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Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Editor's Pick in Time Out New York!


Fancy that
Scott Turner Schofield returns to the cotillion for Debutante Balls.
SKIRT THE ISSUE Stradling genders onstage was crucial to Schoefield's vision.
SKIRT THE ISSUE Stradling genders onstage was crucial to Schofield's vision.
Playwright and performance artist Scott Turner Schofield has come out in at least five different ways. When he was in high school—and was still living as a woman named Katie—he came out as a lesbian. In college at Atlanta's Emory University (where he and this writer were classmates), he came out as transgender. But while those are powerful stories, they may be less surprising than the events that inspired Schofield's latest show: As a young woman in Charlotte, North Carolina, Schofield came out at three debutante balls as a Southern belle.
For those who don't know Dixie, the debutante ball is an annual Old South tradition in which young women put on elegant gowns, get paraded around mansions by tuxedoed young men and symbolically announce that they are ready to join society. For the debs, this ritual is called "coming out," and the joke is not lost on Schofield. His solo piece Debutante Balls—which he performs twice this week at the Cherry Lane Theater as part of the queercentric Fresh Fruit Festival—pokes fun at the similarities between his time in cotillion culture and his journey within the realm of gender politics.
Schofield has unwittingly broken rules in both worlds. Consider, for instance, the story of his debutante gown: As a middle-class kid who didn't arrive in the South until his teens, he didn't know that upper-crust debs usually attend balls in white dresses and kid gloves. So what was his coming out attire? A spaghetti-strapped number with a long black skirt and a leopard-print bodice. Blanche DuBois would have died.
"But it was the only dress I owned!" he says, chatting via instant message from a theater workshop in Serbia after the telephone stopped working in the middle of this interview. "I bought it at a nice place at the mall! How was I supposed to know?" he asks. "Like with gender, you only know you're doing it wrong as you do it wrong."
Schofield wears the frock during a crucial scene in Debutante Balls to explicitly symbolize his time as a woman. For most of his audiences, both queer and straight, he says the transformation scene is "a magical moment," but there are some who don't want him to acknowledge his feminine past.
"Some trans people feel that being trans is a birth defect that they've corrected through various medical interventions, and now they are living as the men and women they were truly meant to be," he explains. "They get angry at being considered anything else."
But for Schofield, it's crucial to keep identifying himself as trans and not just as a man. "I rail against the system that says we can't be all of ourselves," he says. "I think trans people especially have something special to say."
Ironically, since he's on hormone therapy and passes as a man, Schofield now regularly "comes out" as someone who wasn't born male. That wrinkle only strengthens his artistic mission.
"The major point of Debutante Balls is to highlight the ways we can all come out as things," he explains. "We can be sodefined. We can define ourselves out of our own truths, so we should trouble those notions and be all over them. It should not be possible for me to be a radical feminist debutante transman, but I am."
Schofield's perspective, which he has toured across the country since 2004, complements the rest of Fresh Fruit, whose fifth season runs through July 22. Several of the festival's other titles also hinge on gender and the various meanings of "coming out."
Lucile Scott's play Monroe Bound, running Saturday 14 through Tuesday 17, depicts an entire family facing its own identity issues, while British performer Joey Hateley uses his multimedia solo show A. Gender (July 21 and 22) to subvert both male and female archetypes.
Fresh Fruit artistic director Carol Polcovar is happy that the fest features multiple riffs on the same theme. "We tend to have pockets in our community that stay together and don't know about anyone else," she says. "I want people to 'get it,' to see that we're all coming at the same thing from unique places."
Debutante Balls is Thu 12 and Fri 13. The Fresh Fruit Festival runs at the Cherry Lane Theater and other locations through Jul 22. See It's Here, It's Queer, and also freshfruitfestival.com.



Thursday, May 12, 2005

Wizzer Pizzer Review

Scott Turner Schofield and Topher Payne
in Amy Wheeler's "Wizzer Pizzer"
ARTS | THEATER 05.12.05

 
Under The Rainbow
Wizzer Pizzer a tone-switcher

BY CURT HOLMAN

Playwright Amy Wheeler comes out in the program notes of her comedy Wizzer Pizzer. The Seattle-based playwright fesses up to being "a queer Christian ... who believes in the teachings of the socio-political-activist formerly known as Jesus."

Comfortable with her spiritual beliefs, Wheeler admits to being leery of born-again evangelicals and others "in the flock." Such ambivalence gives the playwright the ideal vantage to scrutinize the "ex-gay movement" of Christian groups to cure homosexuality.

In its world-premiere production at 7 Stages, Wizzer Pizzer revels in the comic possibilities of its timely subject, turns gender politics topsy-turvy and offers something sexy for every orientation.

Yet Wheeler packs so many jokes, themes and characters into Wizzer Pizzer, the play resembles an overstuffed closet that opens and emits a noisy, colorful avalanche.

Disaffected drag queen Kevin (Topher Payne) suffers an identity crisis after his disastrous attempt to perform "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" at a gay club. Adding insult to injury, his best friend, Kandi (Scott Turner Schofield), brings down the house with her drag-king rendition of Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" that same night.

Wallowing in booze and self-pity, Kevin complains that he's a walking gay stereotype, with a predictably fabulous sense of style but no feeling of passion or belonging. He happens to catch a late-night broadcast of "Dr. Nora" (Susan V. Booth), a Dr. Laura-esque tough-love therapist and founder of the "Getting Over the Rainbow" Reparative Therapy Clinic. Soon, Kevin finds himself inexplicably outside the clinic's gate, where Dr. Nora's minions attempt to straighten him out.

Wizzer Pizzer's sharpest segments depict the prayer sessions and therapeutic exercises meant to help misguided gays get in touch with their inner breeder. All-American couple Steve (Charlie Burnett) and Helen (Alison Hastings) run the clinic as former homosexuals-turned-wholesome spouses. Helen instructs the butch gals to put on makeup while Steve teaches the effete guys to suppress their desires during wrestling holds.

Steve and Helen's nuclear family is on the verge of a meltdown. They both teeter at the brink of gay "relapse," while their children, tomboy Blaine (Mary Claire Dunn) and "sissy" Gable (Brian Crawford), serve as living proof that homosexuality comes from nature, not nurture. Meanwhile, Kevin grows even more confused when Kandi shows up at the clinic - only she claims to be a man named Jack. The implications for Kevin and Kandi's relationship, let alone for cross-dressing role-play, become impossible to sort out.

Melissa Foulger directs Wizzer Pizzer's young actors to their strengths. An Atlanta playwright, Payne captures Kevin's esteem issues to find humor and occasional pathos, whether badly lip-synching to Judy Garland or attempting to impersonate a typically macho straight guy.

Schofield, duded up in cowboy gear and Western suits, gives Kandi a sly swagger reminiscent of Madonna's quote following a k.d. lang concert: "Elvis is alive." Schofield also grounds the role in a sensitivity that goes beyond preening caricature. (It's tricky picking the right pronoun for Schofield: The transgendered actor was until recently Atlanta-based actress and performance artist Kt Kilborn.)

A delicious inside joke lies in the casting of Dr. Nora. Alliance Theatre artistic director Susan Booth plays a scolding Voice of Authority in video projection and voice-over but never appears in the flesh. Like a Bible-thumping Martha Stewart, Booth gives Dr. Nora an amusing tone of testy self-righteousness. In one video interlude, Dr. Nora reveals a kinky side by pouring misplaced sexuality into a cooking demonstration: "The secret to a good meringue is in the whipping!"

Despite such comedic inspiration, Wizzer Pizzer's world premiere production feels like the kind of draft in which the playwright tosses all possible ideas onto the stage to see which one sticks. The action and tone keep switching, from ambisexual bedroom farce to surreal journey of self-discovery to after-school special about childhood gay identity. Blurring the line between dream and reality, the play gives its characters perplexing alter egos: Burnett also struts as a glammed-up club emcee, while Hastings sizzles as a bisexual femme fatale.

The play's second half proves increasingly vague and repetitious. The persistent Wizard of Oz references muddy the play's meanings. Near the end, characters contemplate murder while Jesus appears doing bad stand-up: "Take my life - please!" Like the disconnected images from somebody else's weird dream, Wizzer Pizzer all but spins to pieces.

Wizzer Pizzer forcefully punctures religious hypocrisy and the misuse of Jesus' teachings. The play speaks directly to the national brouhaha over gay marriage, but yet may not contain a spiritual message deeper than the hardly controversial "believe in yourself." Wizzer Pizzer could be circling an idea that "choice" neither applies to religious faith nor romantic feelings: You can't force physical attraction any more than you can spiritual devotion. Somewhere along the way, though, Wizzer Pizzer gets lost on the Yellow Brick Road.

Sunday, November 2, 2003

Writing Sample: Short Story

A lesbian breakup on the side of a mountain with hilarious, disastrous consequences.

Falling as Sport

Monday, September 17, 2001

Writing Sample: Poetry

I wrote this poem in Natasha Trethewey's class at Emory University in 2001, a week after the events of 9/11. It is left purposely unfinished.

Unfinished Sestina