All That Glitters

On Richmond theater's high holy night, all I can do is dress up, walk five blocks and settle in for the show.

The scene: the November Theatre for the 10th anniversary of the Richmond Theater Critics Circle Awards, aka the Artsies. To put that in perspective, the Artsies began on the cusp of the new world order: the year the first iPhone was available.

A non-event for me then and now, the difference being I am now a complete anomaly and not just one of the less connected.

A decade on, the Artsies involve blasts of smoke and confetti falling from the ceiling, the constant shrillness of screaming girls next to me (an unearthly pitch that hurt more than the noise of a punk show) and reminders to actors to limit their speeches to one minute.

Please, they're actors.

As it turned out, that was a non-issue because one presenter and eight winners weren't in attendance for a variety of reasons - just moved to NYC, at a rehearsal, couldn't find a sequined tux - so the show just moved along.

Some non-attendees planned ahead, so when "In the Heights" won best musical direction, a stand-in could share, "If you know Ben Miller, you won't be surprised that he sent words to read." Nope, no surprise there.

One of the most hilarious moments came early on when the lovely and talented Georgia Rogers Farmer took the stage to such thundering applause that she had to curtsy and wait for the crowd to settle down, "Please!" she squeaked with her mega-watt smile over an absolutely gorgeous dress, "I'm a professional!"

Cut to row F, seat 5, where I am sitting next to Melissa Johnston Price's best friend from college and in front of Alexander Sapp, tonight's big winner, it turns out.

Having marveled at just about every performance he's ever done, I shouldn't be surprised that he plays an audience member with everything he's got, making him among the loudest at applauding and shouting affirmations when nominees are announced and winners called to the stage.

When he won Best Supporting Actor, he dazzled the crowd with well-deserved praise for the local theater scene, warning newcomers that, "People who come here from New York or Chicago, L.A. or Terre Haute, you better bring your "A" game!"

It was positively inspiring.

Proving that he was worthy of being part of the cast who won Best Acting Ensemble (for "Toxic Avenger," with the entire cast wearing some shade of toxic green) for more than superior acting skills, when Dean Knight won Best Leading Actor (along with the stellar Jeremy Morris for "Top of Bravery") and began praising such unsung heroes as stage managers, Sapp called out, "Dean, you classy guy!"

He then showed his own classy guy cred by praising the other nominees when he won best actor, but only after saying, "Holy shit! Thanks, Richmond, I'm in love with you!"

It's mutual, I'm sure.

Cut to jokes about the longevity of actors in this town - Jill Bari Steinberg admitted to 39 years in theater and Michael Hawke (who couldn't resist tossing out, "Trump is still an asshole!") to 50 years, and you have some idea of how theater talent can thrive here.

When Grey Garrett won best actress in a supporting role for a play for "Rabbit Hole," she immediately began singing the praises of getting to ask a Pulitzer Prize-winning author questions about his play as the cast worked on it.

Cut to Debra Wagoner winning best actress in a leading role/musical for her masterful turn in "The Toxic Avenger" and bringing it down to earth by saying her feet hurt and her contacts were dried out and it had been 10 years since she stood up there to say thank you. Too long.

When Dawn Westbrook won the same award but for a play ("Grand Concourse") she began by saying, "I have just two words: TheatreLab!" and praised the upstart company to high heaven. She then assured the people who had seen the play that the cat was alive and doing great (significant because in the play, it had died due to neglect).

When Nathaniel Saw won for best direction/musical for "In the Heights," he seemed genuinely touched. "This marks one year of me being in Richmond. Thanks for welcoming me into this beautiful community!"

Of all the unexpected presenters, our former first lady, Anne Holton, showed up to deliver the awards for best play and musical (after some mild ribbing about how it feels to lose to a narcissist) to "Grand Concourse" and "In the Heights."

As another year of Richmond theater was brought to a close, all the glamorous people headed across the street to Quirk to celebrate while I made my way home to change out of glitz and into everyday to meet an old friend from D.C. for conversation and laughs, always lots of laughs.

Seven years we've been friends and he still waits until the last minute to alert me that he'll be in town, so I can't help but razz him about that.

I found him in a dark corner at GWAR Bar eating, but convinced him it would be far more pleasant to be outside in the warm, humid October night than in the frigid air conditioning with heavy metal screaming from the speakers. The windows were dripping with condensation from the contrast inside and out.

Call me a good salesman, but it was an easy sell.

Apparently we weren't the only ones looking for night air because Saison Market's patio was full, so we settled for an indoor table until a prime spot opened up outside.

I'll give him this much: he's a master with words (and likes to tell me that he gives better words than any man I know) and not at all shy about teasing me about my "gentlemen callers," as he likes to call this non-existent group, among whom he counts himself.

But his best line came about during a discussion of his older brother, with whom he has a fractious relationship these days.

"I'm the last person to talk to about norms, but I do know what a norm is," he claimed, despite hours discussing the freelancer life we both live. Can't say that I do, but I'm also decades into being non-norm.

Please, I'm a professional.

Artsies Fever, We Know How to Show It

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight to get through this thing called the Artsies. Preferably before midnight.

Many things happened at tonight's Richmond Theater Critics Circle awards show, many of them in glittery shoes and sparkly clothing.

I wore neither, yet the man who won "Best Actor in a Leading Role, Musical" complimented my ensemble as sexy and demure ("How are you pulling off both?") and referred to his own striking suit as looking "like a couch."

For the record, few couches are that shiny.

Naturally, things got topical. There was last year's Best Supporting Actor - a child actor, mind you - playing the Donald in a blond wig and patriotic ball cap and, when challenged on his fitness to do so given his diminutive stature, responded, " My hands are the right size!"

When the cast of "Green Day's American Idiot" did a medley, it involved a figure in a Trump mask and the entire cast finishing by giving the audience the finger. I like to think they were really giving it to Trump.

Calling a spade a spade, the Best Actor in a Supporting Role, Play called Richmond Triangle Players the "best-run theater in town," and he should know having worked for almost all the others as well.

Even her move to D.C. didn't prevent last year's Best Actress in a Play from being the butt of jokes about her frequent nude scenes, from showing up as a presenter tonight and from reminding us that we are more than a piece of ass.

Winningly, the multi-talented Best Actor nominee in both leading and supporting roles sang a song with green frog hands on.

Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" became the basis for the winner of Best Actress in a Lading Role, Musical and the winner of Best Director, Play to imagine a gospel-inspired MLK musical set to the Purple One.

One of the actors who was part of the deserving group who won the Ernie McClintock Best Acting Ensemble award - the one who's leaving us after five years for a bigger sandbox to show off in  - announced, "If you're not seeing TheatreLAB's shows, you're not really paying attention."

Five awards tonight? Everybody should be paying attention by now.

Because last years's winner of Best Director, Play was unable to attend, her esteemed Shakespeare leanings became the basis for jokes involving tests, balls and cunning linguists set to iambic pentameter.

Behold a 97-year old dancer (who could have passed for 75) accepting an award for Ongoing Contribution to Richmond Area Theater who not only did a few dance movements when she walked onstage, but also said, "I'm grateful to have had a long lifetime in order to achieve so much."

The young 'uns (particularly) in the audience gasped audibly when her age was given and clapped mightily when she sashayed offstage.

Just as moving was the 87-year old actress and mezzo-soprano accepting the same award and sharing her black history in the process. When told by a restaurant server in her youth that, "We don't serve n****rs here," she had the presence of mind to answer, "We don't eat 'em."

And when she told us to hold hands with the people on either side of us, we did while she prayed for a less divisive country and better treatment of women.

One critic's reviews were mocked as too short and another as too long. Both statements were true.

The audience went nuts when nominees for Best Supporting Actress, Play and Best Actor in a Leading Role, Musical sang "Suddenly Seymour" with charm and drama to spare.

There was more Girl Power than you could shake a stick at, like last year's Best Actress winner pointing at another actor in Colonial garb a la "1776" and saying, "This is what a President looked like in the past," and then doffing her own Revolutionary costume to reveal a sexy red dress underneath.

"And this is what a President will look like in the future!" Hear, hear.

Oh, and for the record, 5th Wall does more than "plays where smart women holler at each other." Why is it "hollering" when we do it and "discussing" when men do the same?

You'd never hear the Dowager Countess say such a thing.

Pickin' Up the Pieces

Drama queens, as you might expect, were rampant at the Artsies, this year also known as the "ratcocks."

Anything to get a chance to say "cock" as much as possible, right?

Because I have no dramatic abilities, I can put on a purple cocktail dress, 4 1/2 inch platform shoes with feathers and a wrap featuring a Picasso painting and fade right into the woodwork in this crowd. Photos, we were told, should be tagged #ratcocks, so I tried to stay away from the cameras.

The Richmond Theater Critics Circle Awards are the annual excuse for the theater community to put on cute but painful shoes, dress up as over the top as possible and scream like banshees when a friend or production gets mentioned from stage.

And that's not even the official entertainment.

That came courtesy of our hostess, the multi-talented (star of cabaret and domestic goddess) Georgia Rogers Farmer, who not only managed to name-check every nominated play to the tune of Madonna's "Vogue" but finished the opening number by doing a handstand which caused her skirt to drop over her head and reveal the letters "RTCC."

Safe to say that photos were taken and immediately tagged.

Anything for art, right? The youngest winner, Brandon McKinney, closed out his acceptance speech for "Caroline or Change" by instructing the roomful of adults, "Make sure you are always making art!"

After BJ Wilkinson won for outstanding achievement in lighting design, he made a succinct speech, ending by saying, "Now I have 600 steps to climb to get back up in the booth."

The show must go on and all that.

Jokes were made about the critics who'd voted on the awards - critic most likely to be a know-it-all, critic most likely to go on about a cute actress - and people nominated, as when Bruce Miller talked about a second career as a bartender, but not at the level of Evan Nasteff, actor and barkeep extraordinaire.

Some presenters used the moment to pass the torch - last year's winners Jacquie O'Connor and Jeanie Rule passing on their tiaras to this year's recipients- while others used it to make time.

When Alexander Sapp and Doug Schneider came out to present the supporting actress awards, Alex suavely greeted the applause with, "Thank you, ladies" and smiled his most debonair smile. Doug looked out and said, "Good evening, gentlemen," getting just as many squeals.

To finish the first act with a bang, Matt Shofner as Hedwig paraded down the aisle to screaming adoration, lips and cheeks covered in glitter, to perform "Tear Me Down," with the band from TheaterLAB's production playing plastic toy instruments behind him while the real band backed them up.

With explicit instructions to take no more than 15 minutes for intermission, this crowd too as long as they wanted to schmooze, smoke and drink before ambling back to their seats.

Georgia kicked off the second act singing about "ratcocks" to the tune of Blondie's "Rapture" and surrounded by Audra Honaker and Evan in giant costumes that resembled the awards themselves dancing around her.

Unfortunately, the show, which Georgia said ran 70-some hours the first year, was already running long not far into the second act, causing her to admonish us, "Let's pick it up. Mama needs a drink."

The guys singing "Nothing Like a Dame" from "South Pacific" got the crowd worked up, especially with those lyrics coming out of some unlikely mouths and guys like Matt caressing their own form when singing about a dame's curves.

The biggest non-surprise came about when Bruce Miller and Irene Ziegler announced Desiree Roots had won best actress in a leading role in a musical because earlier on, the envelope with her name in it had been opened and read by mistake.

"I'm so surprised!" she joked when she got to the podium. Not.

The new theater alliance panel was announced and introduced onstage and while yours truly is a member of that, she didn't get the memo about when to go backstage so was saved the trauma of having to stand up there and face the masses.

On the plus side, overly exuberant artistic director Deejay Gray, sitting directly in front of me, did turn around and start pointing. "She's right here and she looks amazing!" Still better than having to go onstage. Non-actors belong in the audience.

"And now the moment you've all been waiting for!" Georgia, the domestic goddess, called out and began tossing little baggies of bacon out to the audience. I didn't get one originally, but a lovely actress nearby did and turned to me, saying, "I don't eat bacon."

Fortunately, I do and dispensed with that bit of pig flesh in a flash.

Some categories looked like duplicate listings with the same named repeated more than once. Joey Luck was nominated four times for outstanding achievement in sound design and beat out the competition of one other sound guy.

Ditto Jan Powell, nominated for directing both "Equivocation" and "Hamlet," who heard her name called but not the play. Once onstage, she turned to the presenters and looked quizzical. "This is for 'Equivocation,' right?"

Once the final ratcock had been awarded, people began streaming across the street to Graffiato's for the afterparty (coincidentally, also the scene of the pre-party, but with more people) and a chance to revel in wins and put on a brave face for losses.

But most importantly, a chance to cure what ailed our hostess and countless others: Mama did need a drink.

Flying solo, I must have looked like I wanted to talk because several well-lubricated people came up and introduced themselves, a prime opportunity to talk theater with strangers in between catching up with the familiar faces, tipsy and otherwise.

With the ratcock crowd, even mingling at a party is considered making art. Alcohol and drama queens are just part of the process.

Legs M.I.A.

My legs were covered day and night and that tells the whole story.

Sunday night, it was a black burnt velvet dress (purchased by a former boyfriend back in 1997 at Lex's in Carytown) that ended at my feet, the better to fit in for the black-tie Richmond Theater Critics Circle awards (aka the Artsies) at the November Theater.

Considering that my skirts always end well above the knees, my full-length attire was cause for comment.

"You look beautiful but what did you do with your legs?" I was asked in the lobby pre-show.

Put them away for the night?

After hearing that I looked swanky, I explained that that's like telling someone they look casual. I got an amended, "You look really good," far more complimentary to my ears.

One of the evening's hosts, Michael Hawke, came onstage and yelled, "Good evening, Richmond bitches!" setting the tone for a raucous evening celebrating local theater.

Not that I'm partial or anything, but Matt and Maggie, hosts of the monthly Ghost Light Afterparty, did some of the funniest awards presenting, using every possible opportunity to crack wise.

"Look at this! Everyone's in costume, everyone's wasted, clearly this is GLAP!" Matt joked before Maggie clarified it was the Artsies.

When they went to announce their first award, he yelled, "Wait! We have to have a drum roll!" and pulled out the GLAP bongos a familiar sight to regulars.

"I'm still not convinced this isn't the GLAP," Matt said, playing it to the hilt. "I'm pretty sure I saw Karen at the bar."

"I'm gonna go look for Karen!" Maggie said, using me as an excuse to leave her hosting duties and get a drink.

And while I wasn't at the bar (I was in my seat like a good attendee), it's always good to get a solid shout-out from the GLAP crew.

As if an evening with my assets hidden wasn't enough, I took a day to go to the country to traipse through the woods at the invitation of a friend.

The invite came with a warning, though.

"I know you're not fond of long pants but I'm going to recommend you wear a pair and some shoes suitable for hiking so we can trek through the wilderness."

What are these long pants you speak of, friend?

But I took the caveat to heart, went to Diversity Thrift and found a pair of jeans that I was told looked straight out of the disco.

Hip-huggers, multiple zippered pockets front and back, wide bell-bottoms and only $5.25, they were about as groovy (and cheap) as they come.

If there'd been a disco on the other side of the state forest, I could have gone there directly.

Instead, I spent most of a day wearing jeans, so rare an occurrence for me that I can tell you the last time I had denim obliterating a view of my gams.

February 2009.

I'm not expecting to put jeans back on again anytime soon, because what's the point in having good legs and not showing them off? Twice was more than enough.

Okay, maybe if I get invited to the disco.

And the Award Goes to...

I got to play dress-up tonight because no cute boys were available.

My friend the theater critic hadn't met anyone he wanted to invite to the Richmond Theater Critics Circle Awards so he settled for inviting me.

"It's formal," he wrote. "Do you have a nice evening dress?'

Conveniently, I do and I can cover up my legs when it's required.

Despite me not being of the sex of his dreams, my date was gallant enough to pick me up since driving in a full-length dress is a pain.

The evening began at Popkin's for a reception and the first person I saw was singer Desiree Roots in a dress with a train.

A train. In Popkin's. Think about that.

After schmoozing and glad-handing for an hour, we moved across the street to the Empire Theater for the awards.

I didn't see many open seats and the crowd was a lively and stylish one, so it felt more like a seated party than a stuffy awards banquet.

And because these were theater people, there were not one but two intermissions to allow people time to get their drink on.

The entire show had been scripted with loads of inside jokes and lots of theater humor, including critic roasting.

When two of the presenters talked about acting versus teaching, one said that the advantage of teaching was that you could send difficult students to the principal..

Or even suspend them.

"I know some critics I'd like to suspend," actress Susan Sanford cracked. "From a bridge. Or a tall building."

Singer Susan Greenbaum asked co-presenter UR basketball Coach Chris Mooney why he'd wanted to participate, given his non-arts occupation.

He answered, "I'm not really known in this part of town." The audience loved that.

One of the biggest laughs went to Anne Holton when she was asked about the high points of being First Lady.

She mentioned the Queen's visit in 2007 and the challenges of learning all the protocols required.

"Thank God there are no queens here tonight," she deadpanned.

Another good pairing was Culture Works' John Bryan with DJ Melissa Chase.

Talking about the contribution of costume design, Bryan said, "Without costumes, theater would just be a bunch of naked people sitting around."

Pause. "Like in radio," he said.

"Hey, we wear headphones," Chase corrected him.

But it wasn't just banter. A song from each of the nominated musicals was performed throughout the evening.

Favorite lyric: "I'd rather be nine people's favorite than a hundred people's ninth favorite."


I, too, aspire to be nine people's favorite. I just want some say in who the nine are.

Like any awards show, there were surprises.

The very first  award winner wasn't present.

Another acknowledged how surprised she was with her win by saying, "I was so unprepared that I'm still chewing gum."

The very talented Alan Sader got my vote for most dapper evening attire for a male in his red plaid kilt and high socks.

He looked magnificent accepting his award for Best Actor in a Leading Role in a Play (for King Lear).

My money is on him winning next year for playing Big Daddy in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."

Best Musical was a tie between "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" and "Title of Show," prompting comments about RVA having room for the biggest musicals as well as the smallest (budget).

I had just turned to my (critic) seatmate and commented that Henley Street Theater hadn't won anything (she gave me a cryptic smile) when lo and behold, they won Best Play for "Last Days of Judas Iscariot."

When all was said and done, the crowd was well-lubricated, a bit hoarse after so much yelling for favorites and savoring the camaraderie of the Richmond Theater community.

What else could we do but go for munchies and rehash it all?

My handsome date who opened doors for me and introduced me all night long by saying, "This is my date. Isn't he pretty?" and I were joined by another couple at Third Street Diner.

Over diner food of nachos, cheeseburger, chicken fingers and fries (in our defense, they were out of lettuce), we watched a waitress clean the floor with the vacuum cleaner strapped to her back.

We talked about gay men with girlfriends for beards and which lecture topics attract lesbians.

And before we left, we ogled the contents of the vending machine at the front of the restaurant

Cigarettes, Advil, tampons; all the essentials of life were there.

Our server said the machine used to have candy and condoms, too but, alas, no longer.

Not that my date and I needed either. We were full and neither of us was getting that kind of lucky tonight.

Not that we hadn't looked fine enough to tempt a couple of (very different) guys.

We just didn't meet the right ones.