One more recommendation. Not a review, because (a) I’m not really a dance critic, and (b) my other half used to perform with this company, so even if I were I’d probably recuse myself.

But if only as one last reminder that this year’s Fringe has been a bit more multidisciplinary than it was in years past, I thought I’d point out what the WashPost has to say about the Tehreema Mitha Dance Company’s contribution to the festival.

I’ve always been impressed by the technique and the focus Tehreema and her disciples exhibit in the more traditional Bharatanatyam repertoire — that’s some heavy-duty stuff — and by the expressive range she finds in both that material and in the classical-contemporary fusion pieces she choreographs.

So check ‘em out, if that’s the sort of thing that appeals to ya. Three shows left: Tonight at 8:30, Saturday at 5, Sunday at 5.

Several commenteers (the extra “e” is purposeful, in the vein of “buccaneers” or “racketeers”) have requested a daily open thread for purging purposes.

So…what’s turning you on?  What’s turning you off?  What’s turning you around in circles?  Good God, please, tell us!

What: OmegaBand
Who: You
Where: The Baldacchino (607 New York Ave NW)
When: Tonight, 10 PM - 11 PM
How much: $0
Why: Why not?

I struggle with plays about the Iraq War. On Sunday, I saw Jack Gilhooley’s The Warrior, and it was probably the best Iraq piece I’ve seen. Still, I can’t say I enjoyed it, nor did I find it very dramatically compelling, and as I left the theater I realized that I have never seen what I consider to be a “well-made” or “good” play about the war in Iraq.

Before I go on, let me clarify a few things. As Tammy, the main character and documentary subject of the play, Marietta Elaine Hedges is quite remarkable. She gives an emotionally draining and extremely passionate performance. The play’s content is also dense, well-developed, and rife with conflict. The whole experience is very disturbing, and I left the theater unsettled, as I gather was the playwright’s intention.

But on the whole, I found The Warrior dramatically unsatisfying. I don’t expect to like or enjoy plays about the Iraq War. But I do expect a play to be a play, and in the various Iraq pieces I have seen, there seems to be a trend towards politically virulent, dramatically unsound playwriting.

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A theater critic burns through memo pads at a fast clip. Mine get filled up with the stuff you’d imagine they would: bits of dialogue, a lighting cue, dashed-off descriptions of a set or a costume. For me at least, the notes are little more than mnemonic street lamps, each one lighting up a few minutes of the play I just watched. I don’t often write down anything I’d consider real criticism, unless, say, I’m just not buying what a given group of performers is selling and I can’t put my finger on just exactly why until I hit on a word like tentative - that stuff, I’ll write down.

But my notes also contain, ah, other stuff. Lookit: if the bf doesn’t wanna join me when I review something, I tend to go alone. And when I do, I do what everyone who sits alone in a theater has done since Seven Against Thebes was packing them in.

No. Not that. There’s zoning. Also: ew.

No: I eavesdrop the hell out of you.

Here’s some of the pearls of - let’s be generous and call it wisdom - overheard during Fringe.

“No, we’ve never been to Fringe before. We’re from Annandale.”
Matronly sort at Cat-Headed Baby, blithely asserting a cause-and-effect relationship where one doesn’t necessarily exist.

“I dunno. Do they grab you and make you come on stage? I hate that. It’s like, dude, I’m paying you to watch you.”
Skeptical teen perusing fliers at Fort Fringe, expressing his conviction that “audience participation” is oxymoronic in nature.

“…Antonin Scalia’s favorite restaurant…”
I’ve overheard this phrase, or a variation thereof, every time I get within 20 feet of Fort Fringe. I imagine Fringe staffers hear it on the hour. Please stop.

“Did you get that thing where she was in the shower?”
Furrow-browed young woman leaving Born Normal, confessing her slow-on-the-uptakeness in re: one of the show’s more abstract jokes. If you’re reading this: It took me a while to get that, too, but I think she’s talking about sperm. Or crabs, possibly. No, probably sperm.

“Are you seeing the arms on that guy? [Grunt.]”
A slightly tipsy admirer of the male form, shamelessly objectifying one particular Dizzy Miss Lizzie castmember.

“Well, I haven’t had any of my patients die unless it was just their time.”
Nothing to do with Fringe, really, except that we overheard it over a post-Born Normal Guinness at the Fox, and, seriously: WHAT? Listen, Dr. Calvinist: My time, schmy time – I get wheeled into your ER with a sucking chest wound, I need to see a little more hustle from you.

Got any more?

I Like Nuts! (The Musical)
Studio Theatre

Remaining performances:
Saturday, July 26 @ 4:30 PM; Sunday, July 27 @ Noon

They say: “Horatio likes nuts. He really, really likes nuts. Join Horatio and a cast including a Robot, a Pirate, a Vampire, and two Squirrels on a musical quest for nuts, knowledge and Norwegian fish balls. Including the musical numbers ‘Girls Don’t Like Adventure,’ ‘Everyone I Know is a Moron,’ and many others!”

Brian: Hey Ted. I like I Like Nuts!! I like I Like Nuts! a lot!

Ted: I’m not surprised. Why did you like I Like Nuts! so much, Brian?

Brian: Well you see, Ted, the show was a true expression of itself. The players were as earnest in their mounting of this goofy spectacle as Horatio Hornbeam (played with plain-faced nut naïveté by Nick Greek) was in his quest to follow the sagely nut guru’s orders, help Rob the Angry Squirrel find his long-lost nut tree, bring a robot, vegan vampire, pirate, and a guy named Gary all the way to Norway, and then soak up enough nut-knowledge to get his dream job at the nut factory.

Ted: Wow. You used the word “nut” like forty times there. Way to go.

Brian: What did you like about the show, Ted?

Ted: I liked the old dude.

Brian: Oh, you mean Jeff Baker! Wasn’t he super?

Ted: Beyond super. That guy transformed from faux-Hindu guru to disaffected nightclub owner to doddering old codger to overenthusiastic, anaphylactic neighbor faster than you can say “anaphylactic neighbor.”

Brian: Did you know that I’m actually a prophylactic?

Ted: What? You’re a condom?

Brian: Nipples!

Ted: Excuse me?

Brian: Nipples! I loved the part with the nipples!

Ted: Oh, you mean the scene where they twisted and tweaked and titillated each other’s–

Brian: Shhh! You’re going to spoil it for everyone! Why don’t you tell us something you learned from the show.

Ted: Oh, well, yes, I Like Nuts! was very educational. I think the most important lesson I learned was about all the things that aren’t nuts, including (but by no means limited to) coconuts, polka dots, corn, and “very small rocks.”

Brian: Yeah, all that was news to me as well. To think I’ve spent all these years putting polka dots in my brownies.

Ted: I love your brownies.

Brian: Thanks dude.

Ted: What was the most important thing you learned from the show, Brian?

Brian: I learned that despite mediocre singing and lagging tempo (they did it faster at the preview a few weeks back to grander effect–you can check out the video below to see for yourself), a show can still be more fun than a barrel of freaking monkeys.

Ted: Yes. It was an exercise in taking one thematic joke and actually making it sustain an hour’s worth of entertainment. The SNL skit-to-movie formula in successful action.

Brian: So, what’s the take-home, Mr. Ted?

Ted: I’d say see it if you want to renew your faith in the non sequitur.

Brian: Touché. And I’d say skip it if you’ve misplaced your epipen. Or if your co-worker used it to get high last Tuesday night and still hasn’t gotten you a replacement like he promised.

Ted: Um, yeah. I’ll get on that.

After the jump: that video we were talking about.

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A kindly commentator by the name of Rory left the following beneath Trey’s pube-centric “All in a Day’s Fringe” post:

Why can’t I find a place to post comments about shows that were not reviewed? I LOVED the “Diamond Dead” show and cannot find an appropriate place to share.

To Rory, we say: it’s folks like you that keep us honest.

And so, with less than a week left in the festival, we at Fringe & Purge were thinking it’s about time to solicit a sort of civilian roundup. This is your invitation to weigh in on what rocked, what tanked, and — especially if you’ve got any backstage scandals or barroom stories to share — what went down at your Fringe.

At the MLK library on Monday, the folks from the Molotov Theatre presented a workshop on stage blood in the style of the old Grand Guignol in Paris. It was a rather sanguine affair, just slightly depraved and a lot of fun. We got to mix our own blood (and eat it, since it was made of corn syrup and food coloring), and then several of us received wounds of various shapes and sizes. I have to say I was quite pleased with mine: a long gash down my right bicep, with a bit of bone showing, some shards of muscle, and an inordinate amount of blood. You can read more about my adventures walking around town with this repulsive injury–as well as learn about the most assassinated woman in history–after the jump. But first, check out this utterly stomach-churning video:

Trouble viewing? Try the YouTube version.

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All right, that’s it for me folks.  I’m about to go see a little something called Yearning to Itch: What Waitresses Will Do For Tips.  We’ve also got our army of guest reviewers, as well as Trey Graham, Glen Weldon, and Ted Scheinman out there watching and writing all over town.  So check in at all hours to for updates on what’s worth seeing and what’s worth skipping.  

And if you’re bored in the meantime (and for some unacceptable reason you’re not out seeing a show), check out another Post piece on DC Fringe, this one by Ellen McCarthy.

The phone’s ringing again, but now no one is here to answer it.

Curtain time is drawing nearer and nearer, and you can smell the excitement (and stress) here at Fort Fringe.  Or maybe that’s just the faint odor of parmesan cheese that still lingers like an olfactory ghost in the corridors and kitchens of this former Italian restaurant.  Either way, I have to say it’s kind of appetizing.

In any case, here are some photos.  The highly-hyped Baldacchino (a colorful reinterpretation of fixtures like this one at the Vatican): 

And the inside:

And the retro-red box office:

And the rat traps, all in a row: