#250720 ~ Defending Drag, Rehearsing Resistance, Introducing a View from Inside the House
Brian Eugenio Herrera's #TheatreClique Newsletter for July 20, 2025.
WELCOME to #TheatreClique — my emphatically intermittent newsletter dedicated to encouraging you to click out to some of the most interesting, intriguing & noteworthy writing about drama, theatre & performance (at least, so says me)…
This Week's #TheatreCliquery:
This installment of #TheatreClique links out to pieces that talk tactically about defending drag, rehearsing resistance, and informed consent in audience participation. I also introduce a possibly recurring feature “A View from Inside the House.” But I should note at the outset: none of this week’s links take up the still-unfolding tectonic shifts in the entertainment ecosystem — public media! Colbert! arts critics at the NYTimes! — all of which I’m mostly now seeing as confirmation that the return of Uranus to Gemini might actually be a thing, like the astrologers have been saying. But, without further ado, for this week’s opener — and for a breath of refreshing air — I lift Eamon Foley and Grind Arts’s latest dance film, “Group.” …and if clicking the image below routes to an error message, try clicking here.
EDITOR’S NOTE: whenever possible, whenever linking to paywalled pieces, I try to “gift” the article to #TheatreClique readers. In other words, clicking out to articles in the New York Times, Washington Post, Philadelphia Inquirer, Atlantic, and Wall Street Journal should neither present hassle nor burn through your current allotment of free views. Here’s hoping more outlets — hello LATimes! hi NewYorkMagazine! yo NewYorker!— adopt similar technologies for subscribers soon...
#NowClickThis…
Wherein I highlight a handful of the most click-worthy links I’ve encountered in the last few…
The Advocate’s Ryan Adamczeski reports on the work of Qommittee, a national advocacy network of drag artists and allies, and their recent publication, The Drag Defense Handbook;
at Non-Profit Quarterly, theatre artists/advocates Katy Rubin and Liz Morgan assert the necessity of creating theatre as a “space to collectively dream — and rehearse — different ways of living, working, and resisting”;
American Theatre’s Rob Weinert-Kendt reports on the Verbatim Salon, a project of American Playwriting Foundation, which uses an in-ear verbatim technique to dramatize the urgent stories of those experiencing the U.S. immigration system;
at the Play: Dramaturgies of Participation website, artist/scholar Mo Horner parses the tension between audience participation, linear dramaturgy, and informed consent (from 2022);
Ovation Theatrical Projections’s Jeff Davis reflects on the path-breaking (and history-making) live video design of Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Blvd;
Vanity Fair’s Chris Murphy tracks how the current president might be correctly considered an Andrew Lloyd Webber “stan”';
The New York Times’s Michael Paulson offers an update on what film/tv studio A24 is currently doing with their Cherry Lane Theatre space;
at The Rejected Writer, playwright Gina Femia defines and gives advice for dealing with “bad notes” — or or feedback not “engaged with any form of curiosity [but] instead concerned with telling a writer how and why what they have written is wrong”;
and in remembrance of the extraordinary Connie Francis (1937-2025), I can’t not think of my impulsive purchase of a random, discounted, and probably pirated “Best of Connie Francis” cassette at some truckstop on the way to the 1987 March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. Listening to Connie Francis’s distinctive voice on my walkman that weekend — in songs like “Stupid Cupid” and “Second Hand Love” — retooled my sonic imaginary in unexpectedly enduring ways. And that’s why I so adore how Just in Time Tony nominee Gracie Lawrence sings Connie forward — not as imitation, but in evocation — as she does in this remarkable memorial tribute. Blessings, La Connie, blessings…
Thoughts from That One Theatregoer Who Likes Everything:
Wherein I offer capsule commentaries on what I liked best — my HIGH-LIKES if you will — about the shows I’ve recently engaged...
#95: Minor History of Major Homosexuals: Now With Footnotes and Fringe
Written and Performed by Shelton Pritchard Lindsay • NYC, Off-Off-Broadway : Hot! Festival @ Dixon Place • July 2025.
An irreverent yet reverential, silly yet serious, lecture on the history of art led by the gregarious Professor Shelton Whimsy, with the support of his often-but-not-always cooperative powerpoint presentation. (So many slides! Is this now a thing in queer solo performance?) Professor Whimsy is that deeply informed yet undeniably unhinged docent who invites us to discern the fact of queerness in history through the careful (possibly obsessive) study of art. The tour begins with an exultant account of Professor Whimsy’s great love affair — with the Roman Emperor Hadrian (76-138 c.e.) — through Hadrian’s many depictions in art/sculpture, his “villa” at Tivoli, and his adoration of Antinous (111-130 c.e.). From Tivoli, Professor Whimsy takes us looking for queerness at The Uffizi (there… but often ashamedly hidden); the Louvre (so much sex!); and British Museum (so many things worth stealing for one’s home decor). As the lecture skips giddily to its conclusion (with poetic digressions and essential advice about best practices when hosting a sex party), Professor Whimsy’s point becomes clear: seeing and naming queerness in history is a choice, a decision, and — most essentially — a political act. Delightful. Diverting. More, please.
See also:
at Slate, Professor Whimsy’s alter-ego Shelton Pritchard Lindsay reflects on “the transformational power of ritual theater among the Radical Faeries” (from 2018).
#96: Moulin Rouge! The Musical
Book by John Logan, Music Supervision by Justin Levine • Directed by Alex Timbers • NYC, Broadway : Al Hirschfeld Theatre • July 2025.
Though this was my first visit to Moulin Rouge! The Musical on Broadway, it wasn’t my first encounter with the production. In August 2018, I caught the pre-Broadway tryout staging at Boston’s Colonial Theatre. Which, as I recall, I found to be an eye-popping and surprising mega-theatrical riff on the 2001 Luhrman film that was strangely vacuous, at least on an emotional level. This mixed response might explain why I didn’t feel particularly motivated to wrangle a ticket when it was the hottest ticket on Broadway. And then with the subsequent pandemic interregnum, I just never made it. But, now, nearly seven years since Boston, with speculative rumors about declining box office and possibly imminent closure (and thanks to a well-timed listing on TDF), I finally decided to take the leap and just go. And I’m glad I did. Moulin Rouge’s astonishing production apparatus remains a well-hewn spectacular machine, even if I still struggled to find my emotional hook for the story. Jordan Fisher’s emotional intensity and seemingly effortless vocals were impressive and I’m a stalwart champion of Solea Pfeiffer’s blazing charisma and vocal power (strangely constrained here, it seems, by role’s burdensome requirements/limitations). But maybe the biggest surprise? The music interpolations that felt so contemporary in 2018 — Beyonce, Gaga, Adele, Katy Perry, etc — now seemed surprisingly dated. Still dazzling, still not really the show for me.
See also:
BroadwayBuzz’s Paul Wontorek talks to Jordan Fisher about collaborating (again) with Solea Pfeiffer in Moulin Rouge!;
LiveDesign’s Ellen Lampert-Gréaux talks to designer Justin Townsend about the inspiration, process, and techniques that went into lighting Moulin Rouge!’s lighting (from 2022).
#97: Beau: The Musical
Original Concept, Book, & Lyrics by Douglas Lyons; Music by Douglas Lyons & Ethan Pakchar • NYC, Off-Broadway : Out of the Box Theatrics at Theatre 154 • July 2025.
From one vantage point, Beau is an emotionally stirring gay coming of age story in which a teenager finds a path toward self-love and survival thanks to the loving witness of a still-closeted family member. But from another, Beau is a musically rousing memory play in which a gay adult plumbs the vulnerability and uncertainty of their teen years when they not only discovered themselves but the life-saving power of music. Ably bridging both these stories, in the role of Ace, is actor/musician Matt Rodin (who also publishes the reliably interesting newsletter FourthWall). Supported by the expert staging of director/choreographer Josh Rhodes, Rodin leads a remarkable band of actor-musicians who move seamlessly between the remembered story and the band’s performance “tonight” (when they’re launching Ace’s latest album). Playwright/lyricist Douglas Lyons’s tricky conceit — the tender book scenes in the past, the banging music in the present — somehow works, possibly because the tunes — also by Lyons, with Ethan D. Packchar — are so rousing and the ensemble so winning. Special highlikes to Cory Jeocoma for being so captivating as the caddishly callow Ferris and to Matt Wolpe for bringing the comic bits to the always surprising Larry. But, really, kudos all around: Beau The Musical is a rocking gem of a musical and an exemplar of the dramaturgical potency of true actor-musicianship.
See also:
at Parade, freelance arts writer Jeryl Brunner talks to writer/lyricist/composer Douglas Lyons about Beau’s roots and the contemporary urgency of this coming-of-age show about music, identity and family;
Gay City News’s Christopher Byrne praises Beau The Musical as an “intimate production [with] a big heart [that] also totally rocks.”
#98: The SpongeBob Musical
Musical Production Conceived by Tina Landau • Book by Kyle Jarrow; Music by Various • Directed by Molly Chase • Lambertville, NJ • Music Mountain Theatre • July 2025.
I think the last time I attended a community theater production was In the Heights in Albuquerque in 2018. And, yet, any time I do dip into the community theater pool, I’m reminded (A) that community theater is where the drama bug bit me and (B) that of the often impressive level the mostly volunteer talent, labor, and commitment required to sustain a dynamic community theater. But even though I count The Spongebob Musical among my favorite musicals of the past decade and I unequivocally consider it to be one of the most startlingly prescient and enduringly relevant works of theatre vis-a-vis our contemporary political moment, I entered the Music Mountain Theatre production warily and on high-cringe alert. But I needn’t have worried. The gamely enthusiastic (and often quite talented) cast/crew brought the whole thing off with moving panache. (Special highlikes to Michael Hall for his original and specific take on Patrick Star, and to the petite Katie Dina whose giant voice never let us forget that Pearl is a whale.) All of which reminded me that nothing reveals “the bones” of a show more clearly than an amateur production — and while Spongebob the character is boneless, his namesake musical’s bones are both sturdy and flexible. And while the pro-shot was a clear referent for this Spongebob’s director and designers, I delighted at the occasional “well we can’t do that so let’s do this” moments of genuine creativity, making me truly glad to revisit Bikini Bottom on Music Mountain.
See also:
in the Summer 2024 issue of River Towns Magazine, freelance writer Kimberly Nagy profiles Music Mountain Theatre founder Ginny Brennan;
for more on non-professional theatre’s importance within the broader theatrical ecosystem, consider this conversation between my Princeton colleagues Stacy Wolf and Wallace Best about Wolf’s prize-recognized book, Beyond Broadway: The Pleasure and Promise of Musical Theatre Across America (Oxford UP, 2019).
#91.99: Joy: A New True Musical
Book by Ken Davenport; Music & Lyrics by AnnMarie Milazzo • Directed by Lorin Lotarro • Choreography by Josh Bergasse • NYC, Off-Broadway @ Laura Pels Theatre • Julu 2025.
A diverting, upbeat, ostensibly inspirational musical retelling of the story of entrepreneur and self-made magnate Joy Mangano (a now oft-told story, both on film and in memoir). Anchored by a warmly dimensional and deftly comedic performance from Betsy Wolfe, and fortified by exceedingly capable work from a winning ensemble, Joy: A New True Musical hits its musical-comedy marks with optimistic aplomb — thanks to director Lorin Latarro’s bright directorial touch. Wolfe’s capacity to turn a line, to leaven a quiet moment, and to launch the Act1 finisher — that familiar set-piece in which the newbie founders on live TV — as a giddy, crowd-rousing hoot is impressive. And Latarro — with clever support from video designer David Bengali — mines every drop of humor from this sequence (easily the musical’s most complex, which culminates with cast-members actually handing out free mops) and gooses the audience’s spirit perfectly. Wolfe’s powerful voice evinces the emotional layers in each of of the many Mangano mini-manifestos in the largely declamatory score and Wolfe’s charisma somehow makes the against-all-odds turns of the script pleasingly believable (if not fully plausible). Joy: A New True Musical is mostly a heartfelt exhortation to “Make a Miracle” in your own life and, judging by the bracingly enthusiastic response by both crowds I saw it with, there might just be an audience out there for this chicken soup for the theatregoer’s soul…
See also:
The Broadway Show’s Tamsin Fadal talks to Betsy Wolfe about her long journey with the show and messiness of life with and in Joy;
at Theatrely, freelance theatre writer/critic Juan A. Ramirez praises Joy as “perfectly pleasant” and celebrates Wolfe for “yet again doing God’s work to elevate her material.”
A View from Inside the House:
Wherein I offer brief snapshots of perhaps memorable moments that were part of being part of an audience these last few weeks…
STARSTRUCK: That person on the aisle who did a full-body spit-take when a not-particularly-famous Tony winner walked past. And who then just kept staring, their mouth fully agape, as the Tony-winning person tried to be inconspicuous while finding their seat in a rear row.
SECOND SCREEN: That child — maybe 6 years old, give or take — booster-seated in the center orchestra between their mother and grandmother immediately in front of me at a major Broadway musical. The kid’s attention was raptly absorbed, first, by so many concession snacks and, then, by whatever was streaming on their mother’s phone. (I clocked SpongeBob, Hotel Transylvania, and the YouTube interface.) The only thing about the show that even glancingly caught this kid’s interest was not one character’s dazzling descent from the sky, or the onstage pyrotechnics, or the kinetic chorus kicklines, but the ConductorCam streaming just above and behind us both. Observing this kid inhabit their bubble — which seemed to include only their snacks, their screen, their caregivers — got me thinking about, of all things, Stanislavksi’s circle of attention. My favorite moment? Right when a central character started coughing up blood, the kid leaned into their mother and, in a perfectly audible stage whisper, pronounced: “I want to go home NOW!”
SPECTATOR PROFILING: That box office person who — when scanning the reservation list for my name — said: “We’ve got two shows tonight, and I’ve been perfect guessing who’s here for what! (Pause.) Oh… I got you wrong. Sorry.” I did spend the next several minutes pondering the potential meanings of that apology.