Interview with Marvin Felix Camillo Valetine, Jr aka Panchito

The Family Rep company has a reading series March 17, 2018 at 6 PM at the Cornelia Street Cafe

1. Tell us about your father the founder of The Family and his legacy?

My father, Marvin F. Camillo, founded The Family in 1972 with Colleen Dewhurst and the assistance of Joan Potter in 1972 after conducting theater workshops in Sing Sing and Bedford Hills Prisons through The Street Theater. The company was created to give the ex-cons a place to continue their growth iin theater while allowing them to rehabilitate and adapt to outside living. Many plays were born into this company most notably Short Eyes, an OBIE and Drama Desk award winner for best play and best director (my father) which was written by Miguel Pinero, a Sing Sing inmate at the time. My father went on to successfully run The Family putting on many productions throughout the United States, parts of Europe and even Cuba, until his untimely passing in 1988. Other accomplishments of my father: Cast in South Pacific, Starred in Amiri Baraka's Dutchman, Starred as Walter Lee in The Raisin in the Sun, studied under the guidance of Vinnette Carol and his last performance noted was playing Arturo Shomburg with Miriam Colon playing his wife for CUNY TV.  

Marvin Camillo and Colleen Dewhurst

Marvin, Jr. 

2. What inspired the reading series?

My love for putting on plays and giving opportunities to anyone that wants to take that chance at something they thought they could never do. Also, I love to give people the opportunity to go see an enjoyable show and still be able to pay their rent. 

3. Your play, Petty @ The Pedi is featured as a part of the series. What inspired it?

Moments in my life! More specifically, I had a few occasions where I would go have the Green Tea Treatment at a Mani/Pedi spot and these amazingly humorous situations would occur. So in this short play, I wrote about a few of the situations and made it into one crazy scene.

Some inmates at Sing Sing from a Family Workshop

4. What is your ultimate theatre goal?

To create a community of supportive artists that uplift and support each other. I firmly believe in the African proverb Ubuntu; meaning I am because we are and to take it deeper, I eat you eat, I strive you strive, I grow you grow. 

Some family members after a fundraiser. They come in all walks of life. One might look a lil familiar. 

5. Where can people find out more about The Family?
We have a website under construction, but we are able to be seen on Facebook as The Family Repertory Company, Instagram Thefamilyrepertorycompany, Twitter TheFamRepCo and via our email thefamily.lafamilia@gmail.com. 

Everyday is Halloween (Ministry)

I have been rocking Halloween kind of hard for the last month working in my haunted house in Sleepy Hollow. Halloween was kind of bittersweet in it's own strange way. It was like the end of a long, strange, magical, and mystical journey of growth.

Although it wasn't official, I was kind of sort of head puppeteer in my tent. Each night they designated me with the walkie. Each night I did wellness checks. Each night I handled the drama if it came my way. I was also head puppeteer in a way by virtue that I was the most experienced when it came to that world. I had a good crew. Yes, they were characters in their own way but I grew to love them. I was aptly nicknamed "Tent Mom" by one.

I ran a tight ship in my own way. I wasn't a tyrant, but because of my skills as a comedy club emcee I squashed any trouble makers who came into my tent. I kept them laughing or let them know bad behavior wasn't going to be tolerated. I also kept my people calm. One night, one young woman had her glasses break as well as her puppet. It was a bad night.

I asked her how she was holding up. She replied, "I feel as if it was something I did to make this happen."

I wanted to lose my damn mind. I wanted a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of diet coke. It's what one of my mom friends confesses gets her through kid troubles at times. But then I remembered something my beloved mentor once told me about leadership. A former army officer, he told me the best way to disagree was to address the problem and not to lose your shit. So I said, "I need you to maintain a positive attitude. Do not let this temporary setback undermine the good work you have been doing all season."

It worked. Help came. But I wanted that damn pack of cigarettes, diet coke and a possible gun to my head as a girl lost her cellphone minutes later. All the while the troops were losing their morale as it was cold and the night was long. It's kind of apt that my mentor was an army officer. Because actors are more or less a platoon in costumes, and in our case we were a platoon with puppets.

My soldiers were all good for the most part. Aside from puppets breaking and other technical difficulties they fought the good fight. We had a lot of good folks come through, and some not so hot at times but their energy never wavered. Even when they had issues with the management, which the management at times was far from perfect, I can still say I was proud of the work we did as a unit. Actually, they were nothing short of delightful and I am proud of each and every one of them.

I have long since admired soldiers. After all, my Pop Pop, a second lieutenant in the Navy, had a can do attitude. My mom was struggling in math and therefore this meant it was time to rattle off addition and subtraction facts in the car on the way to swim practice. My mom, who has always been petite, struggled with upper body strength as a child, and my grandfather remedied this by installing a chin up bar. She had to do 10 coming into her bedroom and 10 going out. Theatre itself is about can do. Perhaps it is no accident my cousins and I have found ourselves in the arts.

I was proud of how I sort of stepped up as a leader during my time on this job. Maybe this makes up for all the times I was a literal trainwreck in the past decade of my life. The run is over and I am grateful. My immune system is wearing down and I am exhausted.

I will miss the opportunity to be paid to learn a new form of puppetry. Yet I will not miss long nights in the cold. I will miss channeling my beloved Crypt Keeper as a character inspiration, but will not miss the long train rides and late nights. I will miss my puppeteers and fellow cast members, but am glad for the rest and to have my weekends back for the time being.

When I think of it, every day is Halloween for me. I dress up in costume for my job. I do funny routines all the time. I am someone else constantly who is secretly an extension of myself. Either way, I am glad for the experience Sleepy Hollow gave me. It made me fall in love with the theatre all over again, as if I wasn't in love with the greatest woman ever.........

Shop At My Store

Death Threats and Other Things

The Lady and President Tramp had it's New York debut at Don't Tell Mama this past Sunday. LEading up to the show, there had been some fireworks on twitter. A man claiming to be a delegate from Michigan threatened me, and then emailed the venue saying that if they didn't pull my show he would go to the press. This individual who called himself Jack Holmes said he would take me and my message down.

He didn't. The venue didn't pull the show.

However, Don't Tell Mama received several aggressive messages, some death threats, on their facebook page. I didn't know about this until I got to the theatre. To say things were crazy is a complete understatement.

The night of the show was actually successful. At first it didn't look like it was going to be because my tech was a mini disaster. However the show itself was marvelous. The audience LOVED IT! We are even talking about doing a run. Life is good. As a bonus I didn't get shot.

The venue administration was amazing in standing behind me this entire time. When others there were panicked, the owner said the show must go on. It's free expression. It's what America is about.

Now that being said, today I feel a little unimportant. No one is threatening me. I always knew I would be close to a bullet in some way for my outspokenness. This is not the first time. However, it is the first time I could picture the bullet. That in itself was a little scary.

I have a show tonight where I am Lady Gaga. I'm not being political. My mom is relieved.

Someone sent me a message that they saw my show and it wasnt good. This person was a pro-Trumper. Who knows if it's true. People are so tough behind the internet. Either way, it has been an entertaining past few weeks.

Donald J. Tramp and Hillary Clifton debate

Puppet Shoes and Other Things

This past weekend, the one before the one coming up, was a whirlwind. Last Friday night I helped contribute to a Guinness Record for Longest Variety Show. I know I keep going on about it, but it still blows my mind that I contributed to a victory that will be in a book I used to hog constantly in my elementary school library. After that, I performed as a part of Little Laughs at Jalopy Theatre that Sunday. Thursday was spent finalizing a writing project, and Saturday preparing for Sunday.

Getting ready for the show Sunday was slightly stressful. This was in part because I was tired from being constantly on the go, but also because an audience of kids is very unpredictable. Sometimes they are with you, but when they turn God Bless America. While this is pretty rare, it does occur. More than anything, the factor that makes me reticent about kids shows are the adults involved. Sometimes the other performers are crazy, and not in a good way. Other times the organizers want you to go through all this red tape and take themselves so seriously. Or the parents are just plain rude and think that as an adult who entertains children you are utterly stupid.

This was not the case at all with the Little Laughs Show at Jalopy. The audience was wonderful, both children and parents. Not only were the young ones engaged, but their parents were as well. The host was an awesome master of ceremonies. Sure, the kids enjoyed the show but the parents laughed as well. When the parents laugh at a kid’s entertainer, that is always, always, always a good sign. The other two acts were amazing. One woman played guitar and had a story coloring book that went along with her song. Then the magician, and a magician can go either way, was both funny and skilled at his craft.

When it came for my turn, the kids were a great audience. They were rambunctious because they were into my show, but they were wonderful. These kids were gentle spirits too. One remarked that one of my puppets seemed “mean.” I never felt Sweetie Pie Kincaid and her prankster sensibilities were mean. Still, it speaks to the fact that there has been outcry against bullying, and perhaps we are headed towards a kinder, gentler generation. I found I really enjoyed these kids, and they really enjoyed the show. Afterwards, the host teasingly told me I had a stalker.

The event made me want to do more with children. I did when I was younger. In my hometown I entertained at pre-schools and such with my children, or my collection as a British journalist recently called it. I also did a show where I read bedtime stories to children called Storytime with April and Friends. Filmed on a shoestring, it aired on public access in 36 states, 6 countries, and the world wide web. During a street performance, I actually met someone who used to label my tapes. It was kind of col actually.

This past year, I have been trying to go less blue. I wasn’t originally even a dirty club comic so to speak. However spots are late at night, plus open mics are just one big, bad filth fest of easy punchlines and then off you go. Nothing against those who work dirty, God only knows I have. Heck, a lot of those folks supported me the most. Still, after a while my act was dark blue. Then again, Otto Petersen who I admired greatly, defined blue. There is nothing wrong with blue.

Yet in a way I feel ready to try for the cleaner set. Some is that I want to do more with kids again. Some is that my career is taking me on television and I don’t want to cost the network money. Some of it is I want a new challenge and am ready for it. Then lastly, some of it is that while my beloved cabaret crowd loves blue, it’s baby blue. When I did the Guinness Show, I found the crowd responded to the better written jokes than they did at the shock humor. Note: The shock humor was used to wake them up because some of them had seen nearly 6 hours of show.

I want to be funny to both kids and adults. Richard Pryor was. While most don’t know this, he had a short lived children’s show that was cancelled. It was a disagreement over money, nothing else. Still, he was good at it. Then again, Richard Pryor defined funny then and still does now.

This past Monday these thoughts poured through my head, as well as finding my chap stick. The temperature was dropping and the new year still quite new. While all the work I did in 2014 is paying off, that year nearly killed me. I can’t do another bipolar 365. While the highs were amazing, the lows were depraved in a way I never imagined. One minute I was in heaven, and then the next wandering in the Valley of the Shadow of Death wondering when I was going to get out if ever. But it gave me humility making heaven even greater than imagined.

Then I got a facebook message. Someone working the event informed me one of May Wilson’s shoes was left at the club. I had been so wiped out that I hadn’t realized our girl had lost her shoe Cinderella style. This person, bless his soul, had been kind enough to leave the shoe in the sound booth. I called the club and they told me to swing by about 5 PM.

The woman working the front, a nice lady, cabaret type, had a good sense of humor about the whole thing. “In all the time I have worked here, you are my first puppet shoe call.” She informed me laughing. There is always a first time for everything I suppose. Only days before we had all broken a world record and now they had a lost puppet shoe. Oh the times, the times…..

As I left the club, I remembered how ten years before I had decided to go for this ventriloquist thing for throttle for the first time. On cold nights like that I went from mic to mic to mic using my food money for stage time and transportation. Sometimes I did homework when others were onstage, because if I flunked out of school I had to go home. It was my mom’s rule.

The year before had the same bipolar spirit, and I remember I had almost left New York. But I didn’t. I kept fighting. This crossed my mind as I fear in a way what 2015 will bring, because the downs of the year past nearly killed me. Then I remember I kept going ten years ago, and didn’t give up. All the hard work that young woman laid down has gotten me to this point. Things are coming together, not so much because I am good at what I do, but because I have always known who I was, worked hard, and stuck to my guns.

I am that puppet girl. My puppets are pranksters but all in good fun. Sometimes they lose their shoes. Like real children I reign them in, and just like any other family, we keep going. 

www.aprilbrucker.com

Real Mutherfuckin' G's (Eazy-E)

When I was 14, I did a summer theatre intensive at The Pittsburgh Playhouse. At the time, they had a youth acting program that was pretty aggressive and well-respected. After auditioning, I was admitted. Because the Playhouse was in Oakland, I was allowed to commute by my parents. This involved a bus and trolley. In case you don’t know, a trolley is our version of a subway in Pittsburgh. Often seen on Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, the trolley travels above ground.

Having a career in the arts sometimes means you grow up rather quickly. I knew my cousin Mandy was pretty much shipped off every summer from the time she was ten to do ballet intensives taught my world renowned instructors. When she was 14, she moved to New York City where she attended Professional Performing Arts School aka Fame School. I was starting on the same journey in a way. My first few days at the Playhouse I realized how wet behind the ears I was, and how green I was when it came to life stuff. Yes, I was a kid. No, it wasn’t a good thing.

For years, I had been a weird kid at school. Not only did these kids take the cake, but they made me realize how sheltered I was. While my parents supported my career path, they let me know the second there was a change in attitude or a slip in grades the fun stopped. These kids on the other hand were a more sophisticated, much different animal that would have scoffed at such a memo.

Most of the kids had aged into the teen program through the junior program, and so they knew all the instructors, and all the instructors knew them. Not someone who was part of the feeder system, I was seemingly odd girl out. Right away, my classmates proved vicious gossips, and I heard all about the “favorites.” Yes, in theatre the person the director gives all the plum roles to. These kids trained, sang, and knew plays. I didn’t.

The population of the summer program was a mishmash of various kinds of people. There were the elitist kids from prep schools like Shady Side, and money loaded districts like Mount Lebanon, Upper St.Claire, Fox Chapel, and other places containing big houses with no furniture. Trust fund babies, they wouldn’t be caught dead working a summer job and they let anyone and everyone know it. Many also wore designer clothing to class. Granted, it was difficult to move in, but that just proved their point. This population knew all there was to know about designer coffee, and fulfilled every horrid theatre person stereotype there was. With their affected speech, they let the whole world know they were theatre people in case they had forgotten. Then again, these kinds of theatre people are the reason the world hates actors. Either way, these kids all got expensive cars as birthday gifts. No, they would never take the bus. That was beneath them.

I asked one of these girls, Katherine, if she did her high school plays. Katherine snidely purred, “I don’t do school theatre. It’s beneath my training, and it’s beneath me.”

After these kids were the city kids. Some went to the CAPA (Creative and Performing Arts) High School. Others went to Alderdice of Schenley. These kids were off the chain. Many were much more independent than I could ever dream of being, and took the bus and trolley at all hours. Their parents didn’t dare ground them, and it seemed like their parents barely cared to begin with. Many of these kids partied hard, and partied on the regular with fake ID’s. One girl, Charlotte, was dating a 30 year old dude and lying and saying she was 23. Another girl went braless one day because she had lost hers in a drunken state the night before and hadn’t gotten home. Then there was Rachael with the pregnancy scare. Emily turned to her and said, “Get an abortion. It’s no big deal. I got one two months and it was very cheap. Oh, and it’s just a day in bed.”

After the city kids were the fringe kids. These kids were basically screw ups and their parents were at the end of their rope. So they stuck them in the theatre. These kids went to alternative schools, aka holding tanks for those who couldn’t hack it in regular school. In this group there was a teen alcoholic named Mari who had just gotten out of rehab and was attending the program by day and AA by night. This was of course including but not limited to Hailey, a girl with OCD and Panic disorder, who cut herself. Add in a bi-sexual Wiccan Chandra and every stereotype that resides in the nightmares of new parents was represented. Often, they exchanged notes about which psych meds they were on which freaked me out.

Then of course there were the scholarship kids. Translated, the poor black kids. The Playhouse often went into the community to try to farm talent from less fortune homes, often from The Hill District and Homewood. Yes, the neighborhoods the cops don’t go to. While these kids were intimidating for the rich snobs, I clicked with the scholarship kids the best. None of them were perfect, heck one even had a 2 year old daughter. Note: Baby Mama and child came to performances and were wonderfully supportive of us all. However, I always found them the most real and easiest to stomach.

One in particular I took to was DeShawn Forrester. DeShawn lived in The Hill District aka The Home of August Wilson. As a matter of fact, DeShawn even did an August Wilson monologue once. A kid built like a tank, DeShawn told us it was either Broadway or the NFL. While he didn’t touch on it much, once he mentioned he had three brothers who had two different fathers. So yeah, his home life kind of sucked. Whenever he stepped on the stage, DeShawn was funny like Chris Farley. Born without a filter, DeShawn always said what was on his mind and didn’t seem to care. While it got him in trouble, it won him my respect.

As part of cast bonding and mediation, we did a drill called Jump Circle. Done no where else in the world but the Pittsburgh Playhouse, the cast stands in a circle. If one cast member has a problem with another, they walk up to them and confront them. They yell it out until the conflict is squashed. A Jump Circle is and should be supervised by a director or teacher. This way, confrontations don’t get out of hand, and a third party that isn’t directly involved can be peacemaker.

During our first Jump Circle, one of the elitist kids, a girl by the name of Heather, walked up to Deshawn and told him she was struck by his “bad attitude.” Heather then finished off by telling him he swore too much.

DeShawn quickly replied, “Well girl, all I ever hear you do is complain. You want to talk about bad attitude? If we hear one more time about how you don’t know where to park your 16^th birthday present that is more money than my house costs I think we will all knock you off your fucking block.” We all clapped in the Jump Circle. DeShawn 1, Heather 0.

Young DeShawn was rather unsupervised, and had many girlfriends in his neighborhood. Every time I spoke to DeShawn, he was having sex with someone new. We teased DeShawn about being a pimp and  a player, but DeShawn shrugged. He couldn’t help it. DeShawn was happy to send his days at the Playhouse so his ladies couldn’t compare notes. Oh problems, problems, problems.

One thing I liked about DeShawn was that he went out of his way to be my friend. Each morning, my mother made me call her when I was safely at The Playhouse. My mother always feared I would get raped or killed, even in broad daylight. It is the way she has always been. In case I was attacked, she gave me every mace and screeching device there was. One morning, I was talking to my mother and DeShawn saw me on the street. He took my mace out of my bag and sprayed it in the air. Luckily it was not a windy day. Out loud he said, “Shit, this is the stuff my mailman carries!”

Just then he reached for my screeching device. The mace had been a close call but this was going to be just plain funny. Just as I hung up the phone, DeShawn pressed the button on my screech alarm. “What the hell is this?”

“My mom thinks I am going to be attacked.” I explained. “She has protected me in every way possible.”

“Damn. You are over protected.” DeShawn observed.

“Tell my mom that.”

“Tell her you are having mad, passionate sex with a nice chocolate looking dude and you are eating him up.” DeShawn suggested. I burst out laughing. It was one of those moments where I had a friend that I would not have ordinarily met under normal circumstances, and I liked that friend.

DeShawn would go on to be my friend in other ways that summer, too. A few weeks later, as our play rehearsed, we had another Jump Circle. One girl, Stacia, had been saying some horrible things about me and my anger management problems. She claimed it was because the monologues I picked were broad characters and crazy people. This had nothing to do with me as a person, these were roles I played well. It was called acting.

Looking back, Stacia longed to be one of the cool kids in the program. She was also jealous I got a sizeable supporting role first year in, and she was stuck with a bit part. In order to fit in with the cool clique, Stacia bad mouthed me at a party. Well, the cool clique thought of her as a hanger on, and Scott, a dude who I was friends with in the in clique told me.

During jump circle I let Stacia have it. The fake little Barbie Doll had tried so hard to be one of the cool kids but wasn’t. I even told her that. Additionally, I also told Stacia that if she had something to say about my characters, she could say it to the playwright because clearly she didn’t know the first thing about acting. I also informed her she hadn’t gotten a good role because she didn’t have good talent. Stacia got in my face saying acting crazy wasn’t talent, and I only proved her right. I said I proved she was phony. The director and his assistant had to pull us apart.

After Jump Circle, DeShawn found me and gave me a hug. “You were right to give it to her. She’s a bitch.” He informed me.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Girl, I know so. Look, you are crazy, but you don’t hide it. You don’t bother anyone. She wanted to start with you and she got owned.” DeShawn observed.

The outcome of that jump circle had been that Stacia found out Scott had told me about the trash talk at the party. This of course was from our friend Mira, who wanted to squash this whole ridiculous situation. Stacia apologized to me, and in unison we turned our rage on Scott. The way Stacia went off on him, she put my so called anger management issues to shame. Then it came out Scott had a history as a shit stirrer, and he became persona non grata by the entire cast. Oh Playhouse memories.

That summer, I had spent all my time with sophisticated adolescents, so the idea of going to a suburban high school was stifling. Translated, I was slightly flipped out and my parents had a hard time containing me. I felt more adult than the “children” I shared class with. My knowledge of taboo things had grown. I was so adult. Truth: None of us anywhere were adult. We were all kids. When it came to adult things, we were all actually really dumb. Yet we thought we were so worldly, which is scary, because the state could have put a needle in our arms if we screwed up badly enough.

Time went on, and we all became grown ups, this time for real. Some of the elitist kids continued in theatre, some didn’t. Katherine ended up attending Oberlin and now works as an art curator. Her bosom buddy Chesley went on to attend Bard and then NYU graduate school and is a talent booker out in California. Leanna, who was actually kind despite her trust fund is now working as a drama director for disadvantaged kids in Washington, DC.  Of course, this was after she came out as a lesbian during her first semester at Smith. It was funny, because Leanna was boy crazy but anyway….

The city kids varied. One girl, Charlotte, went to rehab after the intensive. She sobered up, and attended Marymount Manhattan on a dance scholarship. Sadly she relapsed and overdosed a few years after college. It was no surprise given the speed many of these kids were living their lives.

However, of the city slickers most did manage to turn out alright. Many attended Point Park, because CAPA and the university have the same faculty. Charlie went to college for musical theatre, but abandoned acting to become a kindergarten teacher. He’s married with two kids. Rachael with the pregnancy scare ended up going to The Art Institute of Pittsburgh and is an industrial designer. Emily with the abortion is now a professional bodybuilder and physique model. She trains other women, and from the looks of it her life is on track.

The fringe kids all managed to grow up too. Chandra became a gay activist. Hailey went to law school. As for Mari, she made the most of her experience by becoming a drug counselor for troubled adolescents.

Stacia got rejected by all the big name acting schools and decided to be a teacher. Now she lives in Portsmouth, Maine and works with autistic children. Scott continued on in theatre, but quit and now sells used cars. Mira actually lives in LA, and has been on TV several times. Aside from me, she is the only one of us really still acting.

The one I never got an update on was DeShawn. Even after numerous internet searches. No updates, that is, until recently. Yes, I found DeShawn Forrester on facebook. From the look of his wall, it looked like he was pursuing a career as a rapper. For a time, it also seemed like he attended college at Penn State, but didn’t finish. I couldn’t tell whether DeShawn was a legit rapper in the studio banging out albums, or he was a “rapper” to impress women. Either way, his handle was the terribly unoriginal D-Zilla. Still, DeShawn was being creative and hadn’t burned out. That was a victory in itself.

Deshawn’s profile photo looked like it had been forced, as if he was taken out of bed and interrogated beforehand. Yes, an interrogation where he was yelled at by detectives. Then it occurred to me of course it was. DeShawn’s profile pic was a mug shot. There he was in state “I own your ass” orange. My mouth hung open. DeShawn was in prison!

Then as if that wasn’t enough, DeShawn had several photo albums on facebook. One was appropriately named, “Live from Federal Prison.” My mouth hung open in disbelief, disgust, disappointment, and horror. I laughed not because it was funny, but because I didn’t know what else to do. In several photos DeShawn was posed against the wall like a hardened thug. In others, he was with fellow inmates flexing his muscles. All the guys were covered in a combo of prison and street ink. Each had hands in prayer tattooed on their arms, ironic because they had at least broken one commandment to get into the predicament they were in.

As if that weren’t enough, some woman on the outside photographed a letter DeShawn had sent home. Of course she called him D-Zilla, DeShawn had been law abiding and as we know, and to some women that is so not sexy. D-Zilla was a dangerous thug, and that was hot. Did she know D-Zilla could quote Shakespeare? If she knew, he would lose his sex appeal because that woman only wanted straw for brains.

DeShawn did not disappoint his lady love going for the lowest common denominator with his letter. Mixed with rap speak and just plain atrocious grammar, DeShawn relayed that he was innocent and been framed. However, he was keeping his head up. The DeShawn I knew was so smart. Who was this moron alien that replaced him?

The gravy were DeShawn’s facebook posts. One classic was, “A lot of guys say that when you are in jail, you go gay. Bullshit, I am getting ripped. #Institutionalized.” Sigh, priorities, priorities, priorities.

Another was, “Prison upkeep, $100,000, Weight equipment $39,000, Father/Daughter time, priceless.” My mouth hung open. Then again, of course DeShawn had a child. Why stop at one bad decision when you can make a thousand?

This was followed by another post, “Daddy’s in the box and my baby girl made the honor roll. So proud of my smart little princess.” Yes, and hopefully she will make the tax payers proud too by staying out of prison.

Of course this was in between a rant against snitches. Then there was a longer rant against snitches written in all caps. Mind you, DeShawn was in minimum security, perhaps because he had snitched in the first place. Of course, DeShawn accused his fellow rappers of snitching out of jealousy. He opined, “U put D-Zilla in da den. Fuck corrxtions.” No, correct your grammar, D-Zilla.

Then our favorite rap superstar was informed by his fans that prison was just a minor setback and it would only make him stronger. DeShawn also revealed he was spitting rhymes with other inmates. Better than knife fighting or joining a gang I suppose. Then DeShawn blamed his lawyer for the mess he was in, and told the internet world he refused to pay the guy. Out of curiosity, I scrolled back further. DeShawn had been facebook posting throughout his trial. Apparently he didn’t like the judge. Wow, easiest conviction ever. D-Zilla, you are one sad Tupac rip off.

I wanted to scream, “You went to theatre camp with me! What happened! We did Jump Circle! We were in acting class all summer. I liked you.  You had a shot. When did you become suck a fucking loser wreaking of failure!”

Then I realized for as grown up as a lot of those kids thought they were, they really weren’t. They were kids. Each was wrestling with their insecure skin fumbling their way throughout the world. For some, the world was already too much. While the city kids were off the hook, it was really a reflection of the lack of adult supervision some of them had. At the time, their antics were funny. Looking back, they are actually kind of sad. Same with the elitist kids who got cars or whatever they wanted. Sure, my parents sheltered me in comparison. However, they knew adulthood had to come naturally, not with the snap of your fingers. As an adult, the memory of some of these kids makes me cringe in a way. Actually, it is an act of God more of them didn’t join Charlotte or DeShawn.

Looking back, despite all the chaos we all had the ability to be creative. When the lights came on and the curtain came up, we put our differences aside because it was show time. Through the different perspectives each of us brought, we gave The Pittsburgh Playhouse a hell of a show. Perhaps our instructors knew what they were doing when they put us all together. That in itself shows the magic of theatre and the importance of art education.

Sure, DeShawn has basically wrecked his life. However, he isn’t joining a prison gang nor is he working as an inside enforcer for a drug dealer. He is rapping. Perhaps without his Playhouse summer, DeShawn wouldn’t have that instinct let alone outlet. Also, underneath is still my buddy. Maybe he irresponsibly created a child, but at least he acknowledges that child and takes part in her life wherever he is. Can’t say the same for some of the dudes I met who have never tested the judicial system.

When he gets out, I hope he drops an album. I would buy it. After all, the rap game is filled with so many posers who grew up in suburbia that have never run the streets. In the words of Eazy-E, at least my boy is “no studio gangsta.”

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Slam Team is a Slam Dunk

When one thinks of poetry based theatre pieces, they can either be performance triumphs or utter disasters. When I heard Slam Team was such a piece, I will admit I was a tad nervous. Written by poet and playwright Gina Inzunza and directed by Marcus Yi, this was a risk. As a critic, performer, and theatergoer, I knew the experience beforehand left me with mixed emotions. However, I would soon be proven wrong. Slam Team turned out to be a slam dunk.

A well crafted tale, Slam Team is the story of four high school kids at Manhattan High School For The Arts that start an after school poetry club. All four are lovable mixtures of philosopher, out of the box thinker, and rebel without a hall pass in a blender. The characters are Lorna the founder of the club. Played believably and skillfully by Nicola McEldowney, she frequently butts heads with her father who wants her to be a violinist, but her true desire is to be in a rock band. Then there is Jonathan, the gay friend and sometimes moderate, calm foil to those around him. Portrayed with a likable vulnerability by Nick Imperato, Jonathan also battles with familial acceptance of his homosexuality as well as an absentee father who often tries to buy his son’s affection with money. Of course there is Lulu, a gifted artist who often butts heads with her strict parents. Given a quirky charm by actress Thanh Ta, she is often the comic relief who struggles with promiscuity and has shoplifted, traps some young women fall into. Lastly, to round out the group is Dario, a student from the Dominican Republic who is an illegal immigrant. Luis Restrepo gives Dario a youthful energy and a sort of freshness and is brilliantly juxtaposed with the fact the young man works and has lived well beyond his years.

During this period other themes are explored. Lulu has an obvious crush on Dario. When she sees her would be beau with his arm around another girl, her heart falls. Despite her fast pace when it comes to men, she has a soft heart and truly wants to be loved and accepted. Jonathan later finds out the girl was Dario’s cousin, a freshmen who is being made fun of because of her accent. It is later revealed both Dario and his cousin are able to attend the school because of their uncle’s work as a janitor. This is also a highlight on the racist elitism that can exist within some of the top schools still. The two begin a budding romance. Instantly, the audience is drawn to this high school love story, and through empathy, experience, and a pure wish for a happy outcome we are rooting for them.

Dario proves to be a good perspective boyfriend, and does not judge Lulu for her past with men and shoplifting. Rather, he appreciates her talent as a visual artist. With his help, Lulu moves in a positive direction and builds a website for her art.

Meanwhile, Jonathan pours his heart out revealing he had a crush that lived next door to him. He says Neighbor Boy doesn’t come around but doesn’t say why. Later it is revealed that Neighbor Boy was killed after wearing a rainbow tie. It is implied it was a gay bashing. While heavy and heart wrenching, the theme is also relevant to the struggle for LGBTQ Rights, and the unfortunate bigotry many gay teens are still subject to. Rather than anger, Jonathan turns it into art.

Lorna, meanwhile, fights to keep Dario in the US by enlisting the help of her father’s friend who is an immigration lawyer. The gang teams together, and decides to enter the talent show. They decide to do a well composed piece on freedom. However, the night of the talent show Dario is a no show. It is revealed that he has jumped a turn style because he did not have money to buy a Metro Card. Due to the fact he had no ID and was illegal, he is being detained and possibly deported.

Dario is then shown in jail orange, as he does a spoken word peace about his struggles for freedom. It is unclear whether or not he was deported, and this is never revealed. In the wake of this crisis, the Slam Team goes onstage without their lynch pin, and are at first heckled. However, Lorna then silences the heckler and begins the peace. The show ends not only in a spectacular fashion, but there is also not a dry eye in the house.

While the acting was excellent, much of the credit belongs to the creative pairing of Yi and Inzunza. The casting choices and direction were perfect, making the story believable. The tale was masterfully written with dialogue that had a nice mixture of stark realism and innocent humor. These teenagers were true embodiments of young dreamers, and as an audience we were cheering for them every step of the way. Additionally, the poetry was well written, thought provoking, high energy, and at times fun. Not many poets are also gifted playwrights. Inzunza has the rare gift of being both.

Slam Team shows this generation of writers, thinkers, and dreamers is far from being doomed. Energy for creativity and change is alive and well as it has always been. The message is, always keep an open heart, an open mind, and above all things, leave room for poetry.