2026 Critics’ Choice Gay Appreciation Award winner
On behalf of Tony Leggio and myself, I am delighted to announce that the winner of this year’s Critics’ Choice Gay Appreciation Award (GAA) is Crescent City Stage’s production of Primary Trust, Eboni Booth’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play about how one damaged man confronts the world which Michael A. Newcomer directed to perfection aided by Adachi Pimentel’s precise lighting and an outstanding cast headed by Jarrod Smith, and featuring Nicole Collins, Mark Cosby, and Doug Spearman. The award was presented as part of the 36th Gay Appreciation Awards at the Marigny Opera House on Saturday, July 25.
Newcomer, who is Crescent City Stage’s Producing Executive Director, was not able to accept the award in person but wrote, “On behalf of everyone involved in bringing Primary Trust to life, our deepest gratitude for this recognition. This production exemplified who we are as an organization, uplifting diverse voices, equitable hiring practices, and bringing contemporary work that resonated so deeply with the community.”
Jarrod Smith, Nicole Collins, Doug Spearman, and Steve Gilliland in Primary Trust (photo by Brittney Werner)
He added, “While the show closed many months ago, to have it still be a part of the conversation, means everything to us here at Crescent City Stage.”
The Gay Appreciation Awards thank those individuals and businesses in the LGBTQ community who are often not recognized for the outstanding services they provide and contributions they make. Over 25 categories are voted on by Ambush Magazine readers. The Critics’ Choice Award, however, is selected by Ambush’s two culture vultures who see the vast majority of theater and performing arts events in the Greater New Orleans area.
The Rose Tattoo at Loyola’s Marquette Theatre through August 9
Among Tennessee Williams’ oeuvre, most of his plays are categorized as dramas, and understandably so; we think of the sad, wistful or ambiguous endings of A Streetcar Named Desire, The Glass Menagerie, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, among many others. Only Period of Adjustment is typically classified as a comedy.
Yet on the basis of The Tennessee Williams Theatre Company of New Orleans’ current production, a case could be made that The Rose Tattoo is, not a comedy per se, but a big, beautiful romantic comedy. Think of Moonstruck, only set in 1950 on the Gulf Coast; I suspect it’s not a coincidence that John Patrick Shanley named Cher’s character’s mother “Rose”.
In any case, this Rose Tattoo, running at Loyola’s Marquette Theatre through August 9, reminds you that Williams had a lighter side to him and sends you out into the heat of summer with a smile on your face with the thought of happy endings in this time of, too often, sad headlines.
As The Rose Tattoo begins, Serafina delle Rose, a seamstress originally from Sicily, is pregnant with her second child and blissfully happy. She madly loves her truck-driving husband Rosario and lives with him and their daughter, Rosa, in a simple but well-appointed home, nicely designed by Nathan Arthur. Then, still in the play’s opening moments, tragedy strikes–Rosario is killed in an accident and Serafina miscarries.
The action then jumps forward three years; Serafina has become virtually a recluse, still working but mostly staying inside wearing only a “dirty slip” and a kimono. Rosa is about to graduate from high school and has recently met a young sailor with whom she’s taken up. The gossipy local townswomen function as a kind of disapproving Greek chorus, similar to those in Orpheus Descending. And, in a bold move, Williams introduces Alvaro Mangiacavallo, another truck driver who helps bring Serafina back to bona fide life, only in the second act.
Director Augustin J Correro takes a more traditional approach to this Tattoo than he did in his more impressionistic 2016 production at Dillard University’s Samuel Dubois Cook Theatre. Working in the smaller space of the Marquette Theatre, Correro’s staging is well-paced, barreling through the exposition-laden first act, and he keeps the action flowing; the stage images never become static, thankfully. Not only does he coax fine performances from his leads, leaning in to the script’s overheated emotions, but, with the supporting characters, he nicely straddles the line between naturalism and caricature, seemingly as Williams would’ve wanted.
And in a wickedly daring move that pays off, Correro has Alex Martinez Wallace embody “The Black Goat”, that roots around Serafina’s property but stays off stage in the script, to marvelous comic effect, adding another fantastical layer to this fairy tale.
With her Kewpie doll face and porcelain skin, Kristin Witt might not be the first actress to come to mind for the role of the earthy Serafina. Yet in her first lead role in too long a time, Witt triumphs as the young (Serafina was merely 14 when first married) widow who only slowly sheds her grief. The emotional heart of the show, and properly so, Witt is, by turns, proud, hurt, overbearing, and anger-filled, as she tries to protect Rosa and grapples with Rosario’s unfolding legacy. Vitally connecting with Williams’ script, we wholly empathize with Witt and her Serafina.
Nick DiJulio and Kristin Witt in The Rose Tattoo (photo by Brittney Werner)
As with Witt, you might not initially think that Nick DiJulio, making his full-production local debut, is quite right for Mangiacavallo; a good-looking guy, it’s hard to believe that Serafina would describe him, literally, as she does several times, as “my husband’s body with the head of a clown”. (For this, I kinda missed Mike Spara, a local comedian, who was the 2016 Mangiacavallo and has one of those innately funny physiognomies.) Yet, like Witt, DiJulio, through his alchemical talents as a thespian, convinces us that his Mangiacavallo is indeed the “grandson of the village idiot,” but filled with the truest of hearts.
Together, Witt and DiJulio gorgeously limn their blossoming, if bumpy, romance while engaging in some well-staged physical comedy.
As Rosa, Lauren Van Mullem makes a suitably dramatic teenager, headstrong like her mother, and, appropriately disappointed when her burgeoning relationship doesn’t turn out as she hoped (I wanted to say to her “Girl, this ain’t the last time you’ll be disappointed by a man.”).
Lauren Van Mullem and Quinn Lapeyrouse in The Rose Tattoo (photo by Brittney Werner)
Portraying Jack Hunter, “Rosa’s boyfriend” as it’s listed in the program (tho, for the film version, IMDB has it as “Seaman Jack Hunter”; Williams must’ve smiled), Quinn Lapeyrouse does an exceptional job of conveying youthful innocence. You feel his attraction to Rosa, but appreciate his reluctance to consummate things with her as she wishes. Lapeyrouse wisely keeps this hesitancy ambiguous. Is it because Serafina has forced him to vow before a statue of the Virgin Mary that he will respect Rosa’s innocence? Or because of inchoate gay tendencies? Williams hints at the latter by having Hunter state that his ship will be heading to “Buenos Aires, Rio and San Francisco” (note the final port of call), but Lapeyrouse plays it, ahem, straight, refusing to tip his/Hunter’s hand, properly so for 1950 America.
In a case of luxury casting, two of the play’s smaller roles feature two of New Orleans most distinguished actresses. As Assunta, a friend to Serafina, Gwendolyne Foxworth provides warmth, compassion and wisdom. On the other hand, in the nearly wordless role of “The Strega”, owner of that mischievous goat, Janet Shea seems to be immensely enjoying herself as one of those batty women who can plague a neighborhood with their aversion to norms. A little googling reveals that “Assunta” is an Italian feminine name meaning “taken up,” referring to the Virgin Mary’s assumption into Heaven while “Strega” means “witch” in Italian; Williams seems to be contrasting this binary view of females with his more complex representation of Serafina.
The rest of the cast (Daphne Armbruster, Adam Breaux, Lalanya Gunn, Kelley Holcomb, Kalimah Williams) all do well as assorted townspeople, some nice, most not so, but special mention must be made of Desiree Burrell who, in two small turns, gives us two such completely different characterizations that one might think they were played by two different actresses.
Diane K. Baas’ lovely, evocative lighting; the sound design of Nick Shackleford with its haunting voiceovers and atmospheric music; and Brik Allen’s period-appropriate costumes (a plaid suit is a hoot), all add to the production.
Williams’ script can be a bit repetitive (after a while, you can sense when Serafina will say “Send me a sign”) but Witt & Co. find endless variations to keep such lines sounding fresh. And the Italian accents occasionally, especially in the second act, come and go. But after two and a half hours of this initially melancholic tale which evolves into a sweet and tender one, I wished it hadn’t ended, hoping for the further adventures of Serafina and Mangiacavallo.
Perhaps I should cue up Moonstruck.
[For more information and tickets, go to https://www.twtheatrenola.com/rosetattoo]
In Memoriam
I was saddened to learn only recently, via the GAA’s “In Memoriam” presentation, that Karen Shields passed away in January after a short illness. She was 68.
Born in New Jersey, Karen had lived in the New Orleans area for many years. The first time I saw her was during 2008’s Holiday season when she “gave us a less typical, more expressionistic Bette Davis impersonation which was still fun” in the campy Christmas With the Crawfords at the Marigny Theatre (now The AllWays Lounge).
Karen Shields
When I saw her in the more serious Next Fall in 2011, playing the mother of a young gay man, I wrote–
Karen Shields’ Arlene was full of down-home Southern charm, but Shields also endowed her with a certain sophistication; when she confused “tchotchke” with “cha-cha” it wasn’t due to lack of intelligence but simply that the Yiddish word for “knickknack” was completely foreign to her. In Shields’ beautiful portrait, Arlene was less sassy than [the actress playing the role] on Broadway and perhaps more rueful over her once wild ways, but just as understanding and compassionate a Mom as everyone wishes they had.
The following year, Karen began branching out into directing, successfully so, with some of the playlets of Standing on Ceremony: The Gay Marriage Plays at St. Anna’s Episcopal Church and appeared in some of them, as well, in “top form”.
More recently, Karen had been very active with Slidell Little Theater where she directed Steel Magnolias last year, and co-directed (with Kaula Johnson) Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit in 2020.
Karen was a warm, down-to-earth, playful, lovely person, who deeply cared about NOLA’s theater community. She is survived by her partner of 20 years Karen Maceira, as well as many family members and friends. She will be missed. R.I.P.
