Revenge Song: A Vampire Cowboys Creation
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Geffen Playhouse
Through March 8
Born around 1673, Julie D’Aubigny was an extraordinary women who defied the gender expectations of her time to live entirely on her own terms. D’Aubigny’s unconventional life is the basis for Revenge Song, a play by Qui Nguyen, familiar to local audiences for his compelling award-winning play Vietgone and its sequel Poor Yella Rednecks, both based on the immigrant experience of his Vietnamese parents. A wild musical burlesque, commissioned by the Geffen Playhouse and performed by the New York–based Vampire Cowboys Theatre Company, of which Nguyen is co-artistic director, Revenge Song pivots on an inspired premise but doesn’t deliver on its promise. Nor does it take a whole lot of deconstruction to figure out why; directed by Vampire Cowboys’ other artistic director, Robert Ross Parker, the performances, with a single exception, are all bluster, lacking that kernel of truth that even the silliest parody needs to make it spark.
First a few words about the historical iconoclast at the nub of the story. Her father, who worked for a prominent French count as a trainer of court pages, educated his daughter along with his pupils, meaning she learned how to read, draw and (most importantly for this story) fence, a skill unheard of for women at the time. D’Aubigny became a terrific swordswoman, reportedly using her expertise to defend other women against the unwanted harassment of men. And, she was not only exceptional with a blade — she was also a celebrated opera singer, lauded for her splendid voice. D’Aubigny also openly had affairs with both men and women; her last love was a Marquise, a favorite of the Dauphin, with whom she escaped to Belgium to live happily until her lover’s death. (She herself died prematurely at 33, the circumstances of her passing obscure.)
Rowdy and raucous by intent, the production straddles time periods, with sword fighting, rock music, puppetry and slapstick, among other elements, all tossed into an untidy mix. Jessica Shay’s colorful costumes (the best part of the production) are part period, part contemporary, part circus-theatrical, while Nick Francone’s scenic design suggests the walls of a 17th century city albeit tracked with modern-day graffiti. The production’s Julie (Margaret Odette), however, seems very much a person of our times, as she whines and pleads with her dad (Noshir Dalal) to allow her to work in the stables, ’till he finally agrees. After that we have Julie awkwardly discovering the pleasures of same-sex love with a girl named Emily (Beth Hawkes), sent to a convent by her stern father for refusing to enter an arranged marriage. Persuading a wary abbess (Amy Kim Wasschke) to admit her, Julie goes undercover in the convent and hatches a scheme to free her lady love that involves burning the convent down, a scene that aligns with actual historical accounts. In Nguyen’s re-imagining, she’s aided by Albert (Eugene Young) a young nobleman who’s smitten with her and pursues their relationship even as Julie makes clear to him it’s Emily that she wants. He also abets her in her quest for revenge against the noble (Tom Myers) who molested her as a young girl (Me Too in spades!).
Juxtaposing the old and the modern, classical images with contemporary lingo, can be a recipe for both insight and laughs. The songs, while not memorable, are good enough. Nguyen’s script, with its fair measure of acumen when it comes to human behavior, offers the possibility for a fun evening, at minimum. But Parker seems to have invested all his directorial energy in the staging and the riffs, with none left for the actors. As the pivotal personality, our link to what is surely an inspiring feminist figure, Odette is disappointing; she offers little soul behind the strident voice and swaggering bravado, and it’s impossible to care about her character. The other performances are equally one-dimensional with the exception of Hawkes, whose flirtatious and ultimately fickle Emily exhibits the only glimmer of truth in the show. This ensemble may elsewhere be capable of better things, but the bottom line here is a jejune style of performance that is simply not engaging.
Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood; Tues.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat., 3 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. & 7 p.m.; through Mar. 8. https://geffenplayhouse.org. Running time: approximately two hours with an intermission.
