Boulevard Studio's artistic director Mark Bucher
Before I became Milwaukee’s flannel-wearing impresario of a scruffy, rough-and-tumble theater company, I studied journalism in high school and college. I freelanced as a writer before submerging (how accurate a term) myself in the heady, unsteady realm of paraprofessional nonprofit theater. Memories of my former journalistic ambitions taunted me so furiously that I approached the Shepherd Express.
I had some ideas for articles that might illuminate some cobwebbed corners of creative culture in Milwaukee. One initial idea was to explore the ebbing or near-disappearance of a consistent presence of theatrical scripts and productions that allowed LGBTQ patrons to see themselves on stage in a variety of modes (comical, dramatic, musical), and because of this steady presence, to feel included within and by both the local theatrical commonwealth and the greater Milwaukee community.
If the memory of an East Side bastion of creativity resides in older brains, one might recall Century Hall (2340 N. Farwell Ave.), where the upstairs space hosted many itinerant theatrical offerings that showcased LGBTQ scripts (Bent, The Shadow Box, T-Shirts, to name just a few), and that utilized local performers who appeared in these charming, roustabout offerings in the 1970s and 1980s when being “gay” was less a lifestyle and more of a political stance.
This was underground theater presented in a crowded second-floor attic that likely broke a great deal of rules per city ordinances, but that—more importantly?—broke even more rules for Milwaukee in the ’70s and ’80s. Nudity, same-sex coupling and—horrors!—same-sex kissing (on the mouth!), transvestism, drag and all manners and modes of queerness (yep, that was the term, then!) were on display. Audiences loved it. Always crowded, always the place to be squeegeed next to some wonderfully attractive individual who just might be a fellow arts lover or perhaps just a lover. Alas, Century Hall burned to the ground in 1988 (a whole story in and of itself).
Later, for a brief time, the Astor Theatre (at the corner of Astor and Brady) attempted to fill the queer void with on-again, off-again offerings that occasionally provided fodder for the LGBTQ community (one-act plays by the godfather of queer theater literature, Christopher Durang, and other gay-themed presentations), while also showcasing opportunities for many LGBTQ performers who would later perform in a wide variety of latter-born theaters and companies. But the Astor also eventually succumbed and closed, but this time to smoldering embers of urban revitalization, changing cultural habits and other issues.
The venerable theatrical ensemble of Theatre X closed in 2004, and its 35-year-old reign as a template of experimental theater cannot (and should not) be reduced to a mere sentence. It fostered much creativity—and welcome employment—for local artists of “every stripe.” It viably demonstrated a queer perspective in countless ways. Its closing sadly said much more about Milwaukee than about its organization, to be sure.
There were still one or two options that bubbled up to the civic surface for queerly curious cats. But since the shuttering or slipcovering of (seemingly?) the last of Milwaukee’s sanctuaries of fully queer performance—Mark Schuster’s wonderfully scrappy performance company Theatrical Tendencies and Paul Masterson’s cultural isthmus that was the Milwaukee Gay Arts Center—it appears that the opportunities to enjoy homegrown, artisan queer culture have grown spotty, at best.
Drag performance is alive and well, and that resurgence of wild, wacky creativity undoubtedly deserves its own article. But the last two hardy survivors mentioned above ceased showcasing queer theater for several years. It’s also possible for an organization to stage a comeback, as has been implied in the case of Theatrical Tendencies. It appears, however, from a Facebook post that the last actual production was in 2016; the last post that spoke of a potential resurgence was in early March 2019.
Is There a Next Act for LGBTQ Theater?
Where is that vital new group that strives to unite Milwaukee’s LGBTQ denizens—both younger and older folk (the disparity between those factions is legend) with consistent reliance on LGBTQ issues and queer culture? My primary focus was on Milwaukee’s more independent theaters and not on the more expansively funded local arts organizations that, once in a blue moon, may stage a work that allotted stage time for queers. Often (not always), the gay characters included were sociopaths, unbalanced neurotics or the always reliable bitchy, twitchy caricatures of humanity. The latter often resembled something akin to a “Hollywood Squares” center square Paul Lynde fused with every embarrassing and sorrowful character in the theatrical canon.
These characters usually drank like a sailor and ended up shanghaied into a lonely and bitter end, if they survived at all. Many took their own lives or were banished from the play’s family unit—even, if bravely. Currently, the New York theater industry enjoys a bounty of new, vibrant (and imperfect) plays that promenade gay pride with characters who are married, raise children, have stable families and reflect LGBTQ in 2019 (such as All I Want Is One Night, Skintight, Dada Woof and Papa Hot, etc.), and these plays deal with issues of infidelity (open relationships), aging, history and children-families.
So, who in Milwaukee (Madison, like in many other aspects, is its own discussion) is staging these plays now, and why is there not a more consistent presence of these LGBTQ individuals who run the full gamut of human experience? To discover some of these answers, I sent emails and Facebook messages to almost a dozen representatives from Milwaukee’s cultural community.
This list was of a briefer nature, to be sure. With a first article, I didn’t wish to overfill my dance card with more than a dozen personalities. My Last Supper guest list included performers, directors, designers, community advocates, and recognized touchstones from the local queer community. I presented this cherry-picked list (many of whom have not gotten their due in local media) with half a dozen questions and reminded them that they did not have to answer all of the questions. Just one answer would do. I even encouraged one-word or two-word answers if that is what they wished or what time allowed. I scheduled almost four days for the jury of my queers to reply—even if only with a “Sorry, cannot participate at this time” reply.
I heard back from just one individual, who answered the entire (and exhaustive?) list of six questions: one out of 11. There were no other responses. No “I thought I would get to it, but my queer dog threw up on it” sort of responses, etc. Well, maybe this less than 10% response rate reflects some estimates of homosexuality in modern society. Maybe LGBTQ folk are simply, truly just that busy. Or?
Perchance attitudes and mores have changed so much in modern society that there’s simply no longer a genuine need for self-identified LGBTQ theater. Or conceivably, so very much of the queer identity has been so thoroughly homogenized (what an apt term, that!) into today’s America, that queers of today simply won’t support an arm of theatrical performance that distinguishes itself from the norm. Our LGBTQ family may opt to blend in and to not deviate from our larger, standard-issue culture (in all forms). Our gay brothers and sisters and everyone in-between arguably may no longer thrill to the daring defiance that distances itself from the corporate-funded behemoths of production. You know those behemoths? …the theaters that, every now and every then, throw a bone to local Milwaukee LGBTQs to keep the subscriptions flowing and to milk the end-of-year donations?
Perhaps this lack of truly proud gay plays—this absence of defiantly queer characters who won’t tastefully disappear, and this artistic deficiency of cocksure queers who are as mad, scrappy and proud as hell—simply accurately reflects a dearth in our modern family and an emerging death of queer identity.
Maybe it’s for the best, with the repressive regimes ruling with robotic rapture. It will be easier for the next generation of queers to hide behind the false bookcase, to scamper to Canada and to return to “beards” and “Boston marriages” when one’s LGBTQ identity was never much a big deal. Who wants to make a scene, anyway?
Oh, as to the sole individual who supplied some rather intriguing answers and some very provocative positions, well, like a bearded Scheherazade, I will relay that in my next article.
