For the third time in four years, the ReAct theater company has been ripped off by thieves. In 2003, a break-in at the Bathhouse Theater cost the do-gooder company (which donates all its profits to local charities) $3,000 in stolen camera equipment and costumes. Last March, somebody stole $1,500 of electronics from ReAct's backstage at Hugo House. Last week, artistic director David Hsieh stopped by their Public Storage locker (two days before opening night for the current play) and found it pillaged. Among the stolen items: costumes, donated stage guns, and a 13-year-old unopened case of beer bought as a prop for ReAct's first show. (ReAct's current play, To Gillian on Her 37th Birthday, is a sad two-act about a depressed widower who has cloistered himself in a beach house and the family members who try to pry him out of his solitude. They succeed.)
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Heather Moody, a local office manager, wanted to see The Pillowman (Martin McDonagh's play about violent short stories, petulant cops, and murder), and bought tickets for seats that didn't exist. An online ticket broker sold Moody a pair of tickets for the 18th row—but ACT only has eight. She eventually figured out she'd been had, got a refund from the ticket broker (which immediately stopped selling the fictional tickets), and ACT gave her a pair of "great seats," gratis, to The Pillowman.
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In keeping with the petty-theft theme, I attended the opening of 9 Parts of Desire at the Seattle Rep and, unable to find any outlaws associated with the production, swiped a cookie from the concession table. The play, based on interviews with Iraqi women, is excellent as documentary, but so-so as drama. The set, with its tiled walls and crumbling concrete, is impressive. The cookie, full of chocolate chips, was pleasantly moist.
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Backstage at the Moisture Festival, cheerful assistants and a magician drank beer while dancers futzed with their skirts, an acrobat wiped off his face paint, and a clown shouted at a German musician running past:
"Hey Hansi! What'd the woman say after 14 orgasms?"
"Danke, Hansi."
Everybody laughed. "Hey!" Another clown turned and narrowed his eyes. "You stole my joke!" Everybody laughed harder.
