Playwright: Ike Holter. At: The Chicago Commercial Collective in conjunction with the Inconvenience at the Greenhouse, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave. Tickets: 773-404-7336; Article Link Here ; $20-$55. Runs through: June 29
The story of the Stonewall Riots could have been told as a straightforward documentary with stationary actors reciting solemn fact-filled monologues, or it could have adopted a microcosmic approach, focusing on the personal responses of a few individuals caught up in troubling times. Ike Holter employs both of these devices in his account, but he also incorporates elements designed to—well, hit the fourth wall, vaulting the barriers separating the audience from the dramatic action with a presentation that swarms over the room like so many angry bees to heighten the immediacy of the events depicted.
The incident encapsulated in a breathless 90 minutes by The Inconvenience ensemble occurred June 27, 1968, on a sultry summer evening in the Greenwich Village district of New York City, when the police made one of their habitual raids on The Stonewall Inn, a bar whose clientele encompassed gay people, cross-dressers, fetishists and other devotees of alternative gender roles. Unlike other nights, however, the culprits refused to go quietly, drawing crowds of supporters who stormed the police station to protest the harassment, shouting, "Out of the closets and into the streets!" By morning of the next day, a full-scale revolution was under way.
We enter the auditorium to confront an adrenalin-pumping soundscape served up by a live rock 'n' roll band whose period score quickly immerses us in the ambience of an urban enclave on the brink of duende-fueled abandon. Assisted by the wry surveillance of stoop-sitters Tano and Mika, we meet the archetypal figures who will each play a part in forging a collective identity leading to change—college-boy Newbie and Wall Street A-Gay. Drag-diva Carson and teenage butch-lezzie Peg. Counterculture drifter Cliff and motor-mouth activist Roberta. Naysayers include family-values proponent Madeline and voice-of-authority Cop, both of whom get their chance to argue in defense of their choices.
Holter's perfunctory attempt at fairness does nothing to mitigate the undeniably propagandistic slant of his panoramic view. Histories are written by the victors, after all, and so nowadays there is little doubt as to who the good guys were. The characters may proudly declare "I was there," but no matter where you were during the era under scrutiny—with its many divisive issues shaking the very foundations of American society—you'll probably find yourself cheering on these suddenly-self-empowered dissidents as they revel in spontaneous anarchy and hitherto-unrecognized unity. Just try to resist the temptation to kick over trash cans on your way home, huh?
