Arts & Entertainment
Rocking revision
Studio production cleverly reimagines Andrew Jackson’s legacy
‘Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson’
Through Aug. 19
Studio 2ndStage
1501 14th Street, NW
$38-$43
202-332-3300
studiotheatre.org

Heath Calvert in ‘Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson’ at Studio 2ndStage. (Photo by Scotty Beland; courtesy Studio Theatre)
After spending an afternoon with then-Sen. Kennedy and his young wife Jackie, Tennessee Williams said to fellow guest Gore Vidal that the American people would never send their hosts to the White House, they were way too attractive. (During the same visit, according to Gore, Williams also commented favorably on the future president’s backside).
Of course, Williams was dead wrong. The golden couple’s hotness was a boon. In the irreverent, emo-rock musical “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson,” now playing at Studio 2ndStage, our seventh president’s political success is based largely on his own less polished physical appeal. He’s imagined as an oversexed rock god.
Early in the brisk 90-minute musical, Jackson (Heath Calvert) leers at the audience and says “I’m going to put in you” — that same classy pickup line used so successfully by the boys on TV’s “Jersey Shore.” It works for Jackson too — random women want to have his baby and at least one man, his vice president Martin Van Buren, played by Davis Hasty, is terribly smitten.
Jackson is also an outsider at a time when the adolescent country is already wary of Washington’s power elite (played here as a foppish foursome). Born and bred on the frontier, he’s an aggressively unapologetic populist hawk who plays his base like a fiddle. The electorate wants change and Jackson fits the bill.
Sporting heavy guyliner and a thatch of floppy black hair, lanky Broadway vet Calvert is terrific as the callow Jackson. He looks good and exudes irritating arrogance pierced with hints of vulnerability. Mercifully, Calvert’s comedic portrayal is nuanced. In lesser hands, the performance could be numbingly one dimensional.
And talk about an energized base: Jackson’s supporters, played by a talented young ensemble, are on fire. Athletic actors Alex Mills and Ryan Sellars literally jump off the walls. As the narrator, Felicia Curry is solid but underused. She’s especially funny reminiscing about her first love, a big-busted Wellesley girl.
Unlike a lot of rock musicals, “Bloody” isn’t sung through. Alex Timbers’ book unfolds rapidly in a series of parodic sketches covering Jackson’s hardscrabble childhood, years spent slaughtering Native Americans, marriage to the already married Rachel (the talented Rachel Zampelli) and political ascent.
Staged by Keith Alan Baker with Christopher Gallu and Jennifer Harris, the mostly fast-paced show isn’t without lulls, particularly some tedious Oval Office scenes. And while a lot of the show’s humor feels overwrought — more sophomoric than satirical — songs like “Populism Yea Yea” and “Rock Star” from out composer Michael Friedman’s first-rate, hard driving score make it all OK.
With “Ten Little Indians,” a sweetly sung number about Native American genocide, Choreographer Diane Coburn Bruning cleverly demonstrates the demise of the great nations: Humbled leaders edge toward the end of a plank where one by one they’re killed off by shots to the head and knives to the neck.
Backed by historical projections (battlefield scenes, half-built Washington landmarks), Giorgos Tsappas’s open set with its blood-smeared stage floor nicely accommodates the production’s large 20-person cast as well as musical director Christopher Youstra’s dressed-down band.
While much has been made of Jackson’s tight pants, they’re less remarkable than what you might see at Town on a Saturday night. Far more interesting are his short military jackets by Ivania Stack. Early on, his coats are dirty and decorated with bloody scalps. Later versions are cleaner, more beautifully tailored. His rise and inevitable entry in the establishment (much to his fans dismay) is reflected in his costumes and Friedman’s score with songs “I’m Not That Guy” and “I’m So That Guy.”
Toward the end, the show briefly sobers up and makes a stab at exploring Jackson’s muddled legacy. Then it’s back to what it does best: The cast closes the show with a joyous and raucously performed version “The Hunters of Kentucky.”
From the portraits of a usually shaggy Jackson hanging around town, it’s hard to know if Old Hickory was truly a heartthrob. Too bad Van Buren isn’t it around to ask.
Out & About
Blade Foundation to host fundraiser in Rehoboth on Sept. 12
Mayor-elect Stewart, state Rep. Snyder-Hall to give remarks
The Washington Blade Foundation will host a fundraiser on Saturday, Sept. 12 in Rehoboth Beach featuring remarks from Rehoboth’s Mayor-elect Susan Stewart and Delaware state Rep. Claire Snyder-Hall.
The Foundation funds fellowships for aspiring queer journalists and enterprise journalism projects.
The event will be held at a private home in Rehoboth. Tickets are $100 and include open bar from Diego’s, catered appetizers from the Blue Moon, entertainment, guest speakers, and an auction. Tickets are available here.
Books
New book examines fashionista Audrey Smaltz’s fabulous life
‘Every Inch a Lady’ reveals finding true love with another woman
‘Every Inch a Lady’
By Audrey Smaltz with Alina Mitchell
c.2026, Amistad
$27.99/256 pages
Snaps, zippers, buttons, ties.
Toss that garment on, pull it up, wrap it around, you know what you like and how to wear it. The color is perfect for your skin tone, the fabric enhances your form. Yep, you always look your best and, as in the new book “Every Inch a Lady” by Audrey Smaltz (with Alina Mitchell), that best is fabulous.

”Born, bred, toasted, buttered, jellied, and honeyed in Harlem” in 1937, Audrey Smaltz was a force to be reckoned with almost from the time she could walk. Her parents imbued confidence in her, they nurtured her creativity and sent her to charm school, but they never allowed her to create a stir.
“That,” says Smaltz, “is not what ladies did.”
By the time she was a teenager, Smaltz was modeling for New York City designers. Shortly thereafter, she started working for a married man with whom she had an affair, and whom she loved very much. She broke up with him, attended college, worked a series of jobs that taught her about fashion and jobs that didn’t seem to fit her. An ill-fated marriage took her to Chicago where she ultimately landed a position that sent her to work in Ebony magazine’s New York office.
Working at Ebony was a career-changer, in a way. Smaltz was able to travel the world and learn more about fashion, but she didn’t exactly get along with her boss.
Finally, seizing an opportunity, Smaltz decided to launch her own company, Audrey Smaltz, Inc., a “fashion production business,” but she couldn’t get any designers to take a chance on her. Undaunted, she reorganized, re-branded, hit the streets, and knocked on doors until she finally found one client, which led to many others.
Through it all, her personal life was a whirlwind. She dated “more men than you can shake a book at,” settling down occasionally, briefly. Fashion had always been her first love, but she accidentally found real love, “the love of a woman,” at a leadership course.
There’s an old saying that writers need to add lots of “color” into their stories. Read a little of “Every Inch a Lady,” and you’ll notice immediately that author Audrey Smaltz (with Alina Mitchell) quite literally takes that to heart by mentioning nearly every color of the spectrum here. Hmm.
That oddity aside, Smaltz is a wonderfully lively storyteller, speaking with the energy of a woman much younger to the heart of anyone who loves fashion. That glee extends to collectors of vintage clothing, who will be delighted to read about the industry long ago and the way things worked then. Smaltz says she experienced racism, which is not unusual for pre-Civil Rights America, but doors were surprisingly closed for other reasons that will astound anyone who’s savvy about the fashion industry, even today.
There’s quite a bit of name-dropping in this book but most of it belongs in the anecdotes, so you likely won’t mind. If you’re a fashionista, too, find “Every Inch a Lady,” and snap it up.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Theater
Actress takes on bisexual ‘Ma’ Rainey in new Round House production
Haskins relishes playing ‘impassioned Black woman who sticks to her guns’
‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’
Sept. 9-Oct. 11
Round House Theatre
4545 East-West Highway
Bethesda, MD 20814
$50 and up
Roundhousetheatre.org
Among the Black blues women of the 1920s and 1930s, being “in the life” wasn’t uncommon. Self-supporting and often on the road, they followed the Great Northern Migration to places like Chicago and Harlem, where they lived independent lives, made music, enjoyed same-sex relationships, and partied with like-minded ladies.
Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, best known as the “mother of the blues,” fit the bill. A big star, Ma toured the country and sold hit records nationwide. She lived an openly bisexual life.
In 1925, hosting an “indecent” all-female party at a Chicago apartment, landed Ma in jail, but blues singer Bessie Smith, Ma’s protégée and erstwhile girlfriend, promptly bailed her out. Three years later, Ma released a popular track whose lyrics included “Went out last night with a crowd of my friends / They must’ve been women, ’cause I don’t like no men.”
She was also a woman who knew her value. Ma’s voice was a powerful passport.
Ma Rainey is the ultimate force of strength and resistance in August Wilson’s 1982 play, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the first of the late playwright’s brilliant Century Cyle, a collection of mostly Pittsburgh-set plays that chronicle the 20th century African-American experience.
Poised to kick off a month-long run at Round House (Sept. 9-Oct. 11), the production (co-produced with Olney Theatre Center) is directed by Lili-Anne Brown and features out actor and powerhouse vocalist Nicole Michelle Haskins making her Round House debut as Ma Rainey.
Set in a Chicago recording studio in 1927, the drama follows Ma, her Black band members and white producers as they try to record a new album of her sons. Tensions over artistic control, racial exploitation, and personal ambitions come to the fore. Amid the difficulties and a fair bit of humor, arises a serious clash involving hotheaded young trumpet player Levee (Yao Dogbe) who wants to alter musical arrangements on the titular song.
Playing blues icon Ma Rainey wasn’t on Haskins’s radar. Because the bulk of her work is in musical theater, Haskins never foresaw being tapped to do a Wilson play.
“It’s kind of like Shakespeare. Not restrictive but respected; not everyone gets a ticket to the party. So, I figured that I just wouldn’t pursue that,” she says matter-of-factly.
However, fate would dictate differently. Haskins and director Brown are longtime friends and collaborators. They recently worked together on “The Color Purple” at Chicago’s prestigious Goodman Theatre where Haskins played Sofia, another powerful Black woman who, not unlike Ma, is navigating life in a patriarchal white world.
When the opportunity came up to play Ma at Round House, Brown encouraged Haskins to audition. She did and got the part. “I’m so grateful to be working with a wonderful director like Lili-Anne, especially during my introduction to Wilson’s work. He is a theater god, and I’m swept every day.”
And is it special to be queer and playing queer? “For me, it’s special to play any role where there is an impassioned Black woman who sticks to her guns and fights for the things she deserves. Her sexuality is the icing on the cake.”
The production adheres to Wilson’s text and the text describes a woman who is in a relationship with another woman. Though her sexuality is provocative, it’s not the only thing about her that’s compelling. She’s also portrayed as an artist, businesswoman, and a loving aunt.
Haskins, a New York-based actor who made her name on the Chicago theater scene, grew up in Detroit. At 12, she became involved with the Mosaic Youth Theatre of Detroit; after high school she went on to earn a BFA at Detroit’s Wayne State University. Detroit is also where Haskins learned storytelling: “It’s very natural for a Detroit native to greet people on the street. There’s an expectation to be open to someone else’s story and to share your own. I’ve done this many times.”
Queer characters are famously underrepresented in Wilson’s work. “I see that, but do we really know for sure? After the first day’s read through of the play, some of the actors, for different reasons, wondered if in addition to Ma, perhaps one or two of the other characters might be queer too. Now wouldn’t that be interesting? That’s something I’d like to see.”
