
Image by: instagram.com/jachristian/ – Jessica Christian
Self-dubbed “The Pope of Trash,” John Waters, off-color, rude, hilarious, and gay, wants you to know he’s providing a religious experience. At East Hampton’s Guild Hall, where you might think this subversive humor would not fly, Waters was greeted with loud guffaws and questions that let on, this was a room full of fans.
When asked by Andrea Grover, Executive Director, how with such “depraved” films as PINK FLAMINGOS and its sequel, DESPERATE LIVING, his brand featuring trans icons such as Divine eating her dog’s shit—we are going back to the ‘60’s, –Waters responded, “I’m not mean.” That’s a sermon in itself. When asked how he directed Divine just prior to this unforgettable, squirm-worthy scene, he replied, “I called Action.”
Of course, with HAIRSPRAY, the man who put Baltimore on the map, crossed over to mainstream, the hit film inspiring a hit Broadway musical. In a bit of genius programming, a few weeks earlier in the summer, Guild Hall had composer Marc Shaiman signing his new memoir, shared the Waters’ hits’ backstory. Performers wowed the crowd on, “You Can’t Stop the Beat.”
Gay takes on old-school meaning—as in gaeiety– with Cagney, a musical revived at Bay Street Theater. The actor James Cagney, star of many a classic noir, gangster flick really wanted to hoof it. The play hearkens back to the age when Hollywood studios determined creative paths. Pegged to play brooding roles, Cagney wanted to dance. Featuring a superb ensemble, including Melissa Manchester as Cagney’s doting mom, the musical climaxes with “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” as you would expect, with great tap work throughout.
The Accabonac Theater Project production of Jonathan Shoemaker’s Signs, set in Springs, speaks to the assumptions we all make across class and political lines. A young couple (Tracey Toomey McQuade and Nick Gregory) have a beef with the red signs displayed on the lawn next door. By the time the proud Bonacker (Loudon Wainwright III) steps on stage, you may be convinced he’s following a dumb party path. He invites his new neighbors to dinner and from the Barolo he serves to his knowledge of art—this is, after all, Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner country—he is not what you think, nor is the high-minded couple. In the end, Signs is a reminder of nuance, which requires neighborly collaboration and thoughtful compassion.
























