I left wishing I had gone earlier in its run, the better to force all of my friends to go see it too -- preferably with me, so that we could exchange sideways glances and giggle raucously (is that even possible?) and cry and hold hands, me with a dumb-ass grin plastered across my way-too-normal and non-descript face to feel at home in such a hip and beautiful downtown crowd.
I wasn't expecting to love it and yet I left laughing, almost giddy at the thought that theater could make me feel this way. (And not only because Mariah employs to such perfect satisfaction one of my all-time favorite songs, though that was certainly a particular pleasure.)
Kate Bornstein*, awesome author of Gender Outlaw, My Gender Workbook, and Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks and Other Outlaws (years before the It Gets Better Project phenomenon), described it as triumphant. Also a "fierce, funny, smart, theatrical call for the next generation of gender revolution." She was, as usual, right on.
There's one last performance tomorrow night at 8pm, at the Paradise Factory on East 4th. I'm sure it's sold out, but go anyway, put your name on the waiting list, offer to stand in the back or sit in the aisle or cuddle on someone's lap. You won't be disappointed.
*For whom I harbor a special fondness dating back at least to this near-ancient email from my Ari-love, which is the kind of thing one keeps when one is an email hoarder such as myself and one has had the same email address since 1994:
Subject: Where are yoooo?????
Date: 2/29/2000 8:33 AM
I just realized that i can find you here since i have no fucking clue where to call you! I miss you. What's going on? Are you ok? I ran into Cindy at a Kate reading (what a fucking shock!) and she, or rather her boyfriend told me that you're homeless and couchhopping. Come hop on my couch! Well, I'm actually sort of on a roll with this email thingy, so write to me. I love you sweetie.