Vampire Lesbians good enough for encores

JULIEN R. FIELDING
Staff Writer

Too bad that in the future, Jill Anderson and Tim Siragusa have other theatrical commitments.

That's because after sitting through Sunday's performance of "Vampire Lesbians From Sodom" at the Blue Barn, I couldn't help wishing someone could convince these two to commit themselves to, at the very least, a one-year run of this show.

"Rocky Horror Picture Show" be damned.

"Vampire Lesbians" truly reigns as queen of the stage.

The production features ballsy, "I'm-getting-another-TAG-award" performances by its leads, with some noteworthy frosting provided by supporting players Christine Schwery, Craig Fitzpatrick, Terry Brennan and Teri Fender.

Director Kevin Lawler triumphs again.

Charles Busch's script is what might happen should Anne Rice's "Interview With the Vampire" get tossed up with Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein," "Priscilla: Queen of the Desert" and Andy Warhol's "Dracula."

It begins in ancient Sodom with the feeding of a 14-year-old virgin (Anderson) to a Gloria Swansonesque succubus (Siragusa), then progresses to La Condesa's (Siragusa's) mansion in Hollywood, circa 1920s, and finally ending in a glitzy dance number in a rehearsal hall in modern Las Vegas.

Straight-laced types probably won't get past the first few minutes of the play, during which scantily clad servants Ali (Craig Fitzpatrick) and Hujar (Terry Brennan) flex their musclebound forms and mimic the sex act. But then, these people probably wouldn't appreciate the saucy sexual innuendo, catty exchanges and rampant bitchiness, either. (Food for the debauched.)

So, as they probably will be spending their time and money at a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical anyhow, let's get on to what the more liberal-minded people can look forward to: Gorgeous, revealing costumes encrusted with gold and sequins; more camp than can be found in a Girl Scout's dreams, perfect comic timing, biting remarks (bring a pen and note pad) and acting reminiscent of the silent screen era.

Siragusa steals the show as the world-weary succubus who is equal parts Marlene Dietrich and Joan Crawford. With his wide-open eyes, accentuated by heavy black and red makeup - he's ready for his close-up, Mr. DeMille - clenched jaw and shoulders-rolled-back stance, he looks both pained and fearsome. (His rival character tells him he looks like he's perpetually smelling dung.)

When Siragusa first emerges from his cave, the audience falls into a trance and wouldn't be capable of exiting the theater even if sprayed with acid or covered with ferociously stinging scorpions.

Anderson is no less brilliant. From Act I to III, she transforms herself from terrified teen to vampish, lust-filled movie star, then to a Lucille Ball-type with overt Sapphic urges. Each character is distinctly divine.

This singer-dancer-actor demonstrates such a perfect kinship with Siragusa that the show's best moments happen primarily when these two are verbally and physically battling it out.

Brennan and Fitzpatrick provide the show with its "meat," but these actors are more than pretty boys with perky pecs. Brennan, who in April delighted audiences in the University of Nebraska at Omaha's production of "Good Night Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet)," has good comic instincts and not a modicum of inhibition. (He'll do well as a working actor.)

And Brennan does a memorable turn as Etienne, the former vaudeville child star turned hatchet murderer, also in Act II. When this Quasimoto-type begins soft-shoeing it, you won't be able to hold the laughs in. Gut-busting.

As the play's ingenue Renee Vain, Fender resembles a blonde Mary Pickford but talks the trash of a tough broad willing to scratch or sleep her way to the top of the marquee.

She's equally delightful as the Broadway-bound Tracy, a West Virginia gal who isn't afraid to rattle her rack for applause. Audiences might recognize Fender as Cherie from the Chanticleer's March production of "Bus Stop."

And, finally, Schwery, who injected the Blue Barn's "Wit" with some compassion, is manically outrageous as gossip columnist Oatsie Carewe-turned vampire hunter. Eat your hearts out, Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons.

Rarely have I seen a theatrical production that I absolutely surrendered to. Rarer still have I witnessed one that I considered going back to see. "Vampire Sodom" is that unusually bizarre curiosity that will attract a sliver of the population to it, then never let them go.

Cultists, prepare to be dazzled.

"Vampire Lesbians of Sodom" runs through Aug. 5 at the Blue Barn 614 S. 11th St. Tickets are $15. Shows start at 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through Sundays. For more information, call 345-1576 or go to www.bluebarn.org.