Posted on 13 April 2011

By Warren Day

For the first time, before a planned opening off-Broadway this Fall, you can see the entire Mormon Boy Trilogy at the Rising Action Theater in Fort Lauderdale between now and April 24. And, on April 30 and May 1, one play in the trilogy will be at the Parliament House in Orlando.

It all seems to be a slice of a gay/Mormon fascination, beginning with the Pulitzer Prize-winning “Angels in America,” the very popular gay film “Latter Days,” the 2010 documentary “8: The Mormon Proposition” on how Mormons were mainly responsible for the anti-gay marriage amendment passing in California, and the just-opened and highly-acclaimed Broadway musical, “The Book of Mormon,” which one critic says contains the best gay song ever written.  And that’s not to mention a caboodle of gay fiction in such books as “Mormon Underwear” (yes, they do have special underwear), “Ockham’s Razor” (I don’t think they have special razors), or “The Abominable Gayman” (that may be the ultimate fundamentalist gay book title).

Gays and Mormons seem to be locked in a dance, but not moving to the same beat or hearingthe same melody.

Steven Fales has been performing his popular one-man show, “Confessions of a Mormon Boy” since 2001 where, in ways both humorous and poignant, he describes his hard scrabble journey through the closet, excommunication, divorce, working as a prostitute and a crystal meth addiction. There’s certainly enough conflict and crisis to fill a trilogy.

While I correctly label these productions as one-man shows, don’t let that discourage you from seeing them, because Fales is an accomplished performer who knows how to hold an audience, and these plays are filled with recorded voices, sound effects, songs and costume changes (and sometimes with little or no costume). You do get to see that Mormon underwear.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (their official name) is a kind of ultimate high school clique, with its own secret handshake, its DeMolay-like rituals, its low tolerance for any deviation from clique approved behavior, its dress codes, and the “we-belong-and-you-don’t” attitude. And just like cliques in high school, we find ourselves both repelled and attracted.

Part of the fascination is that Fales takes you inside where non-Mormons were never intended to go, to learn of the secret rituals and customs, although secret ceremonies seldom turn out to be as fascinating once the veil is pulled away.

“Confessions of a Mormon Boy,” the most polished of the plays, lays out Fales’ dilemma as a sixth-generation Mormon facing a choice between being honest (and thereby cast into eternal hell by his church) or being a hypocrite (and thereby seen as a poster boy for the straight and narrow).

“Missionary Positions” is a prequel to “Confessions,” dealing with his two years as a missionary in Portugal, where he struggles more with Mormonism than his sexuality, and also where he takes you inside a secret Temple ceremony, wearing his skimpy Temple garb.

In “Who’s Your Daddy,” the boy is now grown and struggling with his relationship to his straight father, and also in a battle for custody rights with his two children. It is definitely a work-in-progress, but Fales considers it the most emotionally moving of his plays.

The three plays do stand on their own, and can be enjoyed individually.

You may not be Mormon – or even religious, but there’s much in these evenings that will hit home for anyone in the GLBT community, or for those who’ve ever had to straddle two misunderstood minority groups. It is a cautionary tale of a man who often blamed others for the mistakes that were usually of his own making.

As Fales says, being a gay Mormon makes you a kind of ‘oxymormon,’ but it also grants you some hard won insight for coming to terms with who you are, no matter how big or wide the obstacles might be. The fact that he does it with so much humor and the fact that we can receive it with so much laughter shows how far he, and we, have come.

The trilogy plays until April 24 at the Rising Action Theatre, located at Sunshine Cathedral, 1480 SW 9th Avenue, Fort Lauderdale, FL 33315.

Tickets are $35 for each, or $75 for all three.

For show times for the plays, and to purchase tickets, go to www.risingactiontheatre.com.

Or you can call 1-800-595-4849 or 954-561-2225.

On April 30 and May 1, “Confessions” will be performed at the Parliament House in Orlando.

www.FloridaAgenda.com

MISSIONARY POSITION triggered many long-suppressed memories of serving a Mormon mission. There were fun times and good friendships made at the MTC and in the mission field. There were also moments of self-doubt, soul-searching, and feelings of failure. Those two years had a huge impact on the rest of my life. Watching this show, I felt like I was on my mission again.

Anyone who has served a Mormon mission will be able to relate to MISSIONARY POSITION. Late-night talks at the MTC; sharing personal stories with a companion to whom you have a particular kinship; angst regarding the work; interviews with the Mission President — all of these and many more will flood your mind as Steven empties his missionary trunk.

Seeing this show reminded me that I have my own box of missionary paraphernalia that I go through from time to time. More meaningful than the actual items are the memories and experiences acquired as a result of serving a mission. Not all of the memories are good, but the experiences shaped the person I am today. It’s good to look back once in a while. It also feels great to close that box and move on.

I saw the following shows at the Fringe: For Kingdom and Fatherland, Platinum, The Secretaries, Terms of Dismemberment, Viva La Evolucion, The Twentieth-Century Way, and I think one or two others. That was one of the best parts of being at the Fringe — seeing the shows at a discount!

Special thanks to my team: Alex Mark and Sean Lambert. We had such adventures and stories to add to our career-logs of most embarrassing and courageous moments.

Being naked onstage: I was told it was tasteful and was appropriate to the story. Mormon swearing: I probably could have gone further!

I want to do the Edinborough Fringe Festival in Scotland next year!

As Steven reads his adventures, his audience, mainly gay Episcopalians, is with him. There are rueful laughs and collective sighs. By journey’s end, the audience is won over completely. Steven’s long road to self-acceptance is one many of them have traveled. Several years after being excommunicated from the Mormon Church, he joined Epsicopalianism. His new church received him with open arms. Saint Bart’s, as it’s affectionately called, offered Steen a reading with a buffet lunc ahead of time and coffee and dessert afterward. His reading is held in the Terrace Room, a handsome, wood-paneled room that seats a hundred. Most of the chairs are filled.

Steven does an uncanny job of capturing the universal struggles of adolescence. Who as an adolescent hasn’t suffered from an unrequited love? Mine was over a boy named Bob O’Leary. Early this year I got an e-mail from Lynne Burke, the girl he married instead. Did I remember her? she wondered. For my part, howe could I forget? Listening to Steven’s recollections, I wince at their poignancy. I join the crowd in prolonged applause as Steven’s show draws to a close.

From The Creative Life by Julia Cameron coming out this fall by Tarcher/Penguin.

“Your hair! It looks wonderful! So youthful! So elegant!” He swoops me up in a bear hug. I kiss his cheek, leaving a crimson kiss. We settle onto a leather couch, giving each other a quick once-over. To my eye, Steven looks wonderful. He has just come back to New York after a grueling but satisfying run of his cabaret act, Mormon American Princess, in Provincetown, Massachusetts. He swapped his way through three venues, each one better than the last.

“I went to see ____.” He names a friend of mine who is still in the hospital. “He couldn’t talk, but we managed to have a lovely visit, reading lips.”

“That’s great.”

“He had a sparkle in his eye. I thought, Oh, good. He’s going to make it.”

“Yes, I think he is,” I agree. It occurs to me that our friend must have mixed feelings about our visits. He doesn’t want word to get out that he is ailing. He is in the midst of planning a one-man show, and a noted actor has expressed interest in playing him. Our friend would direct. It would be quite a coup if it all happened. There would be layer upon layer of artistry.

“I hope it all works out,” says Steven. “There was an actor friend of his there at the same time. He is in a Broadway show right now.”

Steven himself had a very successful off-Broadway show, Confessions of a Mormon Boy. Our ailing friend helped him to shape that show. Steven values him as a mentor.

“I have a present for you,” I say, taking out a copy of Prayers to the Great Creator, a compilation of four prayer books I have written. “I feel a little strange giving you a prayer book, knowing you have a whole collection of Mormon prayers.”

“Oh, no,” Steven says eagerly. “I’m open to any prayers. Mormons don’t have set prayers.”

“Well, then, good,” I say. “These are the concepts that undergird The Artist’s Way.” I open the prayer book to a selection from Blessings.

Steven avidly reads the prayer. ”I’m going to like having this,” he says.

Conversation turns to Steven’s career. His cabaret act went over well in Provincetown. He hopes to shape it further. He is set to make a documentary of Confessions of a Mormon Boy, and he has a date slated for a reading of this third work, Missionary Position. He is writing daily, hard at work on a memoir.

“It all sounds wonderful,” I tell him.

“It all feels good,” he answers. Then he checks his watch and does a double take.

“I’m due uptown,” he apologizes.

“Let me get you a bag for your book,” I offer.

“Thanks for the visit.”

“Thank you for the visit.” With another bear hug, he is out the door. He has an uptown meeting at four and then a pot-roast dinner party at seven. As I watch him walk to the elevator, I think he is a delightful mix of show business and apron strings.

From The Creative Life by Julia Cameron. Coming this fall and published by Tarcher/Penguin.

I hope you enjoy the interview.

“Run don walk to get your tickets.” —Amy Matheny

When I was preforming Mormon American Princess last summer in Provincetown, I attended a special service at the historic Unitarian Universalist Meeting House (which looks quite a lot like the inside of the old Mormon Temple in Kirkland, Ohio built about the same time!). It was the Blessing of the Performers led by Rev. Alison Hyder. The theatre downstairs below the sanctuary has launched Margaret Cho, Hedda Lettuce . . . and gosh, didn’t that Mormon Boy play there once?

We sang hymns like “There’s No Business Like Show Business” and “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”. We read the invocation from The Frogs by Stephen Sondheim. But what I was impressed with was the “Performers’ Litany of Gratitude”. I have adapted it from the program I kept!

PERFORMERS’ LITANY OF GRATITUDE

Leader: Let us come together as performers and producers, as stage crew and writers who love our craft. As we would gain the applause and thanks of those who watch us sing and act, dance and play, so we too, express our gratitude for all that sustains us in our struggles to excel:

Leader: For the great performers whose work first inspired and sparked our dreams:
Performers: We give applause and thanks.

For the composers, classical, layered and profound, who move us with passions beyond words:
We give applause and thanks.

And for the great songwriters: Porter, Sondheim, Cahn and Carmichael, George M. Cohan, Dorothy Fields, and all the lyricists and tunesmiths whose songs create the soundtracks of our lives:
We give applause and thanks.

For teachers and directors, who shape and improve our skills:
We give applause and thanks.

For buskers, mimes, and street musicians, who bring their art to the subways and sidewalks:
We give applause and thanks.

For the diversity of performing art, for dancers, poets, drag artists and comics, for singer-songwriters and classical actors, for musicians, lip-syncers, illusionists and accompanists, emcees, djs, singers and bands:
We give applause and thanks.

And for theaters and performance halls that frame and illuminate our art:
We give applause and thanks.

And for theaters and performance halls that frame and illuminate our art:
We give applause and thanks.

For well-made musical instruments that let us express ourselves:
We give applause and thanks.

For the set and costume creators, lighting technicians, sound engineers, and all the backstage crew: unsung, hardworking, and dedicated to their craft:
We give applause and thanks.

For producers, agents and publicists, for patrons, poster-makers and street hawkers, who get the word out for us:
We give applause and thanks.

For the sunny days when we can flier, and rains that bring the people from the beach:
We give applause and thanks.

For our voices and bodies and creative minds that channel our deepest hopes, for talent and the gifts of persistence, courage, and hope:
We give applause and thanks.

For the sore throats, broken loops and other mishaps that keep us on our toes, for exhaustion and blank minds, and for the adrenaline that give us drive.
We give applause and thanks.

For our comrades and colleagues on stage and off, who support and challenge us to greater heights:
We give applause and thanks.

For Provincetown (or New York City) audiences who come back year after year, and the fans who remember us from “Way back when” and all the fans that spread the word and lift us with their love.
We give applause and thanks.

For being able to communicate the truth through music or motion that we can’t put into words, and express the pain and joy of human life:
We give applause and thanks.

For the opportunity to be our fullest selves, and our great good fortune in the life that we share as Provincetown’s (New York City’s)
performance community, loved and admired, and encouraged for ourselves:
We give applause and thanks.

And always, especially, for the love that flows through us and into the world, and that returns to us in so many ways:
We give applause and thanks.