Upon a Midnight Pillow

It was exactly as I liked it.

A talented group of actors were putting on a Shakespeare play at Sycamore Rouge in Petersburg.

The room was small, the admission was free and none of the actors knew what play or role they'd have until they showed up at the theater.

Hell, the audience didn't even find out until 60 seconds before the play began.

Answer: "As You Like It," which I'd last seen in March of 2012.

Three of us drove down soul-sucking I-95 in time to get seats, but not all together.

And that's why we have discussions after the play is over.

What passions put these weights upon my tongue?

There were plenty of contemporary touches - a servant taking pictures with his cell phone, two ladies repeatedly high-fiving each other- and plenty of ad-libbing.

"He's an old one," quipped Orlando as his ancient servant Adam slowly trundled off stage. "He needs time."

Costumes were based on suggestions from the director, Adam Mincks, so we saw one character in shiny, yellow gym shorts with a matching headband, another with sideburns attached to the chin strap on his hat and a priest in a robe that looked more like a dress your aunt wore in the '70s.

Beauty provokes thieves sooner than gold.

There was a good amount of singing, sometimes to "Greensleeves" and sometimes to the theme from "Gilligan's Island" with a last minute ad-lib of "Mary Ann was hot" for those paying attention.

If I was a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me.

The play was funny because, well, Shakespeare wrote comedy well, but also because the actors took every opportunity to milk their lines for everything they could.

And why shouldn't they?

If you can't mug for a devoted Shakespeare-loving audience on a Saturday night, you may as well hang up your couplets.

I was just thrilled to sit in the front row and watch the spit fly. And for free.

Fortune reigns in gifts of the world. True story.

I Like My Strumpets

I was told more than once that I'll go see anything, no matter how obscure or obtuse, just to go out.

Tahitian acrobat cymbalists? Sure.  Moroccan throat singing mimes? Okay.

So naturally I perked up when I saw that the next in the Richmond Shakespeare Bawdy Bard staged reading series was just such a hybrid.

Improv comedians and Shakespearean actors doing, what else, Shakesprov.

Shoot, I was at Capital Ale House an hour before doors opened.

Don't tempt my sense of humor and my intellect unless you mean it.

I'd brought along an improv master (or so he claimed) to laugh with me.

When the host said we had to wait until 7:30 to go in, I asked of him the time.

Glancing at his watch, he told me it was 7:11, much to my amazement.

That's so cool that you wear a watch, I told him.

He instinctively went to thank me and instead got a knowing grin on his face and said, "Right?"

Right, indeed. We had a ten-minute conversation about the lost art of watch-wearing and I got a peek into why a 25-year old chooses to daily wear the watch his mother gave him for his eighteenth birthday.

Pulling it off his wrist, he pointed to the back of the face proudly. "No battery!" he boasted. "It's got a spring."

Just like in the olden days.

But food waits for no time talk, so we sent him on his way and began by scoring white chicken chili at the bar while waiting for the doors to open.

On the plus side, the cannelini was toothsome and the bits of fresh jalapeno added a nice heat to each bite. On the minus side, it wasn't nearly hot enough, especially on a frigid night like this.

Once the doors opened, it was an easy walk to a front table in the music hall.

Part of the beauty of comedy and iambic pentameter intersecting tonight was that it was happening in a bar, meaning we were supposed, nay, even encouraged, to eat, drink and chatter during the show.

You don't have to tell me twice (Cobb salad, chocolate cake and any number of asides).

The Shakesproving jumped right in with a game where two people had to argue the pluses and minuses of an issue thrown out by the audience.

You now, stuff like, global warming (yea or nay) or lead paint poisoning (good or bad?).

I see now that was just to warm us up, get our laughing muscles loosened up.

Next came a game called Replay where crowd suggestions formed the device, in this case, cross dressing, murder and love, all then executed Shakespearean-style.

The replay came in when they then had to redo that scene through other lenses.

We saw it done with hate, as a coking show and Al Capone gangster-style.

You might be surprised at how the same scene was funny all four ways.

The next game, Playwright, used technology, so I would have been useless to them.

Each of the four onstage had their phone set on the script of one of three plays (Othello, Taming of the Shrew, Julius Cesar), ready to use whatever lines from it they chose.

With an improv comedian to facilitate the scene between them, each actor had to use only lines from the play he'd been given to further the dialog.

When Adam grabbed himself and uttered, "I fear it is too choleric a meat," the audience about lost it.

There was a game where they had to mime pre-determined components of a murder (dog park, painter, gouging out eyes and then poisoning) and get the contestant to guess the scenario, "Clue"-like.

You can't imagine how amusing miming eye gouging can be until you've seen it.

Buzz/Ding, the next amusement, required the Bawdy Bard's guiding light, Kerry, to come onstage and, much like with Richmond Comedy Coalition's "Richmond Famous" nights, share tidbits about her life, job and friends.

It's overshare and then be skewered for it, pretty much.

From there, four of them improved Kerry's life while she sat there with a human "buzzer" and a human "dinger" and hit the appropriate one depending on how accurately her life was being depicted.

Hysterical as their depictions seemed to the audience, most of the time she was buzzing.

And now all the room knows her boss likes booze humor and bathroom jokes.

So, yes, laughter always comes back to potty humor, even with the Bard.

The longest game was Story, wherein we helped create a many-chaptered book while eliminating people from the stage.

"The Dark Prince Emerges," became the title by default when a man yelled it out first.

He continued to announce the name before each new chapter, varying his voice for dramatic value.

From there we had eight chapters, including a particularly enthusiastic and protracted one on breasts, nipples and milk.

The guys could have run with that all night, but Katie tried to curtail them eventually, suggesting we moved on from mammaries.

Aw, do we have to, their faces seemed to say.

There was a different component added in for each new chapter and whichever person lost the thread (sometimes in mid-syllable or final consonant) was eliminated.

Stacie ended up being last breasts standing, no small accomplishment.

The Dating Game used stock Shakespeare types - Ophelia, a rich father and sad blood (the most melancholy Thomas ever)- as the bachelors while the lusty bachelorette asked animated questions to find her Mr. Right.

Only occasionally did things get a little skeevy.

"We'll edit that out later," host David said to the studio audience more than once.

Soliloquy required any of the four people in the skit to stop and do a monologue when pointed to.

To their credit, each one was fearless about taking center stage with made-up words while all froze around him.

After so much effort on their part (all we'd had to do was cackle), we closed with a fun game, a little number called I Like My Strumpets.

We'd throw out something (clowns, chainsaws, Julius Cesar, ruffled shirts) and they'd take turns making analogies.

"Shakespeare used a lot of puns," host Matt said, "But he also talked about butts a lot."

So you can imagine where that took us.

I like my strumpets like I like my chainsaws...with teeth!

The women in the group quickly tired of strumpets and began using lords instead to convey their points.

I like my lords like I like my ruffled collars...a little rumpled and stiff.

Wah, wah.

So here goes.

I like my evenings like I like my dark princes...funny, smart and good kissers.

And they can mime their choleric meat, but I don't need to see it.

Of course, with Shakesprov, we can always edit that out later.

The Way I Am

I missed it at the New Orleans Fringe Festival, so I caught it here.

Not that I wouldn't have loved a chance to stop by the Bridge Lounge while in NOLA, but I didn't need to go that far.

"The American Girl Project" was being presented at The Shop, that random building that sits in Plant Zero's parking lot.

And it's a hell of a lot cheaper to get there than to the Big Easy.

Last time I'd been to the Shop, it had been for a video film festival way back in 2008.

Tonight was live theater courtesy of two (what else?) American girls.

With a series of scene cards, two suitcases and a coat tree of props, Kerry and Becca took us on a whirlwind romp through women's history in an attempt to figure out what makes the American girl who she is today.

They began by hanging up photos of some of their favorite men: David Byrne, John Lennon, Poe, Groucho and Alan Alda, to name a few.

From there, PBRs were passed out to a few in the audience, but I wasn't among them.

To be fair, I probably didn't look like the beer type.

The first scene was "Silent Movie: Annie" which introduced us to Becca as Annie Oakley, putting on her red lipstick (and without a mirror - impressive) and reaching out to shake hands in the audience, including mine.

When there was shooting, Kerry held up a sign that read "bang."

It was a silent movie, after all.

Another scene was called "Dress Code: Kerry and Becca" and each described her wardrobe preferences.

I'm with Kerry, who said she prefers shorts or short skirts to show off her legs.

Next was "Dress Code: Jackie" about JFK's wife's wardrobe and, yes, a pink suit was part of it.

Then there was "The Phone Call: Dorothy" and we were introduced to our third significant woman, Dorothy Parker.

She answered the phone with, "Dorothy Parker's residence. The newly resurrected speaking."

Ah, there is nothing like DP humor ("The typewriter is glaring at me" she says about being on deadline and idea-less).

We saw "The Interview: Annie" about the sharp shooter being interviewed by Buffalo Bill Cody, insisting that she'll appeal to audiences because she's a woman.

In fact, she chooses skirts over pants to make sure she reminds people she's a woman.

I do the same, lest anyone forget.

"List of Tricks: Kerry and Becca" was brilliant - a chance for each to sing her own praises, something far too many women do far too infrequently.

And theirs were worthy of praise, to be sure.

Kerry said she could hold her liquor and start a conversation with anyone.

Becca said she could sing and dance and she was very bendy.

Honestly, "List of Tricks: Annie" didn't have anything on our girls' bag of tricks.

One of the wittiest scenes was "A Poetry Reading: Dorothy" where we heard her classic "Resume."

Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acids stain you
And drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live

For "A Poetry Reading: Kerry and Becca" we heard a couple of poems from Kerry, including the poignant "Some Other Girl's Song," which Becca praised.

"Everyone likes sad poetry," Kerry joked.

Becca's poem, "When I was Young," came in song and plant form (she referenced rosemary, pansies and rue) as she played guitar.

We saw a scene of Annie's first shot at eight years old (she got the squirrel right between the eyes) and Jackie leading a tour of the recently redecorated White House.

What was cool was that Kerry and Becca traded off roles, so they both played Annie, Jackie and Dorothy, just at different times.

When it came time for "A Drinking Game: Dorothy," the girls began handing out PBRs in earnest and this time even non-beer drinking me was given one.

The game was that Becca was singing "Roxanne" and every time she sang the name "Roxanne," Kerry/Dorothy had to take a drink.

Every time Becca sang the words "red light," the audience had to take a drink.

"It's gonna get a little dicey at the end," Kerry warned.

Within seconds, the sound of two dozen beer cans being opened was heard.

Since I don't drink beer, I couldn't do my part but everyone else was having too much fun to notice.

By the end of the game, a drunken Dorothy poured drinks on her own head, proclaiming, "I win!"

The show finished with "A Complicated Dance" with a medley of woman-based songs seguing into each other and causing the two to dress as one character only to have to rip off the outfit and dress for another character.

At one point, the music was the Material Girl and Kerry said, perplexed, "We're not even doing Madonna!"

As it wound down, they were both on the floor and the music ended with "Once in a Lifetime" and the repeating lyric, "Same as it ever was."

So by the end of the production, without doing a formal summary or putting too much of a bow on it, we'd concluded that an American girl's life is pretty much the same as it ever was.

Seems we American women have the unique skills and determination of an Annie Oakley, the grace, culture and willingness to stand by our man like a Jackie and the pleasure-seeking, talent and self deprecation that a Dorothy did.

And some of us cloak all that in short skirts and tights, others in lace and belts and others in carpet platforms, each of us perfectly comfortable with our choices.

From this grown-up girl's perspective, that's the quintessential American girl characteristic.

To quote the inimitable Dorothy Parker:

But I shall stay the way I am
Because I do not give a damn

Same as it ever was, but better, too.

At least that's how this American girl sees it.

Lunatics, Lovers and Poets

Of all Shakespeare's plays, I've probably seen A Midsummer Night's Dream more frequently than any other, not necessarily by choice, but because it's performed with such regularity.

I added to that lifetime tally last night with Richmond Shakespeare's current version.

And I still found an awful lot to like in this latest staging.

With only five actors and assorted costume changes, 21 characters were brought to life in often hilarious ways.

My primary reason for wanting to see the play was the actor who played Theseus, Lysander, Flute, Oberon (and handled the puppets as Peaceblossom and Cobweb).

I had met Brandon Crowder once before and heard he was a terrific actor; he exceeded everything I had heard.

At times sniveling and pathetic, sometimes hysterically gay and also superb at playing the superior to his underlings, his every move was worth watching.

When he pranced, even his little toes were prancing and his lithe grace sprinting from tabletop to floor was a thing of beauty.

As a bonus, an actress I knew only as a fellow restaurant diner and avid reader, Kerry McGee, handled Hermia, Starveling and Puck with great aplomb.

She was lovelorn, simple and a troublemaker by turn and completely believable in each role.

Next time I see her reading while eating out, I'll have to interrupt and tell her how impressive she was.

This production will be the last for the troupe at Second Presbyterian's chapel and I, for one, will miss the space.

While it's not ideal with its long, narrow configuration, its wooden arches, balcony and Gothic ceiling were the perfect setting for period plays.

The upcoming new performing arts facility, Center Stage, will have some big shoes to fill if it is to be as well-suited a place to stage Shakespeare as Second Presbyterian and Agecroft Hall have been.

Listen to me...you'd think I was a native Richmonder, already lamenting the way things used to be.

Actually, I'm happy to see well done Shakespeare wherever I can find it.