Casa Valentina
Casa Valentina is “inspired by events that took place in and
around the Chevalier d’Eon Resort in the Catskill Mountains in 1962,”
playwright Fierstein and director Joe Mantello say in program notes. It was at
this resort that heterosexual men who identify as women could relax and dress
as themselves, that is, dress in women’s clothing, complete with well-coiffed
wigs, perfectly applied make up, undergarments galore, jewelry and heels. (This
is an earnest, sincere tale—it is not a gay minstrel show.)
Though everything centers on gender identity, the action of
the play diverges into two concurrent arcs that help explore the issue. One is
Jonathon/Miranda’s journey, brought beautifully to life by Tony Award winner
Gabriel Ebert (Matilda). (He’s twitchy and awkward and giddy and defensive and
vulnerable. Terrific performance.) This is Jonathon’s first time at the resort,
and the first time he’s dressed and lived as Miranda outside of his basement.
(He is newly married and afraid his wife won’t understand.)
Watching his experience brings to light the camaraderie and
sisterhood these people felt for one another. From the moment he arrives, as
Jonathon, everyone, from Bessie (a delightful Tom McGowan) to the resort
owners, Rita (Mare Winningham) and her husband/in-law George/Valentina (Patrick
Page), opens their arms. When he finally changes into Miranda’s clothing, the
other ladies immediately realize he needs some help and insist on a makeover
(it’s nice, not queen bee-ish). And make her over they do, so that Jonathan
transforms into Miranda. The moment Miranda sees her made over self for the
first time is so simple and so profound. (Great direction from Mantello (Dogfight, The Other Place) throughout.)
As the story picks up the other arc, it loses a little
steam. Fierstein makes a slight detour into preachy as the ladies argue the
virtues of incorporating their sorority (i.e., filing with the IRS and becoming
an officially recognized not-for-profit organization), especially as it relates
to whether or not to allow homosexuals into the organization.
But even that slight detour opens the door for thoroughly
interesting conversations and explorations of the layered issue of gender
identity and its expression. (Or even, more broadly, discovering who we are and
letting our outward appearance show it.)
I think gender identity is something that is still vastly
misunderstood, if it’s understood at all—especially when it comes to
heterosexuals dressing in garb that is traditionally for the other gender. I
think of myself as enlightened and an LGBT ally, and I don’t fully understand
it. What is fascinating and affecting about Casa Valentina is the way it illuminates
the essence of gender identity and its inherent struggles, particularly as it
acknowledges the fact that—as also noted in the program notes—each lady has
her own reason(s) for dressing that way. (Watch Patrick Page (A Time to Kill) rip
off George’s clothes, like a feral animal, and the relief that overwhelms him
when he can breathe in the clothes that feel most natural. It’s primal,
reminiscent of the way Mark Rothko and his apprentice attacked the blank canvas
in John Logan’s Red.)
In a crowded season, and a particularly crowded part of the
season, this is easily one of my favorite plays on the boards right now.
To learn more about Casa Valentina and to purchase tickets, visit the show's website.
To learn more about Casa Valentina and to purchase tickets, visit the show's website.
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