SMOKE AND MIRRORS: SEEING MYSELF IN SOUTHERN BAPTIST SISSIES

MUNCIE, IN—Southern Baptist Sissies, written by Del Shores and directed by Robby Tompkins, continues its run at Muncie Civic Theatre’s studio space through March 2. The show left me winded. I’m trying to understand its impact on me by writing about it. Too, I grasp at some way to say thank you for the ways theater can illuminate, quicken and confound. I mean these words to convey some sense of my gratitude.

SPOILER ALERT: These ruminations assume you’ve seen the show, and make little effort to conceal plot denouement.  




Smoke and Mirrors: Seeing Myself in Southern Baptist Sissies

At the intermission I chat with the woman seated near me. “How’s the play for you?”

“Interesting,” she says. “I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve never seen it before. How is it for you?”

“Personal. I see myself in nearly every one of these characters,” I tell her.

“Oh, really?” she says. (What else does one say to a stranger who threatens to self-disclose?)

I spared her the details, You, I’ll tell.

I see myself in Ethan Litt’s portrayal of Mark stuffing his rage and hate. What to do with the beast that eats the heart? How to release the pent-up anger without causing damage? Mark unnerves me in the opening scene—by his use of profanity in church, caustic commentary, willingness to give the religious authority the finger. Later he hurls a Bible across the room. I don’t like to see the way repressed anger shoots out sideways. At the same time, Mark embodies many of the traits he despises in the Preacher: bombastic style, rigid thinking, preening self-assurance. This portrait hits too close to home for my liking. This mirror’s reflection is less than flattering.

In the role of T.J., Chandler Chastain holds a magnifying glass to blemishes in my own character. With intense gaze, pointed looks and earnest tones he portrays a version of me I recognize with a shudder: the very sincere, sober, serious know-it-all; the self-righteous, Bible-toting, Bible-quoting boor. Vestiges of that person linger on within me yet.

I hardly need a mirror to see myself many times over in Andrew’s whole-hearted embrace of religion. He so badly wants to be good. He’s so ready to believe, so willing to accept the authority of the church in matters of the soul. Andrew is baptized at eight years old; I was five. Jake Rura plays up Andrew’s energy and enthusiasm, his open-hearted sincerity—we could be brothers. I hear my former self praying in his cries of anguish, see embodied my past life as he bends his lanky frame in self-recrimination, lets acid guilt roil in his gut.

It’s more of a stretch for me to see myself in Benny. In Mathhew Bettencourt’s portrayal, Benny is not the stereotypical drag queen, catty, acerbic, strong-willed, determined. He is neither flamboyant nor affected, but gentle and kind. He makes his own way in a world that wants little to do with him. Doing drag allows him to come into his own, express his inner self, live into his power and self-assurance. Like me, Benny performs better when given a role to play. Something paradoxical about it, I know—playing a role sometimes allows one to become more truly oneself. I’ve been there, have experienced the magic. Been labeled atypical, too. Duck stereotypes when I can.

A brief glance in the mirrors held up by other characters:

Mothers (Molly Casey): Well-meaning and misguided. Check. Willing to hand over personal authority to the powers that be in the church. Check.

Preacher (David Whicker): Passing on what he was taught, blind to the impact of what he’s saying, so sure he’s right. Check, check and check.

Brother Chaffey (Cody Ricks): Latent. Hoo yeah.

Preston “Peanut” LeRoy (Bryan Hamilton): Tired aging queen. Sounds familiar.

Odette Annette Barnett (Cheryl Crowder): Flawed. Funny. Good heart. Check.

Johnny Handcock (John “J.P.” Bechtel III): Exotic dancer, well-built, shapely. OK, so maybe I don’t see myself in every character….

Ensemble (Andrew Dalton): According to his cast bio, performing in his first show EVER. Therefore, brave, daring, venturesome. Check.

Ensemble (Kodie Egenolf): Doubles as assistant director. Therefore, hard-working and probably under-appreciated. Check.

Announcer (Sid Ullrich): Mouthy. Check.

"SISSIES" SIZZLES AT CIVIC THEATRE

MUNCIE, IN—Whole lot of preaching going on over at Muncie Civic Theatre's studio theater, and hymn-singing, and coming of age. Robby Tompkins elicits stand-out performances from four leading actors in a dynamic production of Southern Baptist Sissies by Del Shores that overcomes the script’s inherent preachiness to deliver a funny, moving piece of theater.

A preacher opens the play with fiery exhortations. Another Sunday in the Bible Belt. But no. One of the boys in the youth choir interjects a caustic remark, then another, and another. Ah, so the boy is now a grown man and the preacher’s words are among the memories of childhood he is sharing with us—memories that have lost little of their power to cut and wound.

How much power is made clear as Mark introduces himself and three other boys who grew up gay in a fundamentalist religion and church that relies on scripture to condemn homosexuality and demonize those who engage in it.

The tormented Mark (Ethan Litt) reacts in barely-supressed anger and rage to the mixed messages he receives both from the church and from his best friend and youthful love interest T.J. (Chandler Chastain): "come closer; go to hell." Litt's Mark moves at a furious clip throughout the story. He questions, argues, longs, and at last lands in a place that mingles bitterness with hope. 

Chastain offers a convincing portrayal of confusion, earnest denial and closeted self-righteousness. After an early taste of forbidden love, T.J. runs back into the closet and slams the door after him. 

On the surface, Benny (Matthew Bettencourt) has the easiest time embracing himself as he is. He lets his winning smile and ramrod posture carry him through life. As an adult he transforms himself into the fabulously outfitted country music diva Iona Traylor, offering high-energy lip-synched portrayals of such artists as Dolly Parton and Wynona Judd. Saturday night he drew whoops and cheers from his audience when he finished one number by doing the splits. 

On the other end of the self-acceptance spectrum, Jake Rura's sweet conflicted Andrew plots a tragic trajectory, turning in vain to family, church, and community for affirmation and support. He was able to bring forth real tears as in anguish he assailed heaven, "What's wrong with me? Why can't you love me?" 

Adding comic relief and ironic commentary on the whole affair is the oddball couple of straight floozy Odette Annette Barnett (Cheryl Crowder) and diminutive aging queen "Peanut" LeRoy (Bryan Hamilton). As Hamilton lends a sympathetic ear, Crowder delivers her one-liners with aplomb, and strikes the perfect tone in her more serious moments. Costume Coordinator Susan Lankford knocked herself out in dressing these two barflies. 

Undressing is the provence of John (J.P.) Bechtel III who appears as a male stripper at the bar. Musical Director Cody Ricks dons a red-sequined vest to serve music and drinks as pianist/bartender, doubling as church musician Brother Chaffey in traditional suit and tie. 

David Whicker's preacher is an instantly recognizable figure, and he strikes a balance between hellfire-and-brimstone delivery and caring, well-intentioned appeals. Molly Casey has the occasionally difficult juggling act of playing each of three mothers (“all but T.J.'s, cause his mother was dead, and that would be just weird,” Mark tells us). Ensemble players include assistant director Kodie Egenolf and Andrew Dalton (in his first stage appearance EVER, according to his cast bio—kudos to Tompkins for giving him a line to speak aloud).

Sid Ullrich's lighting design helps maintain focus and makes the most of limited stage area. The intimate studio space lends itself to emotionally-charged drama, and Tompkins delivers plenty of this.

At odds with the performance is the large and complex stained glass window that dominates the stage. It seems better suited to a Greek Orthodox cathedral than a traditional Baptist church. The window serves as backdrop to much of the story. Had Tompkins chosen instead to place a large cross of stained glass at the center of the action, he could have added layers of symbolism. The ways in which fundamentalist religion crucifies its gay adherents is central to the play's message.

Shore’s script is bitingly funny, sure, and heart-wrenching, but also melodramatic and sometimes downright preachy. Credit Tompkins and his strong acting ensemble for letting the story flow, delivering plenty of laughs and heartfelt performances full of soul.

The show is not for everyone. It’s very frank and explicit, rated NC-17. Yet there is much here that will resonate with anyone who has wrestled with themes of identity, self-discovery, acceptance, inclusion and the role of religion and the outsider. The play delivers a message of hope and love even as it calls for acceptance and tolerance. 

Southern Baptist Sissies continues at Muncie Civic Theatre's studio theatre through March 2.

Artwork used by permission.