Review - Street Theater

I don't normally write things about shows that are put together by dear friends, since I have no objectivity.  Well, very little objectivity.  But, last night, I finally saw a play that I should've seen many times over the years and it just never worked out.  And I was completely slapped in the face by it, so I think that requires a review.

Over the years, I've done readings for TOSOS theater company; I love and revere its artistic director Mark Finley, and I was fortunate enough to get to know one of the company's founders, the late and truly iconic Doric Wilson (you can read about some of my memories of Doric and his memorial service HERE).  TOSOS had done several incarnations of Doric's play Street Theater, but for some unknown reason, I was always out of town when it performed.  It became kind of a joke.  When TOSOS announced there would be a production at the Eagle bar this month, I knew my time had finally come.

It's quite a trek to get over to the Eagle, but it's a fantastic site for a play like Street Theater.  A raucous, glorious slice-of-gay-life piece that takes place on the day of the Stonewall riots, Street Theater being staged in a small, dingy old NYC gay bar with the audience sitting all around the performers is genius.  There's an excitement and a breathlessness that you can't always conjure up when you're sitting five miles away from the stage.  You're up close and personal with all of the fantastic performers, who you get to know intimately over only 90 minutes or so.

photo credit: Duncan Pflaster

Honestly, it's sort of miraculous at how well you get to know these characters so quickly.  It's a tribute to the writing, the performers and the direction that the connection happens so quickly.  I laughed and nodded appreciatively at the smart and funny way things unfolded - the dialogue was so true and funny, the characters were honest and interesting.  They could've all been colorful clichés, and maybe they were, but they were clichés turned on their sides because of the razor sharp writing.  I got so emotionally connected to everyone that the play just flew by and I felt I was truly inside what was happening.  And then...the last ten minutes.  Suddenly, I was sobbing.  Again, what I was watching and experiencing was so raw and so honest, I couldn't breathe.  The play ended and I couldn't speak either.  Afterwards, all I could do was hug Mark Finley, my dear friend and the genius director, and just sob "I miss Doric."  I didn't really know how much until I saw Street Theater.  Oh, how I wish I could've seen the show earlier so I could've told him how hard it hit me.  I think he would've liked that.  Or not.  You never knew with Doric.  That was his charm.

Sitting from my spot of straight white girl privilege, of course, and as a liberal, I thought I understood what happened in those days (and, in fact, what still happens now, on a different level).  I thought, oh I see, I empathize.  But the ending of Street Theater just smacked me and I suddenly realized, no, I don't see.  I can't.  I can't know or truly understand.  And my heart breaks.  I'm actually kinda crying now, so I guess it's a good thing my boss is out of the office today.  I still feel all excited and breathless and weepy and laughing and all the wonderful things that Doric put into his play.  The utter authenticity that came from his actually being there just rings through and through my brain.  That, my friends, is something that theater does like nothing else. 

Please, go see Street Theater.  It only has two more performances at the Eagle, tonight and tomorrow night.  I've heard a rumor it's sold out, but I think if there's a big enough clamor for tickets, they'll squeeze you in.  This play needs to be seen.  We need to remember, not only Doric, but the struggle.  And how better to try to understand than by remembering and laughing and crying.  Together.