Asheville Fringe Arts Festival: Saturday

Following are reviews of the shows Dinner Bell, performed at the BeBe Theatre, and the double feature of Centrifuge and Monsters Under The Bed, performed at the Sly Grog Lounge, all presented at the Asheville Fringe Arts Festival on January 25, 2020.

Dinner Bell: A Field Guide to Impolite Southern
Dinner Conversation by Taproot

Dinner Bell takes its name seriously. Not only is most of the audience seated at actual dinner tables, complete with linens and plates, scattered around the perimeter of the black box stage of the BeBe Theatre. But there is a nontrivial amount of actual food served, including deviled eggs, biscuits and honey, chicken wings with hot sauce, and of course, Moon Pies.

These goodies are served by the cast of Dinner Bell, six young ladies dressed in flowing white who adopt personas of graceful Southern belles. The phrase “bless your heart” is chanted like a mantra at the beginning, and the first part of the hour-long show is structured like an informal dinner gathering, with the ladies swapping stories and laughter.

It is established early on, with the help of a wonderful vocalist and narrator, that this is going to be a show about the South. And it starts off hitting the themes you might expect: Southern food, hymnals, pageants and sweet tea.

But of course, the South’s raison d’être is duality: honey-sweet hospitality coupled with a vicious underbelly of racism, misogyny, and religious hypocrisy. And Dinner Bell gets really interesting when it explores this shadow side.

During a tongue-in-cheek dramatization of a “Miss Georgia pageant,” actors break character to tell vivid stories of sexual harassment from their own lives. What better metaphorical vehicle for the #MeToo movement than the South? In both cases, a horrifying culture of domination is perpetuated by secrecy, humiliation, and fear.

Although Dinner Bell consists of an all-female cast, it is not exclusively interested in misogyny. It also trains in its sights on religious fundamentalism. One actor tells a particularly bizarre story of growing up in a megachurch in Alabama, where seventh-graders were mock-killed for their religious beliefs — an attempt to teach children that they will be persecuted and perhaps killed because of their Christianity. In this world, pedophile and Senate candidate Roy Moore is lionized — and the end days may be any day now.

Naturally, it would be impossible to do a thorough examination of Southern culture without talking about race. Only two of the seven cast members are African-American, but this fact itself is gently skewered by the cast, and they end up presenting a really thoughtful and substantive critique of race relations in the South. Racism is discussed with the seriousness it deserves, but with a light touch.

During the final vignette of Dinner Bell, jars with Christmas lights are distributed around the tables and the narrator talks about a natural phenomena unique to the Smoky Mountains — simultaneous bioluminescence. This is the scientific name for when legions of fireflies sync up their flashes.

This natural phenomenon is used as a metaphor for the possibility of a New South — a region that is ruthlessly honest about its own past and that holds itself accountable for the injustices still perpetrated. This would be a South of generosity, hospitality, grace, and beauty. It would be a South not divided by historical injustices and contemporary hatred, but united in a common culture and mutual respect. Like our firefly brethren, the dream is that we all flash as one.

I don’t know if this possible, especially right now, but I sure like to think we have a shot at it. And I’m grateful for a show like Dinner Bell for articulating this shared dream in such a compelling and graceful way. It is the sort of gentle but strong message that we should expect from our best pageant queens — and everyone else, too. —Michael Poandl

(Review continues below photo)

Courtesy of The Cardboard Sea

Centrifuge by The Cardboard Sea

My name tag read “Claire.” My friend Tom’s read “Lauren.” My neighbor’s was “Blaise.” Welcome to the Camp Gabriel Reunion, and all of us audience members were in on the action.

Centrifuge is the purest comedy of all the shows I’ve seen at Fringe this year. And I don’t just say that because of the portrait of white Jesus and the Corinthians quote that sit onstage. This is a show that’s going for laughs, and it succeeds brilliantly.

The basic premise is that five old campmates have come back together after 25 years to recreate a dance they choreographed at Camp Gabriel long ago. This dance, which has a very middle school dance team vibe, is portrayed as very important, for reasons not really ever explained. But that’s okay. The important thing is that the stakes are very high for each of the characters, which of course makes their freak-outs and meltdowns all the funnier.

At the core of this quintet of old friends is Sabine, a tall blonde who clearly ran these girls back in the day. She also mysteriously vanished from Camp Gabriel 25 years before, and initially everyone thinks that no one has seen her since. But as the show unfolds, we realize that each of the other four women had some type of interaction with Sabine since that time that left one or both of them feeling resentful, guilty, or both.

Esther, the blond uber-Christian, knew that Sabine had a crush on her and led her on to make a boy jealous. Abigail used Sabine to get a good grade in college and then ditched her. Rachel let Sabine get her a job and then failed to stand up for her when Sabine got let go. And on and on. It is hilarious to see the women snap at each other in a way that only old frenemies can.

All five actors have impeccable comic timing and lean into their stylized characters. These women have known each other for a long time, and the depth of their relationships is hilariously apparent.

Centrifuge loses a bit of steam after the first 20 minutes or so; it probably works better as a long sketch than a short play. Nevertheless, this is an incredibly entertaining show that had the audience, including me, screaming with laughter. It’s a good reminder that despite all the political, dramatic, and though-provoking work at the festival this year, comedy can be fringey too. —Michael Poandl

(Review continues below photo)

Courtesy of Lau Magie

Monsters Under The Bed by Lau Magie

Monsters Under The Bed is a one-person show that incorporates singing, electric ukulele, and a very creepy monster voice to convey the struggles and resiliency of a young woman, Lau Magie. It is well-worth seeing, if only for the extraordinary original songs performed by Magie.

As in most one-person shows, Magie gets very vulnerable and shares some traumatic instances from her own life: her adoption and later re-connection with her birth mother; intense bullying; body image issues; an abusive relationship. What sets Monsters apart is the sweet and earnest personality of Magie herself. She truly seems to be going through something onstage, and it is gratifying to watch the healing process play out.

Magie also has a really extraordinary singing voice, and the three original songs she plays (using an electric ukulele, no less) are catchy and deeply felt. This is Magie’s Fringe debut, and she is definitely a local performer to watch out for. —Michael Poandl

To learn more about the Asheville Fringe Arts Festival, visit ashevillefringe.org.

AshevilleStages.com also reviewed select Fringe Arts Festival shows from Friday and Sunday.