‘Fake It Until You Make It’
Through May 4
Arena Stage, 1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets start at $59
Arenastage.org

A farce requires teamwork. And Larissa FastHorse’s “Fake It Until You Make It” now at Arena Stage is no exception. 

The timely comedy focuses on Native American nonprofits fractiously housed in a shared space. Friction rises when rivals River (Amy Brenneman), a white woman operating in the Indigenous world, goes up against the more authentic Wynona (Shyla Lefner) to win a lucrative Native-funded grant.   

While Brenneman (best known for TV’s Judging Amy) is undeniably a big draw, it takes a group collaboration to hit marks, land jokes, and pull off the well-executed physical comedy including all those carefully timed door slams.

As members of the six-person “Fake It” cast, Brandon Delsid and Eric Stanton Betts, both out actors of partly indigenous ancestry, contribute to the mayhem. Respectively, Delsid and Betts play Krys and Mark, a pair of two-spirited Native Americans who meet farcically cute and enjoy one of the play’s more satisfying arcs. 

For Krys, every attractive man is a potential next fling, but when Mark, handsome and relatively reserved, arrives on the scene, it’s something entirely different. 

Both onstage and sometimes off, Betts plays the straight man to Delsid’s waggishness. But when it comes down to real life business, the friends are on the same page: not only are the L.A.-based, up-and-coming actors intensely serious about their film and stage careers, but they’re also particularly engaged in the themes of Indigenous People found in “Fake It.” 

On a recent Wednesday following a matinee and an audience talkback, they were ready for a phone interview. 

In establishing whose voice was whose, Delsid clarified with “I’m the one who sounds a little like a Valley girl.” 

WASHINGTON BLADE: Brandon, you’ve been with the show since its early work-shopping days in 2022 and through its debut in Los Angeles and now Washington. Have things evolved? 

BRANDON DELSID: Definitely. I’ve grown up in the last couple of years and so has my character; it’s hard to know where I end and Kry begins. There’s been a real melding.

Eric and I are both queer, and to get to play these roles that are so human, imperfect, sexy, and interesting is really joyful.

As queer artists you don’t always get the chance to do work like this. So many stories are queer trauma, which is incredibly important, but it’s liberating to feel joy and ride it off into the sunset, which, without revealing too much, is kind of what we get to do.

BLADE: There’s some race shifting in “Fake It” particularly with regard to “pretendian” (a pejorative term describing a person who has falsely claimed Indigenous status). 

ERIC STANTON BETTS:  The last few years I’ve been on a journey with my cultural identity and place in the world. I’m a mixed BIPOC artist, my dad is Black and Native American by way of the Cherokee tribe and my mom is white. 

Since 2020, I’ve tried to figure out where I belong in this cultural history that I haven’t had a tie to throughout my life; it’s gratifying to find my way back to my indigeneity and be welcomed. 

In the play, race shifting is introduced through farce. But it’s never in a disrespectful way; it’s never mocked or done in a way to take away from others. The playwright parallels race shifting with gender fluidity. 

DELSID: But in life, there are people posing as Indigenous, actively taking grants, and the play goes there, we don’t hold back. Larissa, our playwright, has made it clear that she’s not trying to figure it out for us. With that in mind, we hope people leave the theater interested and curious to learn more. 

BLADE: Mark arrives kind of the middle of some crazy drama, bringing along a jolt of romance. 

BETTS:  Yeah, when I show up, we’re all sort of shot out of a cannon, struggling to keep up with the initial lie. 

DESLID: A very gay cannon. 

BLADE: What’s up next for you two?

BETTS: Both Brandon and I are up for the same part in a TV pilot, so one of us may be getting some very good news. I also have a Tyler Perry film coming out soon [he plays a model, not an unfamiliar gig for Betts]. 

DELSID: Coming up, I have a recurring part on HBO’s “The Rehearsal,” and a supporting part in “June and John,” a John Besson film. But doing “Fake It Until You Make It” in L.A. and now D.C. has been a special time in our lives. It’s 23/7 togetherness. There’s that hour for sleep. 

‘Bad Books’
Through May 4
Round House Theatre
4545 East-West Highway
Bethesda, Md.
Tickets start at $43
Roundhousetheatre.org

While a library might seem an unlikely place for a heated contretemps, it’s exactly the spot where adults go when they’re itching to battle out what books minors might be allowed to read. 

In Sharyn Rothstein’s “Bad Books,” two women, The Mother (out actor Holly Twyford) and The Librarian (Kate Eastwood Norris), swiftly become mired in a quarrel that comes with some weighty repercussions. 

The Mother is a popular conservative influencer on a mission. She’s furious that the local library has overstepped its bounds and she blames The Librarian, a woman who adheres to the “it takes a village” method of child rearing and is dedicated to the young people who approach her reference desk. 

There’s some background. It seems The Librarian who dresses young (tight jackets and Doc Martens) and curses a blue streak, forged a friendship with Jeremy, a teenage library regular. 

While the details are a bit hazy, it seems the troubled Jeremy confided in The Librarian regarding some personal issues. In return, she suggested a helpful book – Boob Juice.

Unsurprisingly, based solely on its title, the book has thrown The Mother into a pique of outrage. After finding Boob Juice in her son’s bedroom, she made a beeline to the library; and not incidentally, The Mother hasn’t read the recommended work and has no plans to do so. 

Set in a suburb with lax gun laws, the story explores facets of division and conciliation. The Mother insists she isn’t so much about banning books as she is keeping some books away from young people until they’ve obtained parental approval. 

“Bad Books” is performed in the round. Built on a rotating stage, Meghan Raham’s set is simple, pleasingly serviceable, and easily transforms from the library into a small corporate office, and later the assembly room of a church. Overhead floats a circular glass shelf filled with a cache of banned books. Things like a rolling book cart and a goldfish bowl add some flavor to the different locations. 

The Mother wasn’t always a popular conservative warrior with an enthusiastic horde of followers. 

Her past includes penning a book that later filled her with guilt and regret. She refers to that early questionable literary accomplishment as her bad book. And while over the years, she has persevered to find and destroy each and every printed copy, she hasn’t entirely succeeded.  

Norris plays three women who figure meaningfully into the arc of Twyford’s mother character. In addition to The Librarian, Norris is The Manager, a broadly played piece of comic relief, and The Editor, a warm woman who reveals things about Jeremy that his own mother never knew. 

Smartly staged by Ryan Rilette, the production is part of a National New Play Network Rolling World Premiere. While Rothstein’s script offers two strong roles (skillfully performed by celebrated actors Twyford and Norris), its ending feels too neatly resolved.  

In the past, Twyford and Norris have successfully joined forces for numerous DMV productions including Studio Theatre’s production of David Auburn’s two-hander “Summer, 1976,” the story of a longtime and unlikely friendship between two women who meet as young mothers during the Bicentennial summer. 

Though different, both The Librarian and The Mother share a strong and ultimately hopeful relationship with words.   

There’s a quote from E.B. White’s classic “Charlotte’s Web” that pops up a couple of times in the briskly paced 80-minute play. Charlotte, the wise spider, says, “with just the right words you can change the world.”

‘Uncle Vanya’
Through April 20
Shakespeare Theatre Company
Harman Hall
610 F St., N.W.
Shakespearetheatre.org

Shakespeare Theatre Company’s “Uncle Vanya” freshly rendered by director Simon Godwin and starring Hugh Bonneville in the title role, puts a pleasing twist on Chekhov’s tragicomic classic. 

As disheveled, disheartened, and overworked Vanya, Bonneville is terrific. Though very different from the actor’s fame making role as Downton Abbey’s Lord Grantham, a proud, fastidiously turned-out aristocrat who presides over a manicured country estate peopled by a large staff, his Vanya is equally compelling 

For “Uncle Vanya,” Chekhov imagines a house on a ragged estate in the Russian forest whose inhabitants display varying degrees of discontent brought on by the realization that they’re leading wasted lives. Middle-aged Vanya’s dissatisfaction and disappointment have been tempered by years of hard work. But all of that is about to be challenged. 

With his plain and steadfast niece Sonya (Melanie Field), Vanya keeps the place going. And while barely putting aside a kopek for himself, he’s ensured that proceeds have gone to Sonya’s father Alexandre, a querulous academic (Tom Nelis), and his alluring, much younger second wife Yelena (Ito Aghayere) who live in the city. 

When called to retire, the self-important professor and his wife economize by joining the family in the country. Overcome by the intense boredom brought on by provincial isolation, they’re not happy. Turns out, life in the sticks isn’t for them. 

At the same time, the urban couple’s presence generates quite an effect on the rural household, changing the mood from one of regular work to idleness. What’s more, Vanya and family friend Mikhaíl Ástrov (John Benjamin Hickey), an unusually eco-aware, country doctor, are both bewitched by Yelena. 

Meanwhile, young Sonya, who’s long carried an unrequited torch for Ástrov grows increasingly smitten. And while Yelena, who’s bored with her aging husband, expresses teasing tenderness with Vanya, she feels something more serious for Ástrov. It’s a whole lot for one house. 

Superbly staged by Simon Godwin, STC’s artistic director, and performed by a topnotch cast, the very human production begins on an unfinished stage cluttered with costume racks and assorted props, all assembled by crew in black and actors in street clothes. We first see them arranging pillows and rugs for an outside scene. Throughout the play, the actors continue to assist with set changes accompanied by an underscore of melancholic cello strings. 

With each subsequent scene, the work moves deeper into Chekhov’s late 19th century Russian world from the kitchen to the drawing room thanks in part to scenic designer Robert Brill’s subtle sets and Susan Hilferty and Heather C. Freedman’s period costumes as well as Jen Schriever’s emotive lighting design. 

In moments of stillness, the set with its painterly muted tones and spare furnishings is a domestic interior from a moment in time. It’s really something. 

Adapted by contemporary Irish playwright Conor McPherson, the work is infused with mordant wit, ribald comedy, and sadness. Like McPherson’s 2006 play “The Seafarer” in which the action unfolds among family, friends and others in a modest house filled with confrontation, laughter, resentment, and sadness. All on brand. 

For much of “Uncle Vanya,” McPherson’s script leans into humor, funny slights, the professor’s pretentions, and Vanya’s delicious snarky asides; but after the interval, the play’s stakes become perilously heightened ready to explode with resentment and feelings of wasted potential, particularly frustrations expressed by Vanya and his intelligent but unfulfilled mother (Sharon Lockwood). 

When it appears that mismatched couple Alexandre and Yelena are poised to depart, the house is struck with a sense of both relief and gloom. 

Not everyone is disturbed. In fact, the family’s old nanny Nana (Nancy Robinette), and Waffles (Craig Wallace), a former landowner and now lodger on the estate, are elated. Both are eager to return to the pre-professor schedule of an early breakfast and midday lunch, and menus featuring simpler fare. They long for the return of the humble Russian noodle.

“Uncle Vanya”melds cynicism and hope. Like life, it’s a grasp at fulfillment.