one's sexual identity might be, and is there any continuity or legacy across time for those who are decidedly not "cisgender"?

That TGHP as conceived and performed by three 30-something white gay men of privilege manages to open our eyes and ears and minds through hilarious and poignant sad song and story to even a soupçon of recent gay history -- a history in search of a white male gay heritage -- is a tribute to the show's collective courage, brilliance and charm.

Wordy version

From the footlights : No question. It is trite to observe how "gay" has morphed from its earlier meanings "carefree", "happy", "bright & showy". The fin d'siecle era Gay Nineties or Jacques Offenbach's 1941 lite opera Gaite Parisienne are a far cry from today's idiom. Today "gay" points to a rainbow of lifestyles that are alternatives to more traditional ones known by the antiseptic clinical research term "cisgender", i.e. people who are comfortable with the traditional sexual roles and orientation in the male or female bodies they were born with.

Indeed, I chanced upon the York University 2015 Pride Week website invitation to-day. It demonstrates how difficult a challenge it is to capture non-traditional personal identity in a tiny 3-letter word : for its celebration, York U. reached out its hands to those who identify as being "lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, transgender, intersex, queer, questioning, two-spirited and pansexual". Missing only an invite for those who present as "asexual". Regardless, the alpha version now most common to embrace all these options is LGBTQ2S+.

Thus that TGHP as conceived and performed by three 30-something white gay men of privilege manages to open our eyes and ears and minds through hilarious and poignant sad song and story to even a soupçon of recent gay history -- a history in search of a white male gay heritage -- is a tribute to the show's collective courage, brilliance and charm.

How it's all put together : A 3-hander written and performed by Toronto thespians Damien Atkins, Paul Dunn and Andrew Kushnir, TGHP tells of these gay men's individual life experiences through song, choreography and clever deconstruction in a cabaret format of bizzy buzzy ditz and soap and some sad snaps, too. 

Imagine a re-do of The Wizard of Oz in 90 seconds (by Atkins alone) that finds the Kansas entourage in search of an elusive gay heritage that binds each of them inexorably as a community. Toto included. The Wiz tells them their hunt is futile : their collective gay-ness is a recent phenomenon, he says, not an historical imperative or even a cultural diaspora they can claim as their soul's home. Aghast, they challenge : "Meaning this historical existential loneliness is not a 'heritage' but something you choose ?"

Growing up as Millenials in the first post-AIDS gay generation, the three undertake to give the audience meaningful snippets from queer history. From the commonness of ancient Greek and Roman homosexual assignations; followed by Christian violence and torture of "sodomites"; to Ralph Klein's Alberta where Atkins and Dunn were fetched up and where Kushnir, later, took his theatre training -- all of this is but a short toss of the ball of history.

What the show brings to the stage : Meaning. Belonging. Community. "Heritage". These are age-old quests for people throughout world history. In this play the question zeroes in on what one's sexual identity might be, and is there any continuity or legacy across time for those who are decidedly not "cisgender"?  What Canadians can be found to champion the cause? 

A great bit of stuff, Atkins leads off with a chummy pre-teen version of skater Brian Orser's 1988 Olympic long show in the family living room, to which his sister, knowingly, responds : "Again...?!

Kushnir goes on a thorough but fruitless search for gay Ukrainians, his family's roots. Notta nibble on google, even of the concept of a gay Ukrainian. Only on a trans-Ukraine train trip does Kushnir encounter a couple fellow travellers. They have sorry tales to tell. 

Throughout the show Dunn is the prime researcher. To him falls the task to tell the grim, tortuous history of homosexual death-camp prisoners in Nazi Europe. 

The playwrights also personify and anthropomorphise concepts to examine gay life. HIV is on trial against humanity. Atkins reveals in a theatrical victim-impact statement that being a gay Millennial means his generation is made up of a "community of ghosts", not unlike postwar Europe where millions of kids'  dads had perished. 

Then there's Gay Identity. To become acceptable in straight society, did G.I. suppress the grittier sides of the earlier in-the-closet lifestyles of Gay Desire along with his tag-along buddies Drag and Camp* [*Factoid : the word "camp" is said to be from the original police blotter acronym "kamp", for "known as male prostitute"].

As a self-conscious but honest nod to the other sexual variants York U. identified in addition to gay, the show brings forward dramatic complaints in the completely compelling Gay Bus scene. The disabled gay woman, the transgendered former man, the macho lesbian all reveal their disgust how white gay males are too exclusive, too mainstream, not marginalized enough to speak their truths. These other folks with their even-more distinct personal and unique identity needs can't, won't, refuse to be "represented" by the likes of the TGHP troupe. 

In the world of queer, in other words, college-educated professional white gay male actors from Alberta are decidedly "1st world" in the geography of pain, exclusion, angst, discrimination, and alienation these others suffer so much worse. E.g. Try a google search on the twin concepts of "transgender+feminism". It will produce a catalogue of angry, often cataclysmic conference on whether the two words can even be uttered together in a single breath with moral honesty. 

Production values that shine : This show is painfully rich in theatrics and themes. "To further our claims of legitimacy!" is the spoken and underlying leitmotif

The primary drama is a spare set using a dozen or more oak spindle-back chairs. These are hustled to-&-fro, up-&-down, back-&-forth across the set. The actors plop in the chairs and do spin-about 90-degree flips left-to-right and back again as they switch from one character's voice to another. These are snatches of dialogue with others from their personal biography or maybe point out in rapid-fire staccato voce some historical note of pertinence.


The songs and medleys arranged by Mr. Kushnir are invariably clever, tight, tuneful and wonderfully harmonized, mostly cappella. The troupe's best outing was a roll call of gay causes and related tunes over the years in a montage including bits re: Act Up; Fight Back, Fight AIDS; "Seasons of Love" (from Rent), even Mylie Cyrus's current shrill offering "Wrecking Ball".


To claim one performer superior to another would be unfair. Each of Messrs. Atkins, Dunn and Kushnir have a season in the sun where they shine. While Atkins perhaps is the most versatile with his catalogue of voice and accent changes, Kushnir's dramatic songsmithing and emotive diary sequences grabbed even more. But Dunn's concluding Irish lament found many a tear right before the final thunderous applause at show's end.


What doesn't work so well : Even though the TGHP troupe openly admits it, fact is the voice of women is notably absent here but for the exceptional Gay Bus scene. And to this viewer at least, the sequencing of the final three pieces was in that respect quite askew. Because it is precisely in the Gay Bus tabloid that the ultimate truth of the show is revealed. 


Fact is there is no one voice for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, transgender, intersex, queer, questioning, two-spirited, pansexual and/or asexual folk. To follow the completely poignant Gay Bus scene with joshing about a Sissy Liberation Front and the silly (though clever) Panty Rovers routines detracted, I thought, from the show's true thematic punch.


And particularly so because there is no one voice, never mind "heritage", for women -vs- non-women. Women, as The Vagina Monologues so clearly demonstrated, have issues all unto themselves that no white male gay could ever fully appreciate or approximate, only approach obliquely and delicately through their heart's access to empathy. 


Still, this is quibble, not condemnation. The show is astounding. Long hesitant on the subject, I now, truly, understand the concept of "either visible, or destroyed". I will never look at a Pride Parade with quite the same jaundiced eyes as I perhaps have in the past. Before last night those eyes squinted toward a view that echoed Trudeau pere : if the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation, why should the bedrooms of some in the nation warrant an annual parade? Okay. Now I get it.


Who gonna like : No question gay white Millennial men will relate to this quite astonishing show. But who should be lining up to see it are all those queasy unsettled folk in the land for whom sexual variances are an uneasy subject to deal with. Because TGHP softens one's grip on bias, dogma, disbelief or disrespect. Through exceptionally clever stage action directed by Ashlie Corcoran, even the most hardened resister of the sizeable non-cisgender universe can enjoy, appreciate, and learn empathy from this clever zippy performance. As stated above : "Meaning. Belonging. Community. 'Heritage'. These are age-old quests for people throughout world history." Sexual preference or identity issues will never change this basic fact. All of us need a huddle of folks we can hug. 


Particulars : Presented by The Cultch as Produced by Buddies in Bad Times Theatre [Toronto]. At The Cultch Historic Theatre, through March 19th. Run-time 105 minutes, no intermission. Schedule information & tickets via thecultch.com or by phoning the box office after 12:00 noon @ 604.251.1363.

Production Crew : Created by Damien Atkins, Paul Dunn, & Andrew Kushnir.  Directed by Ashlie Corcoran.  Set & Lighting Design by Kimberly Purcell.  Video design by Cameron Davis.  Sound Design by Thomas Ryder Payne.  Dramaturge & Gay History Research by J. Paul Halferty.  Choral Medley & Arrangements by Andrew Kushnir.  Choreography by The Ghp Collective.  Stage Management by Kristopher Weber.


Performers :  Damien Atkins. Paul Dunn. Andrew Kushnir.

Addendum #1 : Last New Year's Eve reporter Chris Dupuis of the Daily Xtra newspaper interviewed the three principals of TGHP. Excerpts, with Thanks! to Mr. Dupuis and Daily Xtra, as follows :

CD : Since the last presentation (2013), huge changes have occurred in queer life around the world. How have these social-cultural shifts shaped the piece?


Atkins : There are lots of changes to individual scenes, but the overall super-structure remains the same... In terms of specifics, the trans movement has really exploded in a public way since the last run, so we've examined how to include that. Obviously it's been around for a long time, but it's become much more a part of the pop culture consciousness, so we want to reflect and celebrate that.


Kushnir : Many of the questions we've been turning over are of the irreconcilable variety, and are just as lively now as they were before. What does it mean to belong? Where do we come from ? Who may be the heroes and adversaries that define us? What history can we lay claim to? We've [TGHP creators] always conceived of heritage as a verb, rather than a noun, a personal and communal practice, as opposed to something we figure out and present. It's an act of collective imagination and everyone's invited to the table. 


CD When the show had its premiere, there were some rumblings within certain parts of the queer community about the problem of three gay white men creating a comprehensive account of queer history. What are your feelings about this ?


Atkins : I always think it's amusing, perplexing and a bit irritating when people have opinions about a piece before they've seen it. We've really tried to walk a fine line in terms of speaking for ourselves but not speaking exclusively of ourselves. The problem with a project like this is that if you only speak about your [own] experience you're accused of flaunting your privilege, and if you speak inclusively you're accused of appropriation of voice. So you're caught in a kind of impossible situation... What we did with the play is really look at that question head on, while acknowledging we're only a tiny segment of that spectrum.


The show's an invitation, not a kind of lecture. And the invitation is to investigate your own heritage... We've tried to make it as inclusive and invitational and pleasurable as possible, so that even if it's not your heritage being examined, you might find links here and there, and hopefully have a really good time in the process. 


Addendum #2 : From Wikipedia, this squib on The Vagina Monologues that puts in clear perspective how TGHP can't help but be exclusionary despite its best intentions:


The Vagina Monologues is made up of a varying number of monologues read by a varying number of women (initially, Eve Ensler performed every monologue herself, with subsequent performances featuring three actresses, and more recent versions featuring a different actress for every role). Each of the monologues deals with an aspect of the feminine experience, touching on matters such as sexloverapemenstruationfemale genital mutilationmasturbationbirthorgasm, the various common names for the vagina, or simply as a physical aspect of the body. A recurring theme throughout the piece is the vagina as a tool of female empowerment, and the ultimate embodiment of individuality.


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