Playwright: Mariah MacCarthy. At: Pride Films and Plays at Mary’s Attic, 5400 N. Clark St. Tickets: 1-800-838-3006; www.brownpapertickets.com; $20. Runs through: Sept. 7
What is a “genderfuck?” According to Taylor, our androgynous guide, any time you behave in a manner not adhering to our culture’s binary male-female proscriptions—if you’re a girl and you like the Three Stooges, for example, or a boy who grooves on My Little Pony—well, folks, you might be genderfucking. This is a good thing, declares our ambisexual emcee, since “Life isn’t black and white! It’s technicolor!”
Illustrating this principle is a parable tracking the progress of eight young bar-buddies of diverse temperament. At one extreme is Kate, who loves her mom (but not her dad) and wears a “Fuck Men” T-shirt. At the other is Dick—not “Rich” or “Rick”—who brags about his priapic prowess to his unimpressed sidekick, Adrian. Elsewhere on the spectrum are round-heeled Gwen and her devoted beau Benji, Cosmo girl Allegra, celibate athlete Devon and effeminate hairdresser DJ. What they have in common is that they are living lies—not only deceptions based in overt denial, but the equally self-restrictive kind based in fear of the unknown.
It’s not easy to get in touch with your true feelings and desires, but over a series of scenes that the mischievous Taylor orchestrates, each of our hesitant pilgrims breaches the boundaries of his or her comfort zones—sometimes willingly, sometimes under duress—to emerge bruised and shaken, but wiser for having tried what they once knocked. Allegra discards cosmetics and diets, Gwen pursues a literary career, Devon and DJ find accord in their shared affinity for martial arts and—after suffering the he-man humiliation of having his ass kicked by an angry queer—Dick comes to accept Adrian as a friend, not just a fellow predator.
This doesn’t mean that everything ends all cuddly-smoochie (the Noah’s Ark paradigm is ripe for genderfucking, too), nor does author Mariah MacCarthy advocate simply swapping one stereotype for another. Kate may try on a dress but she doesn’t instantly turn Lady Gaga, any more than Dick and Adrian suddenly go Brokeback Mountain on us. If this raises the IQ level of this Pride Plays and Films production above what the typical weekend crowd at Mary’s Attic anticipates, the show’s early curtain and brisk 80-minute running time should appeal to playgoers not yet sodden on RumChata fizzes, but nevertheless appreciative of an attractive ensemble getting physical—and smarter—in a sweetly wholesome way.