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Rocking revision

Studio production cleverly reimagines Andrew Jackson’s legacy

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‘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.

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Drag

PHOTOS: Drag in rural Virginia

Performers face homophobia, find community

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Four drag performers dance in front of an anti-LGBTQ protester outside the campus of James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Va. (Blade photo by Landon Shackelford)

Drag artists perform for crowds in towns across Virginia. The photographer follows Gerryatrick, Shenandoah, Climaxx, Emerald Envy among others over eight months as they perform at venues in the Virginia towns of Staunton, Harrisonburg and Fredericksburg.

(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)

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Books

New book explores homosexuality in ancient cultures

‘Queer Thing About Sin’ explains impact of religious credo in Greece, Rome

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(Book cover image courtesy of Bloomsbury)

‘The Queer Thing About Sin’
By Harry Tanner
c.2025, Bloomsbury
$28/259 pages

Nobody likes you very much.

That’s how it seems sometimes, doesn’t it? Nobody wants to see you around, they don’t want to hear your voice, they can’t stand the thought of your existence and they’d really rather you just go away. It’s infuriating, and in the new book “The Queer Thing About Sin” by Harry Tanner, you’ll see how we got to this point.

When he was a teenager, Harry Tanner says that he thought he “was going to hell.”

For years, he’d been attracted to men and he prayed that it would stop. He asked for help from a lay minister who offered Tanner websites meant to repress his urges, but they weren’t the panacea Tanner hoped for. It wasn’t until he went to college that he found the answers he needed and “stopped fearing God’s retribution.”

Being gay wasn’t a sin. Not ever, but he “still wanted to know why Western culture believed it was for so long.”

Historically, many believe that older men were sexual “mentors” for teenage boys, but Tanner says that in ancient Greece and Rome, same-sex relationships were common between male partners of equal age and between differently-aged pairs, alike. Clarity comes by understanding relationships between husbands and wives then, and careful translation of the word “boy,” to show that age wasn’t a factor, but superiority and inferiority were.

In ancient Athens, queer love was considered to be “noble” but after the Persians sacked Athens, sex between men instead became an acceptable act of aggression aimed at conquered enemies. Raping a male prisoner was encouraged but, “Gay men became symbols of a depraved lack of self-control and abstinence.”

Later Greeks believed that men could turn into women “if they weren’t sufficiently virile.” Biblical interpretations point to more conflict; Leviticus specifically bans queer sex but “the Sumerians actively encouraged it.” The Egyptians hated it, but “there are sporadic clues that same-sex partners lived together in ancient Egypt.”

Says Tanner, “all is not what it seems.”

So you say you’re not really into ancient history. If it’s not your thing, then “The Queer Thing About Sin” won’t be, either.

Just know that if you skip this book, you’re missing out on the kind of excitement you get from reading mythology, but what’s here is true, and a much wider view than mere folklore. Author Harry Tanner invites readers to go deep inside philosophy, religion, and ancient culture, but the information he brings is not dry. No, there are major battles brought to life here, vanquished enemies and death – but also love, acceptance, even encouragement that the citizens of yore in many societies embraced and enjoyed. Tanner explains carefully how religious credo tied in with homosexuality (or didn’t) and he brings readers up to speed through recent times.

While this is not a breezy vacation read or a curl-up-with-a-blanket kind of book, “The Queer Thing About Sin” is absolutely worth spending time with. If you’re a thinking person and can give yourself a chance to ponder, you’ll like it very much.

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Theater

‘Octet’ explores the depths of digital addiction

Habits not easily shaken in Studio Theatre chamber musical

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The cast of Octet (left to right): Aidan Joyce, Jimmy Kieffer, Chelsea Williams, Tracy Lynn Olivera, Amelia Aguilar (sitting upright), Ana MarcuAngelo Harrington II, and David Toshiro Crane. (Photo by Margot Schulman) 

‘Octet’
Through Feb. 26
Studio Theatre
1501 14th Street, N.W.
Tickets start at $55
Studiotheatre.org

David Malloy’s “Octet” delves deep into the depths of digital addiction. 

Featuring a person ensemble, this extraordinary a capella chamber musical explores the lives of recovering internet addicts whose lives have been devastated by digital dependency; sharing what’s happened and how things have changed. 

Dressed in casual street clothes, the “Friends of Saul” trickle into a church all-purpose room, check their cell phones in a basket, put away the bingo tables, and arrange folding chairs into a circle. Some may stop by a side table offering cookies, tea, and coffee before taking a seat. 

The show opens with “The Forest,” a haunting hymn harking back to the good old days of an analog existence before glowing screens, incessant pings and texts.

“The forest was beautiful/ My head was clean and clear/Alone without fear/ The forest was safe/ I danced like a beautiful fool / One time some time.”

Mimicking an actual step meeting, there’s a preamble. And then the honest sharing begins, complete with accounts of sober time and slips.

Eager to share, Jessica (Chelsea Williams) painfully recalls being cancelled after the video of her public meltdown went viral. Henry (Angelo Harrington II) is a gay gamer with a Candy Crush problem. Toby (Adrian Joyce) a nihilist who needs to stay off the internet sings “So anyway/ I’m doing good/ Mostly/ Limiting my time/ Mostly.”

The group’s unseen founder Saul is absent, per usual.

In his stead Paula, a welcoming woman played with quiet compassion by Tracy Lynn Olivera, leads. She and her husband no longer connect. They bring screens to bed. In a love-lost ballad, she explains: “We don’t sleep well/ My husband I/ Our circadian rhythms corrupted/ By the sallow blue glow of a screen/ Sucking souls and melatonin/ All of my dreams have been stolen.”

After too much time spent arguing with strangers on the internet, Marvin, a brainy young father played by David Toshiro Crane, encounters the voice of a God. 

Ed (Jimmy Kieffer) deals with a porn addiction. Karly (Ana Marcu) avoids dating apps, a compulsion compared to her mother’s addiction to slot machines.

Malloy, who not only wrote the music but also the smart lyrics, book, and inventive vocal arrangements, brilliantly joins isolation with live harmony. It’s really something. 

And helmed by David Muse, “Octet” is a precisely, quietly, yet powerfully staged production, featuring a topnotch cast who (when not taking their moment in the spotlight) use their voices to make sounds and act as a sort of Greek chorus. Mostly on stage throughout all of the 100-minute one act, they demonstrate impressive stamina and concentration. 

An immersive production, “Octet” invites audience members to feel a part of the meeting. Studio’s Shargai Theatre is configured, for the first, in the round. And like the characters, patrons must also unplug. Everyone is required to have their phones locked in a small pouch (that only ushers are able to open and close), so be prepared for a wee bit of separation anxiety. 

At the end of the meeting, the group surrenders somnambulantly. They know they are powerless against internet addiction. But group newbie Velma (Amelia Aguilar) isn’t entirely convinced. She remembers the good tech times.

In a bittersweet moment, she shares of an online friendship with “a girl in Sainte Marie / Just like me.” 

Habits aren’t easily shaken.

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