If really bad theater were really good theater—and sometimes it is, don't ask me to explain—then Bad Actor Productions would be the creamy crème de le crème of really good-bad theater. Really.
You know the Bad Actors: the hell-bound gang of perverts, acting-school dropouts, fags, drunks, unemployable sociopaths—led by a couple of emotionally unstable and garbage-mouthed drag queens—responsible for such fabulous tragedies as Exorcist: The Musical, Designing Women, Super Females!, Desperate Liaisons (which was supposed to be called Dangerous Lee Press-Ons, by the way—but, Jesus, don't ever bring THAT sore subject up), and maybe others.
Billie Jean: The Legend is their latest travesty. It's a tense, righteous, sexually charged tale that begins with a bully, a boy, a boy in a dress, and a beloved scooter; crescendos with a fiery battle cry ("Fair is fair!"); climaxes with a thrilling haircut; and ends in the dirt. (And in this version, all the girls have penises.)
The staging is beyond terrible. For a getaway car (lots of scenes take place in a getaway car!) we've got some folding chairs, and the actors say, "SLAM!" as they mime-close nonexistent car doors. And then they go, "Eee-er-ee-er-eerr!" as they mime-roll-down invisible windows. The best: a string of the shimmery blue fringe you recognize from used-car lots, strung up waist-high, turns into a lake. As the characters mime-dive into it, they say, "SPLASH!" The spirit of the thing is an inside dirty joke, fueled by alcohol, driven by hysteria, told by your weirdest friends—in this case, Em'ma Gawd (Patrick Emrock) as Billie Jean, Jayson Potter as little brother "Binx," and Craig Trolli as a fat and foul-mouthed trailer-trash girl with Dorothy pigtails and revolting menses. The Bad Actors play it just right.