Gay Nazis in Luuuuurve

If there's a single theme that American theater has neglected in recent years, it is most definitely the poignant and timeless theme of gay Nazis in love. (Thank you, Windows, for letting me know that "Nazis" should always be capitalized.)

Thank god for the Goodman Theatre's production of Passion Play, then: I greatly enjoyed my quota of gay Nazis in love this weekend.

My weekend was chock full of theater, actually. (Sadly, not chock full of gay Nazis in love. If only!) We saw Fiction by Remy Bumppo at Victory Gardens, which was excellent. If you go and are underwhelmed at intermission, trust me and stay. The second half is an insane wrap up of the first half and it's amazing. I do not abuse the italics button for just any play, people: it was damn good.

Sunday was, as I said, Passion Play at the Goodman. Eh...I just don't know. Maybe I just didn't get it? I mean, yes, some of it was fascinating and very well done, but other parts were just distracting and unnecessary.* Giant fish? Yes, yes, I'm sure it had something to do with how we're all fish and Jesus is a fisher of men and...and...stuff, but mostly the huge, person-sized fish were just enormously distracting (no pun intended).

I also feel like the play itself was not entirely polished. Not the performances, which were of very high caliber, but the text was just...getting there, but not there yet. I don't know: I would make a terrible theater critic. Part of the problem is that every play I see at the Goodman I can't help but compare to their King Lear, which was so amazing that I may have teared up multiple times (although I'll never admit it).

Still, the cycle did have its merits. I did very much like the second piece that took place in Nazi Germany, and not just because of the gay Nazis in love (although the dynamic between those two actors was fantastic throughout the entire cycle). At the very end, with the train to Dachau pulling up, my breath caught. The cycle is almost worth it just for the middle third.

Related but irrelevant: there was a guy on my train this morning sporting a Hitler 'stache. Very jarring for 7:30 a.m., I must say. Not a good call.

Summary: see Fiction if at all possible, see Passion Play if you get free or discounted tickets.

* Distracting but totally necessary: male nudity. As one of my fellow audience members put it, "Hell yes." Good lord, I think that thing is probably visible from space. If I looked like him, I wouldn't have problems getting naked in front of an audience twice a day either.

Moderately Discombobulated and Disconcerted

I saw such a great play last night. Lillian Hellman, never change. Toys in the Attic, done by Blindfaith Theatre at The Viaduct: SO GOOD. So good, in fact, that I got back home still reeling from the emotional charge and went to bed without setting my alarm, hence this morning's discombobulation and disconcernation. At least I'm a morning person, so I still got to work on time thanks to some heroic efforts.

Hold on, must go grab breakfast.

Okay, I'm now armed with a bagel. Returning to the topic at hand: did I mention SO GOOD? Lillian Hellman always takes my breath away with her twisted, twisted plots (The Children's Hour, holy crap: I saw it years ago and it's still imprinted on my brain).

I have no experience to substantiate this opinion, but I think that her roles must be very difficult to play. Hellman's characters always have hidden (twisted) depths that slowly emerge over the course of the play, and the challenge for the actor is to make it both entirely natural and a complete surprise.

Related: Hellman's tendency to include unusual sexual proclivities in her characters has always made me wonder exactly on what experiences she was drawing. To Wikipedia!

No word on the sexual creepiness, but: "She was romantically involved for 30 years with mystery and crime writer Dashiell Hammett (and was the inspiration for his character Nora Charles ), and was also a long-time friend and the literary executor* of author Dorothy Parker."

Okay, I'm trying not to have an paroxysms of joy here, but Dashiell Hammett is one of my very favorite authors, and I've recently gotten on board the Dorothy Parker Is Awesome train. Surely someone, somewhere has written a fictionalized account of their relationships. Or heck, I'll take non-fiction, too. But come on, the novel would be fantastic! I'd write it, but that would involve research, and eh.

What was I talking about? Oh, right, the play. Still so good! Tragically, the actors (if one counts the walk-ons), outnumbered the audience. Jackie and I constituted more than 20% of the audience. Sad! Especially since it was so good. The play closes Sunday, and it's obviously not sold out, so if you live in Chicago I highly recommend attending.


* Wouldn't that be executrix? I'm just saying.