Within the first five minutes of Working Gurl, a gender-flipped parody of the 1988 Melanie Griffith movie, one of the tall drag queens deadpans to the audience: “You’ve never seen anything until it’s been slaughtered by drunken trannies.” The director, Tricia Beigh, craned her neck in my direction, presumably to check whether I was laughing. It was going to be a long night.
I was sitting in the audience on a kind of dare: I told Bad Actor Productions—with whom I have a not-entirely-amicable relationship—that I’d review their new show if they would seat me in the back row, on the aisle, so I could leave whenever I wanted. If I stayed through the whole thing, I promised to buy the 10-person cast and crew the night’s first round of drinks. But now the director was sitting just a few feet away and checking up on me, introducing a level of social obligation that upset the delicate balance we’d struck.
Bad Actor Productions has been tottering around in high heels and garish makeup since 2003, rewriting well-known movies and TV shows for maximum lewdness and drag-is-inherently-funny-ness. (Which is nothing new. Ian Bell and his Brown Derby Series have been kicking ass in that genre, with wittier satire and more delightfully vicious humor, since 1999.)
Because life is short and I don’t love drag for its own sake (it’s a means, not an end), I kept clear of BAP until 2007, when, in a fit of conscience, I went to see one of their productions—and started cursing my conscience five minutes into the show. I dimly recall drag queens, a day spa in “Oceanattle,” wooden delivery, and jokes about lattes and labia. I left at intermission, which kicked up static both on The Stranger‘s webpage and the blog belonging to Craig Trolli, one of the brains behind BAP, who complained that I was “lazy” and “too cool for stool [sic?] [sick?].”
Obviously, BAP and I weren’t meant for each other. But over the years, Stranger commenters kept dredging up the philosophical question: Is it acceptable for a critic to leave an execrable show before it’s over?
A few weeks ago, BAP asked for a review of Working Gurl and I wanted to think about the politics of leaving. So I sat in the back row, on the aisle, and endured. (Sample joke: A businessman asks Working Gurl if she can arrange a meeting with him on Tuesday. “Yes,” she coos, “I have a big, gaping opening on Tuesday.” Haw! Another sample joke, in which Working Gurl’s super-high friend agrees to do her hair. “I’ll do the drapes,” the friend says while waving toward her crotch, “but I should stay away from the carpet.” “It’s okay,” Working Gurl responds. “I’ve got hardwood.” Hardy har! ‘Cause she’s a DUDE! Hardy HAR!)
I really wanted to split.
Most people seem allergic to the idea of the theater critic bailing before the show’s over: It’s a critic’s job to watch the play, no matter how bad, and he should see every last minute of it before rendering judgment. But why? Is the food critic who sits down to a plate of black, slimy lettuce required to eat the whole thing before she can authoritatively judge that salad unfit to eat? Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.
Some will object to the food-critic analogy on the grounds that it’s remote. But only the theater critic and food critic have their consumption of the “product” publicly scrutinized. The book critic can privately skim a bad novel on his couch, the art critic can choose to look at an object for one minute or one hour, the rock critic can pop in and out of a show. The film critic with her stack of DVDs has the divine gift of fast-forward. (Screw invisibility and flight. As a theater critic, I want the superpower of fast-forward.) But the food critic will either finish her plate or not; the theater critic will either sit through the whole thing or bolt. And everybody who cares to know will find out.
Some will object to the food-critic analogy by arguing that rotten theater isn’t as poisonous to the mind as rotten food is to the body. But those people are wrong. Bad theater is bad for you. Expert witness: Epictetus, writing sometime around A.D. 100:
Most of what passes for legitimate entertainment is inferior or foolish and only caters to or exploits people’s weaknesses. Avoid being one of the mob who indulges in such pastimes. Your life is too short and you have important things to do. Be discriminating about what images and ideas you permit into your mind. If you yourself don’t choose what thoughts and images you expose yourself to, someone else will, and their motives may not be the highest. It is the easiest thing in the world to slide imperceptibly into vulgarity. But there’s no need for that to happen if you determine not to waste your time and attention on mindless pap.
It’s safe to assume that by “vulgarity,” Epictetus meant something more complicated than dick jokes. (The word has been used throughout history to describe common vegetables and no-fault illiteracy. Plus, Chaucer and Shakespeare loved a dick joke—”vulgar” didn’t become synonymous with bodily functions until some priggish English people hijacked the word in the 19th century.) The old philosopher probably meant something closer to “uninspiring.”
Critics work, for the most part, to guide their readers toward the inspiring and away from the uninspiring. They are not engineers of sewage-treatment plants, who must wade through acres of shit to point out every little fissure in the pipes. They are not teachers, who must slog through interminable term papers to diagnose every little problem with sentence construction. And they are certainly not cheerleaders, who must keep praising the team even when it’s a total disaster. Critics are discerners—bloodhounds, not oxen; epicureans, not stoics.
As for Working Gurl: Eh. Its plot (secretary climbs corporate ladder using her wits and genitals) is the same as the film, but dirtier. One character was rechristened “Mr. Analgash.” There were references to The Silence of the Lambs and the unpleasantness of shitting kimchi.
I stayed for the whole thing, but mostly because I wanted to be a good sport. I didn’t mind buying the first round.
But next time, I’m out of there. 
I’m making popcorn.
Really? Nothin’? I was counting on a show. If there were an equation for a fight in the theatre section, I would of sworn it was Brendan + intermission + exit. What a waste of popcorn.
I don’t agree that the critic’s purpose should be “to guide their readers toward the inspiring and away from the uninspiring”. Critics should try to explain WHAT makes the inspiring inspiring and the uninspiring uninspiring, and put it in context of other work in the same area. Critics should enlarge our understanding of how art “works” (when it does) and how/why we respond to it. Value judgments certainly flow from that, are implicit in it, but start to feel rather beside the point. Epictetus was talking about something that everyone does and should do for themselves as part of being alive, not the responsibilities of theater reviewers as a special class.
You don’t absolutely have to wade through acres of etc. to do this (though it wouldn’t hurt, and plenty of other occupations have their drudge-work so why should critics have it so easy?), at least not for print. If a particular show doesn’t give you enough to write about to fill the requisite number of column inches, why not write about a show that does? Walk out of whatever you want (and feel free to get over your self-righteous butthurt while you’re at it), I just don’t get why you think I as a consumer of criticism want to read about it.
Even your rave reviews often do not make me want to see the shows they praise, and now I see it is because they are trying to fulfill a function I have no need for (I can figure out what I want or don’t want to see for myself). I’m not as interested in, for example, physicality/”danger”/threat of “violence” or a burlesque/circus-y vibe as you seem to be, so most of the time when you’re trying to “guide” me towards another one of that kind of thing I find it easy to ignore (“not really my style”) if not actively repellent (“that sounds awful!”). If criticism’s primary function is value judgment, how does the reader know they aren’t being guided toward something that just happened to suit (or pander to) the particular values of that critic (often concealed as a definition of “what theater is,” etc.), which the reader may not share?
No idea why Bad Actor Productions asked you to review this, but I guess they couldn’t do what they do if they believed there was such a thing as bad publicity.
I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU CAN STOMACH THAT CRAP IN THE FIRST PLACE , I WOULDN’T LAST 2 MINUTES BUT THEN I’M NOT A CLOSET HOMO EITHER HOPING FOR A SLIP OF DICK PEEKING OUT FROM UNDER SKIRT. DRAG HAS RUN IT’S COURSE , AND SEATTLE JUST KEEPS IT GOING AND GOING. GIVE IT UP , IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE.
Wow Eric. What a seething, angry post. If you don’t like something, thats fine, but using inflammatory language toward a group of people who feel what they do is important and part of their identity is pure idiocy.
Grow up. So drag is dead to you, that’s fine. I think movies about football and war (glamorized, of course) and pranks that could kill me are some of the lowest forms of entertainment, but judging the straight male population for enjoying those movies would be silly. People like what they like.
I do agree that drag has the unfortunate habit of relying too heavily on sex jokes and bad puns. I have, however, seen many drag acts that are clever, complex ideas with lots of camp and glitter, but have more substance than your average fishnet soufflé.
And, yes, half the fun of drag is accepting salacious language, potential wardrobe malfunctions, and being shocked by gender-bending roles.
Eric, your chosen moniker explains your humor perfectly, don’t be a prick. Oops. Sorry. That was a dick joke…get it?
I don’t altogether disagree with Brendan here — when I was the Stranger’s theater critic, I sat through some real crap that my brain would be better off without (crap, I would like to say, from both the fringe and professional theaters).
But: There were a few occasions where the second act of a lackluster or outright bad production would have something that made me perk back up: An actor who brought something unexpectedly to life, a surprising flash of inspiration on the director’s part, or a passage in the script that held infinitely more promise than anything else in the play. While these things would not make me recommend a production, they would make me keep an eye out for that actor, or director, or playwright, to see if they develop into someone to really follow.
That’s another task of the critic: To provide some cultural memory, to pay attention to ebb and flow of talent, the growth of artists, and support those people who are going to have something to offer beyond any individual performance or production. By and large, Brendan does a good job of this, and 99% of the time a dull production is dull from top to bottom. But not always, and that’s why I’d sit through the entirety of every show. (Also — so I don’t seem like I’m painting myself as a saint here — as I’m also a creator of theater and was when I was a critic, the backlash against me walking out would have been that much worse.)
— Bret Fetzer (I’ve just tried three times to create an account here and it failed every time…)
I started to read this but got bored and stopped.
Bad theatre is worse than bad art, or bad pretty-much-anything-else. A bad painting is a bad painting, but a bad play is a bad play you have to sit through.
I say get out of there.
Working Gurl reminded me of those old Divine films… which were simply awful in quality, but there was something to them that hooked a very small, not necessarily defined niche of fans.
Some of this play held some promise had it been done better, but it seemed the company felt a dedicated need to stick to their chosen format and ham it up. Like those Divine films, I think it speaks to a small, not necessarily defined subset of our culture, and most everyone else just doesn’t see the value.
wellll i don’t hate drag per se I loved jhon waters work with divine the pinical (i dont know how to spell it and dont care grammar nazi’s) being pink flamingos , both sick and funny at the same time. especially the iconic poodle shit eating scene , but I will defend the critics right to walk the fuck out on bad theater. A lot of seattle’s drag just assumes a great deal that you just gotta love it because its drag and nothing else. bad theater is bad theater period , i don’t if you have a dick under your dress or not .
wellll i don’t hate drag per se I loved jhon waters work with divine the pinical (i dont know how to spell it and dont care grammar nazi’s) being pink flamingos , both sick and funny at the same time. especially the iconic poodle shit eating scene , but I will defend the critics right to walk the fuck out on bad theater. A lot of seattle’s drag just assumes a great deal that you just gotta love it because its drag and nothing else. bad theater is bad theater period , i don’t care if you have a dick under your dress or not .
wow wtf happened there?
What the hell, Brendan? We sat at the table across the aisle from you. We heard you LAUGHING several times during the show. Laughing out loud at some of the admittedly trashy jokes. So is your review padded with so much pap abut the philosophical quandaries that face America’s heroic theater reviewers? You can’t admit you enjoyed it even a teensy bit? As I recall, everyone else in the audience cackled at the bad jokes in spite of themselves, because we weren’t expecting hardcore professional theater. Jesus, get over yourself and lighten up a little!
I’m all for theatre critics leaving halfway through, as long as they are paid by the paper exactly half the going price for their reviews. The same for movie critics, book critics, etc, though they are not likely to be “caught,” for skipping out on half their job.
As for food critics, if you eat a bite of the bad lettuce you have a taste of the whole of the bad lettuce. Therefore, if you taste the food you order, you are doing your job.
I with number 14. Leaving at intermission is rude. Whether you like someone’s art or not, you don’t need to publicly announce that you don’t like it by leaving. When you look at a bad painting, often times the artist isn’t there to notice the public criticism of you walking away – or if s/he is there, they just think you are done looking at it.
Walking out in the middle of a show is just rude. Are you really so important you can’t stick it out for another 45 minutes/hour?
I had to endure two Bad Actor Productions early in the troupe’s “career,” and if I somehow found myself unexpectedly subjected to another of Mr. Trolli and company’s “productions,” I wouldn’t hesitate to walk out BEFORE intermission. Mr. Kiley, you showed amazing restraint by sitting through this one AND treating them to a round of drinks.