Birdie Blue
Seattle Repertory Theatre
Through Dec 16.
It has practically become a genre of its own: An African-American
woman at the end of a long life reminisces and regrets her way through
an hour-and-a-half play. The last example of this genre in Seattle was
the horrible Etta Phifer’s Testimonial Shoe Kismet at ACT
Theatre last June. The latest is Birdie Blue at the Rep and,
on the whole, it’s an improvement.
Velma Austin plays Birdie Blue, an old woman tiring of looking after
her third husband, who’s becoming infantilized by Alzheimer’s (played
to so-believable-it’s-hard-to-watch effect by William Hall Jr.). She’s
also got an estranged son (a very menacing Sean Blake), a snooty sister
(blissfully underplayed by Sean Blake in drag), and an abused neighbor
boy who likes to wear Birdie’s clothes (Sean Blake again, sweet and
conflicted this time).
Cheryl L. West’s script gets the most out of her characters,
protecting them from the cloying aroma of sainthood. Thankfully, Birdie
is a bit of an asshole—she nearly beats her husband when he shits
his pants—and she unleashes a bitter, antiwhite tirade that’s
refreshing to hear from an elderly African-American lady. Austin,
onstage the entire time, perfectly conveys the weary rage that develops
in a caregiver.
Birdie Blue has a pseudo-surprise ending, one that’s
supposed to invoke a scandalous hot-button issue, especially for the
gray-haired Rep audience. Austin’s performance, though, is so clear and
empathetic that there’s no controversy in the conclusion; it’s just the
story of an imperfect woman making a difficult decision. To get people
talking about its “surprise” ending, Birdie Blue would have to
make a bigger deal of Birdie’s choice and risk turning itself into just
another issue play. But it’s better than that—Birdie
Blue is a showcase for three actors doing very good work. PAUL
CONSTANT
The Big Friendly Giant
Seattle Children’s Theatre
Through Dec 30.
The play was about a big friendly giant. And a girl who can’t sleep
and lives in an orphanage, and her name’s Sophie. And then the Big
Friendly Giant took her to Giantville and he was the only friendly
giant. There were evil giants and they were awesome. The evil giants
ate people during the night. They had to find out a way to stop the
evil giants. They mixed the dreams that the Big Friendly Giant caught
and then he blew the dream to the Queen of England. It was funny when
the queen was asleep and she grabbed for the little stuffed-animal dog
and her feet stuck out of the end of the bed.
Well, after that, the queen met the Big Friendly Giant and she told
the air force to capture the evil giants, which I thought was evil,
because the evil giants are cool. So then, everybody from everywhere
dug a hole, 25 football fields wide—or maybe 5—and 25
swimming pools deep. (They didn’t show us, but that’s okay.) Once they
had captured the giants, they put them in that hole. And then it ended
happily ever after.
I didn’t really like the last scene, because the evil giants didn’t
get a happily ever after. Evil people never get a happy ending.
KESKAH GOETTING, AGE 10
The Dina Martina
Christmas Extravaganza
Re-bar
Through Dec 31.
I’ve been reviewing Dina Martina shows since before you were
born—since before I was born—which raises the
question, “Why bother reviewing her yet again?” Let me lay a little
perspective on you: On this wonderful road that is the Dina, there’ve
been shadowy, unhappy potholes, especially during her Christmas shows.
I wouldn’t want you to stumble into one.
See, there’ve been moments—moments you probably never read
about, or even suspected—when the seemingly infallible
psycho-drag magic of Dina spiraled into dark and futile territory.
During one recent-ish Christmas show, we glimpsed the terrible future
and found that Dina will be a shivering indigent sleeping in a
vestibule. Once, she plunged us into hell. Once, she shot herself in
the head. (Um… this is Kreesh-mish?) She concluded one
holiday show with a scene so depressing, my fingers refuse to type it.
Some shows seemed to have ended before they began.
But this year’s Extravaganza is Dina distilled to her
finest; all the Dina you want, none of the alarming suicide aftertaste.
She’s every bit the camel-toed Christmas angel your heart hungers for,
wielding a big bag of strawberry-flavored gummy bacon and mispronounced
holiday cheer. She’s worked up fresh songs and video interludes, and
from the first beat of her opening number (“If you’re looking for
Kreesh-mish, it’s all over my face…”), it’s X-mess gold. My
cheeks burned and cramped, I tell you, from laughing so hard. She waxed
melancholy at moments (two, specifically—”The Christmas Song” and
her colorful rendition of the Ice Castles theme), but it was a
harnessed, yuletide-appropriate melancholy that made you want to hug the
stuffing out of her, not make a mad dash to a crisis-prevention
hotline. It’s perfect Dina in a perfect dose, and among holiday shows,
it has no equal. ADRIAN RYAN
