So you're alone and undead in the world, your hometown
having been destroyed by the wrath of God, with your appetite for fresh virgin
blood eternally unsated. In
Charles Busch's riotous campfest Vampire Lesbians of Sodom, it's only natural
to resume a bloodsucking career as a glamorous 1920s silent movie star and a
modern Las Vegas
lounge diva…just good luck finding a virgin.
The Actors' Theatre of Washington is currently presenting
Vampire Lesbians alongside Joe Orton's dark, dark comedy Ruffian on the Stair
as an evening of one-acts aptly titled Tramps and Vamps. However, Ruffian turns out to be an
under-spiced appetizer to a grandly filling entrée.
Not that Ruffian on the Stair is a bad play. On the contrary, Orton's satirical writing
gleams like the blade of a brand-new razor. However, Matty Griffiths awkwardly juggles the plays tone, so that the full volume of
Orton's puckishly caustic voice is only heard in spurts.
The play concerns a middle-aged couple named Joyce (Rosemary
Regan) and Michael (John C. Bailey). A
petty criminal and a reformed tart, they live their lives with a veneer of
bourgeois civility cracked open by the arrival of a young hustler named Wilson
(Ashely Ivey). Wilson--whose brother was recently run over--proceeds
to threaten and stalk Joyce, and after convincing Michael that he means well,
makes life decidedly uneasy for the man as well. As it turns out, both have a connection to
the dead brother of Wilson, who, for all his flexible morals, is the most
sympathetic of the three.
The play is billed in production notes as a "dark-comedy
noir," and the play has elements of black comedy, psychological thriller and
drama. Yet the one-act isn't
particularly moving, holds only sporadic tension and is overall lacking in
laughs. There are some hilarious lines
too; during one rather unsavory sex scene, Joyce cries out "Not in front of the
goldfish!," whom she cares about more than the dead young man in question. This is not a children's play; it's cynical,
acidic stuff and Griffiths seems to be tiptoeing around this potential comic landmine, afraid to lose the tension and dramatic content. Emphasizing the humor of their actions
might help the audience care more about these morally warped characters, if not
necessarily for them; laughter can be a form of identification.
Regan has some affecting moments as Joyce, but excessively
speaks her lines in a shrill yelp; her performance could benefit from more
variety. Ivey lacks menace as the emotionally
troubled hustler, whose feelings for his brother aren't entirely
fraternal. Bailey gives the strongest
performance of the three. His Michael is
a quivering mass of abusive anger and wounded male pride.
After a somewhat dour first one-act, the second is pure camp
frivolity. Vampire Lesbians of Sodom is
a mix of Cecil B.
DeMille epic, Hammer horror film, Vegas revue and Fire Island
Halloween party. Directed with sprightly
wickedness by Jeffrey Johnson, it's a delectable little show—even if it's too
slight not to wear out its welcome a bit in the last few minutes or so.
Vampire Lesbians starts off in ancient Sodom, where a Virgin Sacrifice (a
dragged-out Rick Hammerly) finds herself about to become food for the voracious
Succubus (Nanna Ingvarsson, not dragged-out). Preferring vampiric lesbianism over death, the Sacrifice follows the
Succubus to an even more decadent 20s Hollywood,
where as Madeline Astarte, she steals the roles of DuBarry and Peter Pan—as
well as young starlets—from the glamorous clutches of La Condesa (who has told
one naïve starlet that "I shall film the story of…Sappho! I shall play…Sappho! You shall play her lesbian lover Rusty").
Of course, La Condesa is also an émigré from ancient
Sodom, and after Madeline again evades death at the hands of a frumpy gossip
columnist/vampire huntress, the two wind up in Vegas as, respectively, a star and a cleaning lady. Naturally, they end
a millennia-old feud with the realization they need each other....but not before Madeline (in a towering pink beehive) has lip-synced with the ensemble through "Don't Tell Mama."
