Mixed Blood Theater is known for producing provocative plays intended to start conversations about the marginalizations people face in our society. They’ve produced many of my favorite shows, but they’ve also produced a few that left me cold — or worse. Charm by Philip Dawkins falls somewhere in the middle. There were several moments I was taken out of the show, and there were several times I was left wanting more, and not in a good way. However, the things that Charm does right are invaluable, and the cast of mostly trans and queer artists is exceptional. I absolutely think people should go see it, and support the special events happening around the show that also benefit trans, queer, and artists of color.
Charm centers primarily around Mama Darleena Andrews (played by Julienne “Mizz June” Brown), an aging trans woman who is teaching a class on charm and etiquette for underprivileged trans and queer (mostly) youth at a low-income LGBTQIA+ drop-in center. As the story progresses, we see Andrews struggle to keep up with the evolution of her community, and it’s as much about her learning to accept people as they are as it is about her teaching her students to love themselves. But it does do a good job of being about both.
Brown is a gift to the stage; her intentionally understated performance giving us more than enough to fall in love with. Meighan Gerachis’ D is the honest but straight-talking director of the center. D uses they/them pronouns. She will do anything for the youth that frequent the center but often clashes with Mama Darleena, particularly after she tells one of the students in the charm class to “pick a gender.” Each of the students has their own secrets, fluidity, or problems that they’re still coming to terms with and I can’t rave enough about this cast. One of the problems I had with the script was how unfinished a couple of the characters felt, but this cast makes a stunning ensemble with every performer giving their character a rich set of quirks and needs. More importantly, poor queer and trans people of color are rarely represented, let alone have their pain and their struggle represented. The performers of Charm make that pain and yearning ooze in every moment, even the lighter ones. It’s a hard thing to portray, the idea of being hardened but still hurting, but I can’t imagine a better cast to do so.
It’s too hard to pick a favorite cast member, though I’ve always had a soft spot for Jay Simmons, who makes his Mixed Blood debut as Beta, a trans man trying to start over after being booted from the gang he was in. Beta has a few moments of comic relief, but the character also introduces one of the hardest sets of circumstances to overcome in the play, and is among those who’s character’s come the furthest.
I’m always a fan of Nathan Barlow and Jay Owen Eisenberg, who play Logan and Lady respectively. I had some problems with Lady as a character—it is one that seemed unfinished, and the way the character’s neuroatypicality was at times met with laughter from the audience rubbed me the wrong way. Eisenberg as a talent is a force to be reckoned with though, and Lady’s breakdown addressing both that neuroatypicality and the character’s gender identity is heart-wrenching, especially when Eisenberg hits the final note, declaring Lady only wants to be touched and loved.
The love story between Barlow’s Logan and Alyssandra Taylor’s Jonelle is played beautifully by both, and continues to drive home the show’s thesis: that we all deserve and need love. This subplot also touched on the theme of gender and sexual fluidity, and Jonelle became one of my favorite characters for this reason. Much has been said by other critics about the stunning work of Rehema Mertinez’ as Ariela, the character most openly hungry for love (and who will do anything to get it), but for very good reason. Mertinez owns the stage from the second she walks on to it, and Ariela’s refusal to be apologetic for who she is while also profoundly craving love is so, so real.
The cast is rounded out by the ridiculously charming and talented Jennifer Waweru and Ryan Colbert as Victoria and Donnie, a couple facing challenges of co-parenting and sexual fluidity on top of being from a difficult neighborhood to survive in. Their biggest challenges come in learning to love and respect themselves and each other though, and Waweru and Colbert make these parts even richer. In addition to the actors being top notch, the characters each do a great job of representing different issues and facets facing trans and queer communities of color while still driving home how necessary being seen and loved still is, even in the most dire of circumstances.
The biggest problem I had with Charm was in the pacing of the script, which was incredibly uneven. Charm isn’t afraid to “go there” in addressing the issues facing trans and queer communities of color, like the gap in resources to help people who aren’t “old, young, or sick,” as Ariela states. Unfortunately, these issues are often revealed in major plot or character bombshells near the end of the play with little to no build up or denouement over them. This fact is contrasted by the first half’s incredibly long, back to back scenes of characters arguing and fighting to “set the tone”, many of which I felt could have been condensed. I believe they are there for character and setting development, and maybe I would’ve found that necessary with a lesser cast, but this phenomenal group of actors absolutely did not need to be forced to hold our hands through this.
The other major problem I had with the script was that it was set up to be a subversive take on the problematic “teacher movie” where a usually white or otherwise privileged teacher comes in to “save” or “fix” a classroom full of underprivileged students, usually with very little learning curve themselves. In many ways Charm is that, but if I’m being completely honest I think it could and should have gone a lot further in that subversion. In not exploring that further Charm also glosses over the fact that much of Mama Darleena’s persona and need for manners and neat boxes comes from a need to survive herself as someone who was once a young black trans woman. So when D, who is white, confronts her about her old-fashioned ways without acknowledging this, it left a bad taste in my mouth. It’s not that D isn’t right in that moment, but neither this show, nor the character’s history exists in a vacuum. There were a few moments like this in Charm that made me uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons.
However, one of the things I really, really love about Mixed Blood, as I mentioned earlier, is that they choose shows that start conversations. This sometimes means I won’t love everything, and I’m honestly fine with that. When critiquing a show I always look at “why this show?” and this show was largely chosen in spite of what a semi-recent, incredibly problematic American Theatre Magazine article would have you believe: That transgender artists have the opportunities they deserve in the arts. That’s not the case. There is a huge gap in representation, and Charm does it’s part to fill in at least a little of that gap by casting a large number of transgender artists.
The show was also chosen to start a conversation about trans visibility and to get the average, non-queer theatre goer to at least be aware of the issues facing one of the most marginalized communities (queer and transgender people of color living in poverty) in our society. In these goals, Charm and this production are incredibly successful. Director Addie Gorlin is well aware of these issues, and I’ve known her as an ally to a number of marginalized communities for quite some time. Her direction leads this show the right way, giving us lots to talk about and lots of trans artists to rave about for days. She also does a fabulous job of tying the loose ends in the script. There is a subplot about the protagonist’s progressing illness that culminates in the show’s climax, and it is in that crisis when all of the characters come around, and part of why I love the queer community so much is because we DO come together in times of crisis. This is a really nuanced piece of reality that many not in a queer community would be unaware of. It’s also a problematic way to build a scene artistically, but Gorlin makes it work and the cast brings their A-game to these final, crucial scenes.
Mixed Blood does one other, really radical thing completely right that I want to mention. Theatre is often seen as an elitist art form in part because of ticket pricing, and at many companies a show about poverty-stricken communities hits as tone deaf at best. Mixed Blood offers what are essentially free tickets to all of their mainstage shows through their Radical Hospitality program. Anyone can go see a show there. I’ve seen this mean that people who would normally never go to a show attend their space loyally, which brings me to my final point about Charm.
I take a lot of cues from the audience of shows. As a creator myself, I think it’s so much more important to take in how people are reacting to what’s on stage instead of pushing my own, flawed one-perspective take on it. There were many gender non-conforming and transgender people in the audience the night I went, and there were many people I know to be in community with a lot of trans and gender non-conforming people. For the most part, the show was incredibly well-received, and many audience members got really excited at “inside jokes” about our community and it’s flaws. If a show is about representation, it’s important to take note of how the people being represented feel, and in this case Charm made a lot of people feel very seen. That matters more than almost anything else one can do as an artist. It might not be the tightest script, and I even had a few problems from a social justice perspective (although it is worth noting that shows starring intensely marginalized communities often bear the brunt of sole representation, making it harder to please critical audience members), but it’s more important to acknowledge this show’s successes—especially when those successes are, as Gorlin notes in her director’s notes “to addresses the clunkiness of progress and contemporary gender politics” while being “ultimately about recognizing our collective humanity,” especially when recognizing someone’s humanity basically comes down to making sure they are heard and represented. Mixed Blood is the first company to strive for authenticity in it’s casting of Charm, and that’s troubling to me on the whole—but it does mean this production itself hits a lot of high notes that would otherwise be missed.
Charm is running through May 8th at Mixed Blood Theater. Tickets are free through Radical Hospitality, or you can reserve a guaranteed seat (and guarantee the future of Radical Hospitality) for $20 at mixedblood.com.