rv990127.htm

THEATRE REVIEWS:

“XXX LOVE ACT” at The Fritz Theater

and

“THE DYKE AND THE PORN STAR” AT 6 @ Penn

KPBS AIRDATE: JANUARY 27, 1999

If you haven’t had a bellyful of sex, violence and tough talk in the movies or the news, check out the theater – we’re in the midst of a veritable porn-fest. There’s “Making Porn” at Diversionary, “XXX Love Act” at the Fritz, “The Dyke and the Porn Star” and “Ballistic Femme” at 6@ Penn Studio. I thought I’d just pick two overripe fruit from this porn-ucopia, and for the rest, let you taste-test on your own.

At the top of my list is “The Dyke and the Porn Star,” a one-hour-one-act about sexual obsession, though it’s really about living up to expectations. Reality bites, one might say, in this S&M world, and it will never quite measure up to fantasy. In 1990s San Francisco, Chance has a serious thing for porn-queen Tara Gold. Incredibly, they finally do meet, but though they are physically attracted and physically interactive, it’s a connection gone kerflooey, because they each have heavy-duty agendas… and not just who’s on top and who’s the bottom. For more on the subject of tops, bottoms, and butches vs. femmes, stick around at 6@Penn for Marie Cartier’s “Ballistic Femme,” a one-woman thesaurus of lesbian roles and relationships. Anyway, back to the pornster and the porn star, they each bring so much baggage to the bedroom, that, as Tara puts it, “There were too many bodies in one bed in one night.” The play is based on a true story about real-life porn-star Jeanna Fine, written by San Franciscan Bayla Travis, who showed up at 6@Penn the other night.

Dora Arreola directed with a firm hand, and her leading ladies respond to her touch: Gayle Feldman as a tough, funny butch who worries about her breath and her first-impression clothes, and the ever-excellent Leigh Scarritt, who’s blonde, beautiful, sexy, slinky and sadistic as Tara. Scarritt gets to show her true chameleon colors, coming into this femme/dominatrix role right after having played the sweet, shawl-wearing Grandma Who in the Globe production of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” But maybe she got prepped for this role in her spectacular turn as the shrieking, shrewish Queen in “Once Upon a Mattress.” In any event, on the small 6@Penn stage, Scarritt and Feldman really sizzle, and, under the keen eye of Arreola, they mine the piece for all its humor, sensuality and ultimate sadness. But be forewarned: there’s a scene with a whip (and oddly, some oranges), a quick glimpse of nudity and some mighty strong language.

But that ain’t nothin’ compared to what gets flung at you in “XXX Love Act.” Written by another San Francisco female, Cintra Wilson, this one bills itself as a “penetrating satire.” But there’s not a scintilla of humor, irony or sarcasm in sight. Everything is so on-the-nose – the writing, the directing and the acting – that it feels like you’re being battered by a B-grade documentary – for almost three interminable hours. That in itself is inexcusable for a piece so flimsy, and so gratuitously provocative without having any depth, content or merit. The story is very loosely based on the Bay area Mitchell brothers, who tried to bring porn flicks to the level of art form -- and failed. They did make “Behind the Green Door,” but they got much better press when one brother murdered the other. If you’re really aroused by the seamy, steamy underside of the porn movie universe, see “Making Porn” or the film “Boogie Nights.”

But “XXX Love Act” doesn’t offer enlightenment or entertainment. Some of Wilson’s writing is lush, mostly for the two supposed gonzo journalists, supposedly based on Hunter S. Thompson, who actually hung out with the Mitchells. But soon, the piece descends into the same hell as the characters, and everyone plays the same one note over and over. Only Jeff Blak gets to play a range – two notes: impassioned and overdosed. This isn’t Karin Williams’ best directing, nor the Fritz’s strongest artistic choice. They need to get back their focus and their edge. They just can’t keep believing that sex always sells; some sex just isn’t worth buying.