The Apothecary, 1013 7^th Street NW 

Remaining Performances:

Tuesday, July 20 at 6:00 p.m.
Friday, July 23 at 8:00 p.m.
Sunday, July 25 at 12:45 p.m.

They Say:  “A seeker embarks on a journey to discover a way home.  Experiencing the beauty and brokenness of internal landscape(s), she must resolve the arising conflict between these to reach her final destination and the love that lies beyond.”

Ann’s Take:  (Snap)Shots documents a moment in the lives of two women on a journey, quite literally on the bus and figuratively through their emotions. Opening with the pair knotted on the floor, the couple slinks through tangled sequences only to burst abruptly apart. And so ends the interesting part of the piece. From here, hearts are broken and teenage moodiness ensues, complete with dancer Kjerstin Lysne writhing on the floor, arms bound in her sweater as she punches her fists to mimic her throbbing heart beats. 

To emphasize the point, in case you’re missing it, dancer Dia Dearstyne dumps a suitcase full of paper cut-out hearts onto the floor. She tenderly pastes one to her sternum and insists her irritable traveling companion cut her own paper heart to wear.  But, you know paper hearts can’t last forever, and the characters thus delve into deeper darkness. The unfolding drama is accompanied by projected video footage of blurred car-window landscape.  (Bring your Dramamine.) 

It is clear that collaborators Lysne and Dearstyne, as well as director Melissa Bustamante, set out to show their audience something profound.  To their credit, the women know how to put together smooth sequencing, and they are well-trained technical dancers.  I applaud the efforts they made to develop fresh, poetic material.  But, these efforts do not translate into successes, and the piece ends up instead very straightforward, stale and well, frankly not that remarkable.  Neither evocative enough to engage nor well-crafted enough to impress, (Snap)shots, lands somewhere in the “still under construction” category, leaving us with a half an hour of less-than-impactful imagery trying very hard (sometimes very, very hard) to find its footing.  

See it if:  You want to support young artists as they embark on their first adventures in production. 

Skip it if:  You’re already on the fence about contemporary dance.  

Goethe Institut Gallery

812 7^th Street NW

Remaining Performances:

Saturday, July 17 at 2:30 pm
Sunday, July 18 at 2:00 pm
Thursday, July 22 at 8:00 pm
Saturday, July 24 at 6:00 pm
Sunday, July 25 at 11:30 am

They Say: “In the city, nothing is quite what it seems.  The handsome guy is not always Prince Charming and you can never tell a wolf by his big teeth.  An ensemble piece exploring what really happens after ‘once upon a time…’”

Ann’s Take: As promised, the Eleventh Hour Ensemble turns the Brothers Grimm on their head. Two “wolves” attack each other, in ways of which Grandma would not approve. Spacey “Cinderella” can’t get his act together, while “Prince Charming” has his political career to consider. “Gretel” has one coming for the witch in the office. And, the “frogs” are just not that into the high-maintenance “princess.” Twisted is loosely based on the fairytale canon, knowing exactly when to lean on our prior literary knowledge and when to dive off into fresh, new territory.

Seven souls in search of happy endings cross paths in the bustle of DC, while a mysterious author looks on, scribbling in his notepad. The central stories revolve around a budding romance between teacher and student, the dating debacles of one hard-to-please twenty-something, and a caterer’s search for someone to love him, or at least someone who will come home after promiscuous romps.

These stories wrap together, not so tightly but believably enough, into an underlying exploration of the human need to create our own choose-your-own-adventure (and the writer’s block that often results). Characters plead with the author for happier plot lines, their fate in his hands. At other times the author questions the characters’ choices, emphasizing their own free will. The subtext is maybe less developed than the quick-witted script, but as Fringe-goers we’re not intending to see a magnum opus, right?

One of the joys of watching the piece is to feast upon the ways in which Twisted uses timely material, including some hilarious census worker bits, to support the reimagining of the Grimm brothers’ work. The Ensemble has also peppered the script with District references delivering guaranteed roars from the audience. Who doesn’t love a fable that includes the pink cupcake truck? Special shout out to the intentionally awkward dance breaks in the middle of the performance. They sometimes made the show feel a little homemade, but when the interludes worked, they did their job well.

Under the superb direction of Jennifer Crooks, the remarkable acting and clever creations of the Eleventh Hour Ensemble make for a perfect Fringe show. Funny, wise, and just under an hour, Twisted leaves its audience wanting just a little bit more.

See it if: You’re ready for Little Red to come of age.

Skip it if: Birds help you get dressed in the morning.

The Apothecary

1013 7th Street NW

Remaining Performances:

Friday, July 16 at 6:30 p.m.
Saturday, July 24 at 6:00 p.m.
Sunday, July 25 at 11:00 a.m.

They Say: “We won’t ignore you.  We have a relationship.  We are powerful.  Sentimental.  We transgress, practicing and perceiving agression.  We are you, and we are alien with all the potential to connect.  Cryptic, valuable, subtle.  We are elephants, huge and hidden.”

Ann’s Take: Lights up.  We watch for an uncomfortably long time as three women stand naked, palms open, moving only the corners of their mouths into an occasional smirk. Standing evolves to walking and searching and then some crawling, each set solely to the humming of the lights above.  All of these simple elements, and the unending time it takes to perform them, could make you search for the nearest exit. (Maybe there’s still time to catch that improv comedy show receiving rave reviews.)  But, what you must trust is that this seemingly pretentious opening section sets up choreographer Kelly Bond perfectly to crash through the famous fourth wall, pull the piece out of the “performance art” doldrums, and coerce the audience to accept the performers as humans accessible in the space.

The piece expertly threads a variety of concepts throughout its 40-plus minutes.  At times the three women stare back like caged animals, perhaps hoping we’ll throw them a banana, or quietly giggle, building to cathartic chortles by all in the room.  But, they engage most deeply when they converse verbally with the viewers.  While it is not new for performers to address the audience directly, Bond cleverly reaches out to her audience and employs innovative ways for the audience to reach in. The thrust stage aids this effort, allowing us to watch the reactions of our fellow audience members.  Are we really going to participate in this?, we ask one another with our eyes.  That guy over there complied with her request.  All right, I’ll do it too.

Elephant inspires herd mentality at its best.

In case you’re wondering, you are not going to have to shout out hilarious scenarios for the dancers to act out, nor are you asked to strip down and join them on stage.  But, Elephant leaves open the possibility that maybe you can.  The performers pushed our boundaries as an audience, but we never really pushed back.  We were, as the women would goad, polite spectators.  I’m tempted to go back again to see how a different audience participates in Bond’s work.

I would have liked to see Bond explore her ideas about “presence” a little more fully (and maybe for a little longer), thus bringing the piece to a more satisfying end.  Perhaps she will expand the piece in a future restaging.  On a technical note, it was often difficult to hear the performers speak.  The guy sitting behind me had to crawl through a sea of church pews, hand cupped around his ear, to get a better listen.

Full disclosure: You have to indulge the performers a bit as they build to the payoff moments, which takes some concentration.   It’s also a really, really naked piece.  If either of those things are not your cup of tea, you probably won’t want to buy a ticket.  But, then again, in the spirit of Fringe, maybe you should try a little Chai instead of your usual Earl Grey.

See it: You should see it.

Skip it: Don’t skip it.

The Apothecary

1013 7^th Street NW

Remaining Performances:

Friday, July 23 at 6:00 p.m.
Saturday, July 24 at 3:45 p.m.
Sunday, July 25 at 2:15 p.m.

They Say: “Chameleon is a multi-disciplinary presentation about global citizens who have been exposed to several cultures in their developmental years.  Exploring the notions of home, cultural identity and relationships through film, spoken word, theater, photography and dance.”

Ann’s Take: I’m going to start off by saying that I have never seen a piece that specifically explores the identity of Third Culture Kids, a term that describes someone who has spent significant time in more than one culture as a child, thus integrating elements of those experiences into a third culture. (Note the 26-word definition.)  I didn’t even know the category existed.  Feminist, transgender, gay/feminist, biracial, anti-feminist, and ethno-trans-feminist-queer-centric experiences all abound in the “identity performance” world.  So for the reason of fresh subject matter alone, I give kudos to Chameleon.  That director Alaine Handa uses a full arsenal of disciplines to explore this topic – film interviews interspersed throughout live dance performance set to text and music – is even better.

The highlights here are the film clips documenting Third Culture Kids’ thoughts on the definition of home, their connectivity with the people they’ve met and moved away from, and even an interviewee’s preferred meal on her deathbed.  Not sure how the last is particular to Third Culture, yet illuminating nonetheless.  Handa presents some thought-provoking anecdotes on what it means to grow up with many homes or no real home at all.

But, what may be an interesting subject using a lovely array of artistic genres doesn’t quite make the leap past creative sociology project to fully-developed, artistic work.  The overall execution is competent, and at times the dancers’ technical performance is impeccable, yet the piece is missing a big, thematic rubber band to hold it together in an aesthetically satisfying bundle.  The choreography, in particular, seems a bit superfluous, iterating the movements seen in your standard technique class and lacking insightful connection to the other components of the piece.   I leave open, however, the possibility that Chameleon will become more cohesive in the rest of its run: The program notes upcoming performances will include four additional sections not shown during the first weekend.

See it if: You’re thinking of taking the Foreign Service exam. (By my estimate, that should be about a third of DC’s twenty-somethings.)

Skip it if: You’re bitter there is no academic term to describe the cross-cultural identity you have formed after living in both Alexandria and Arlington.

The Attack of the Big Angry Booty

The Bedroom

Remaining Performance: Sunday, July 26 at 7:00 pm.

They say: Dieting sucks!  Whether it’s 1 pound or 100 pounds losing weight is never easy.  Come experience the roller coaster ride on the one hellish trip that we all will eventually have to take, getting in shape.

Ann’s take: Have you ever gone out for happy hour with your coworkers, and there’s that one colleague who won’t stop with his stories about the various and ridiculous customer interactions he had that day… and you laugh politely but you’re really thinking, ‘it is not a unique experience to have to deal with difficult people and these stories really aren’t that funny’… and he’s not letting anyone else have the floor during his little stand-up routine… so you just sit there, for an hour, silently sipping your half-priced vodka and soda until you can finally blurt out that you have to leave immediately to pick up your dry cleaning before it closes?  Les Kurkendaal is that coworker, and The Attack of the Big Angry Booty is that happy hour, minus the cheap drinks.

This one-man show is a mishmash of vignettes about the clients Kurkendaal met during his two-year stint as a Jenny Craig counselor in West Hollywood commingled with the man’s own tale of losing 20 pounds. While this isn’t necessarily bad material, Kurkendaal never quite hits a satisfying punch line.  Instead, we get the first few minutes of a stereotypical dieting story—fear of exercise, lack of fast-food willpower, etc.—before Kurkendaal abruptly moves on, having failed to bring the previous anecdote to any sort of fruition.  Lengthy explanations of Jenny Craig protocol and meandering lectures on improper dieting practices further slow the piece.

Script aside, Kurkendaal is a charismatic performer.  While his delivery could use some polishing—there were frequent stalls while he gathered his thoughts—his expressive eyes and camp-counselor enthusiasm were engaging: The reenactments of his clients’ temper tantrums will take you back to your days as a summer retail associate!  Plus, he’s a fountain of useful diet tips.  Did you know a vodka and soda only has 100 calories?  Hundreds of dollars in Jenny Craig dieting advice awaits you for the bargain cost of a $15 ticket.

See it if: You’re ready for the next Richard Simmons (sans shorty shorts and tank top).

Skip it if:  You have to pick up your dry cleaning.

Remaining Performances: Thursday, July 23 at 10:15 pm.  Saturday, July 25 at 7:00 pm.  Sunday, July 26 at 11:15 am.

They say: In a studio apartment, Lawrence and Joanna live in a world of their own making with Edna and Claypone.  How long can they keep real world outside?  What happens if reality comes through the door?

Ann’s take: Lanford Wilson’s Home Free gives its audience much to unravel as it follows the muddied logic of Lawrence and Joanna’s aberrant, make-believe world.  Psychological disorder drives the piece, and we have much to sort through as we piece together the mystery of what’s so scary about the outside world.  Social taboos abound in this one-act, but there is an eloquent innocence in Wilson’s deviant world, providing a nice tug-of-war on the audience’s sensibilities.

At its 1964 premiere, the piece surely touched some nerves, and viewing Wilson’s one-act in this context provides a nice period  snapshot.  But in the present time, a straight-up, standard production of the work somehow lacks the impact necessary for me to describe it as anything more than proficient.  Of course, with all of the bodacious antics and creative oddities of the Capital Fringe Festival, it’s hard to compete.  Adeptly performed by its cast, it takes few risks, rendering the piece rather unremarkable.  That said, there’s nothing here to offend the senses.  If you’re in the mood to see a solid one-act that’s maybe a little less fringe-y and a little more traditional, look no further.

See it if: You’ve been meaning to see a Lanford Wilson play.

Skip it if: You have one show left in your 110 Proof Pass, and you want to use it for a “must-see.”

Not Your Granny’s Revolution

Remaining Performances: Wednesday, July 22 at 6:15 pm.  Thursday, July 23 at 8:00 pm.

They Say: A storytelling play created by Laura Zam (“A name to know”-The Washington Post) and ensemble cast.  What does it mean to be a woman in today’s world?  Five females find revolution in a Paris tryst, a royal beheading, and fighting AIDS.

Ann’s Take: Long ago when I was in college, my good friend began embracing the term “chick” as an appropriate way to describe a new generation of feminism.  I think “chick” is a rather brilliant signifier, describing female-specific content that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Plus, this coinage reclaims the word from its more demeaning form (an activity socio-political-activist-types adore).   So, at the risk of scaring off male audience members and pissing off old-guard feminists, I’ve decided Not Your Granny’s Revolution is a chick show—that is, a show about chicks who have moved past the sensitive diatribes and onto the self-aware humor of personal discovery.

The show features seven vignettes by five female writers/performers, all participants in Laura Zam’s local solo performance lab.  (Zam, though, does not appear in the show; nor do her stories.)  While each performer’s technical ability varies and some pieces are reminiscent of a college Women’s Studies open mic, the content is captivating.  A common theme of female self-reliance holds the pieces together, but beyond that the stories are wildly different – engagement stories, activist stories, childhood stories.  No piece grows stale.  No piece is self-indulgent.  And yes, even men will find them funny.

See it if: You like good stories told by witty women.

Skip it if: You think the theater has enough female voices now that Eve Ensler gave us The Vagina Monologues.

Sex, Dreams, and Self Control

Remaining Performances: Thursday, July 16 at 6:30 pm.  Friday, July 17 at 10:00 pm.  Saturday, July 18 at 7:00 pm.  Sunday, July 19 at 3:30 pm.

They Say: This rites of passage tale presents itself bold and racy, and speaks loudly about sexuality and religion.  With an original alternative folk rock score in which Kevin Thornton croons like a young John Hiatt or a post-Smiths Morrissey.  One guitar.  One man.  A wild ride.

Ann’s Take: I hope years from now we’ll say, “they just don’t write songs like Kevin Thornton used to.” Accompanied by gorgeous guitar riffs and a sweet, melodic voice, no written description can do his songs justice.  You need to hear the refrain “After bible study hand jobs…We’ll read the word of God and then throb…” set to music to understand fully how poignant his lyrics can be.  And lucky for you, you can, tonight and every night this weekend.

But this one-man show is no mere set of folk-rock ditties; Thornton’s got some some rather revealing inter-song chat.  Chronicling his memories of his childhood underwear sanctuary, romantic involvement with a mannequin, procurement of a gay-to-straight self-help book, and a myriad of boy crush stories, he leaves no detail (or STD) unexposed or absurdity unexploited.  But his vivid confessions never dwell on the negative.  Even the most harrowing descriptions are turned on their head with a tender smile and a reminiscent glow.  And this small but important choice moves the “how I learned I was gay” solo performance genre into new, refreshing territory.

While the show is mostly about sex and partly about Christianity, it is also about references to the 80’s.  How long has it been since you thought about Designing Women? Too long, I imagine.  And, remember those Columbia House free mail-order cassette deals? Even the pre-show soundtrack featuring Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody has the audience bopping along with happy anticipation that they are about to be flung back 20 years.  (I saw you chair-dancing in front of me, Gray-Polo-Shirt Guy.)  Thornton’s careful placement of these details adds a richness to the piece that pure, graphic commentary cannot accomplish on its own.

So, to recap.  You’ve got: youth pastor finger-wagging;  a thousand-headed Richard Simmons monster; and a song about hand jobs.  I suggest you take $15 out of the ATM and get down to the Goethe Institut immediately.

See it if: You’ve ever come of age.

Skip it if: You’re looking for something to watch with your 12-year-old niece who is visiting from the Bible Belt.

Cover Me in Humanness

Remaining Performances: Wednesday, July 15 at 7:30 pm.  Saturday, July 25 at 2:30 pm.

They Say: In the National Gallery, a statue stirs.  Everything changes when this ancient voice begs to be freed and a quiet girl stops being quiet.  Four hearts murmur through air thick with technological chirps and Footloose in this mysterious new one-act.

Ann’s Take: Cover Me in Humanness was lovely.  And, in the sometimes slapstick, fart-joke, snarky, esoteric, experimental, deviant world of Fringe (all good things, mind you), it’s nice to have a little lovely once in a while.

Jake Jeppson’s one-act asks, with modest prose and light-hearted humor, “What’s beneath one’s surface?”  Through a cast of three humans and a rather bossy ballerina statue, each longing for connection, we find that intimacy ain’t so easy.  For starters, the wax replica falls in love (or maybe in “need”) with her security guard Nigel, which uh…poses some challenges.  Then there’s Beth, whose inability to share anything about herself inadvertently causes both the guard and her local video store clerk to helplessly chase after her.

Everyone is stuck in some way, but no one plays stuck better than Meghan Nesmith (Beth). The character’s  hesitant behaviors are performed with such knotted energy that you  sense internal collapsing every time she moves or speaks.   Her uncertain tone pairs nicely with Matt Pearson’s (Nigel) blunt, monotone conjectures on art and life.

But, stuck is a temporary state, because dance brings these lost souls together.  Line dancing, classical ballet dancing, “kick off your Sunday shoes” dancing.  (The rumors are true.  A young Kevin Bacon makes a video appearance.)  This show weaves a whole lot of dance into the plot, without doing much dancing…thankfully.  (Not every Fringe production needs to break out in jazz hands.)  If you like dance, even just a little bit, you’ll find the script provides a nice love note to the art form.

The production is not without a few weaknesses.  The statue’s soliloquies dabble in overwrought profundities and do not balance well with the rest of the work.  The video cues and editing could use some smoothing out as well.  And, if you are familiar with the rather famous sculpture they portray, you know it depicts a 14-year-old girl, making the whole infatuation with the adult security guard kind of creepy. These are minor bumps, however, in a journey that was well worth taking.

See it if: You’re down with talking inanimate objects.

Skip it if: You hated Footloose.

Remaining Performances
Sunday, July 12 at 2:30 pm.  Thursday, July 16 at 9:00 pm.  Thursday, July 23 at 6:00 pm.  Sunday, July 26 at 6:00 pm.

They Say: 2 short plays: Count Dracula lost his creativity because the FDA doesn’t accept gays blood… now Drac needs a good man to suck!  Then, a man dies and returns to life with power to foretell the future.

Ann’s Take: Clever occasionally, disjointed primarily, Scot Walker’s two shorts deliver as advertised without adding much more.

The first piece, Count Dracula’s Cafe, tells the tale of two vampires who take over a Starbucks in an effort to attract the gay blood they desperately need.  The how’s and why’s of their struggles are never fully fleshed out because the 10-minute sketch is really just an opportunity to crack a steady stream of not-so-witty gay one-liners.  Like, Liza Minnelli one-liners.  I challenge you to come up with a gay cliché that wasn’t covered in this sketch.  After every “suck” joke was exhausted, the stand up routine abruptly ends with a well-meaning but  unsophisticated discussion of the Supreme Court.  Fringe bonus points for delivering political message through a barechested man in hotpants.

The evening’s second piece , Molasses Toast and French Fried Eels, attempts a more serious look at life and choices.   Kenneth, the quintessential common man, dies, comes back to life,  and proceeds to predict the deaths of his three companions.  Really, really long predictions that struggle to add value to the story.  For those of us who mustered the strength to pay attention until the end without nodding off to stare at the ceiling tiles, we are rewarded with a conclusion that can only be described as – Huh?  I’ll leave it at that.

The scripts could have benefited from some serious red ink, but a patient Fringe-goer  may catch the rare, well-timed quip lurking within the clumsy dialogue.  I do recall smiling once or twice.  Plus, the cast is endearing.  You can’t help but root for actors trying to enunciate “homosexual” in ill-fitting fangs.

See it if: You want to know how toast and death are similar.

Skip it if: You actually want to know how toast and death are similar.