More Mad King Thomas

Editor's Note: This article was originally published as credited to Four Humors Theater. That would be an amazing feat of empathy on their part. The actual author is Laura Holway. We apologize to Laura for the error. I like the way that Mad King Thomas views the world: It’s going to hell in a handbasket, but meanwhile, let’s have a good time. I continue to follow these ladies (known in real life as Theresa Madaus, Tara King, and Monica Thomas) because their performances feel like a party that I’m personally invited to, rather than an event that’s going to occur despite my presence. They joined with their mentor, the radical Judith Howard, in presenting an evening of choreography called The League of Red Herrings this weekend at the Bedlam. There is so much to think about from this evening, but for reasons of time, space, and cohesiveness, I will stick to one section: Mad King Thomas’ The World Is Your Oyster Eat Up, Little Pearl (which had the working title We’re All Fucked; Suck My Cock). The piece is personal, irreverent, and hilarious. I bring this up because I crave this kind of performance, and I don’t get nearly enough of it. I want to see something personal, and I want to see something that reminds me of my own experience. I also mostly just want to laugh about being human. It’s funny, right? I watch a lot of serious things in the world, and the last thing I need is a bunch of spandex-clad, heavy-breathing modern dancers to remind me of this. Thankfully, last night was nothing of the kind. How does this trio make everything feel so personal, despite the gigantic universal themes? Did every audience member feel this way, or is it just because Mad King Thomas and I share the same age group, the same gender, and the just-five-years-out-of-a-liberal-arts-institution-and-this-was-not-the-adulthood-I-was-promised experience? The World Is Your Oyster Eat Up, Little Pearl reminded me that I’m not so thrilled about the prospect of being a working adult in the year 2010 (or, maybe any kind of adult), that post-puberty sexuality has never looked the way it was promised in books or the rare television show that I watched growing up, and that I do often feel conflicted over societal expectations of the word WOMAN. Writing about these themes and feelings feels trite and adolescent after watching Mad King Thomas play with them. At one point in the piece, Theresa, wearing a pink tutu, coyly tiptoed around and found herself in ballet third position, only to pull a fish out of her pants and present it to Monica and Tara. The fish was deemed gross, swept away, and later ended up neatly covered on a plate. How do you feel about your vagina? Did we, the audience, really just watch a fish come out of Theresa’s crotch????? I’m still not sure. I found myself continually questioning the presentation of “sexy” and “cute,” noticing where my eyes focused on stage (do I pay attention to Monica eating a string of pearls in the corner, or to Tara smoking while performing ballet?), and the moments I sexualized the performers. Monica sat center stage, dressed as a mermaid. Her legs were bound together, she batted her eyes, and she presented her tongue. Her tongue is long. It looked awkward and out of place at first, and then she started doing tricks with it. By god, her tongue can almost reach her nose!!!!!!!! The audience giggled and exclaimed, and I was simultaneously confused, turned on, and filled with awe. Monica Thomas has an amazing tongue! It makes noises! She can control it almost effortlessly! Hm… I feel conflicted about “sexy,” both as a person concocting it and viewing it. “Sexy” is something I am sometimes immune to (I found myself barely batting an eye at topless women in a dance performance last month), and something that catches me off guard. Yes, I did do exercises to try to increase the size of my breasts after reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret at the age of twelve. Maybe Mad King Thomas is as confused as I. Mad King Thomas felt sad and serious in their view of the world, despite the amount of giggling that I heard. I laughed a lot. But, like their last performance at the Southern Theater in the Minneapolis New Breed showing, I felt an overwhelming sadness about the state of the world. Eat Up, Little Pearl deals with a lot of un-pretty things, and it’s messy. There is family and sexuality and attraction and power and gender and facade all lumped in together, without one being clearly defined from the other. This felt like something I could relate to. The trio appears to struggle with definitions, and so does this piece, and so do most humans. In one of the rare moments of text, Theresa starts rambling, “I’m a lesbia…I mean, a feminist….I’m a nanny…a babysitter…I’m a performer! I want to be on stage! I just want to be appreciated for who I am!” or something along those lines. And somehow it wasn’t precious. Maybe this view of the world has nothing to do with being twenty-something-liberal-arts-educated- feminists at all. Maybe everyone can find a little of themselves in this work, and Mad King Thomas is just really smart about knitting together an accessible, thought-provoking performance. I am reminded that I don’t want to see a performance about puberty, or feminism, or sexuality, or the issues I have with my father, or war in a third-world country. I just want to see a performance about the experience of being human, and if it includes some or all of the above, that’s great, and if I happen to be reminded of something I am discovering in my own experience, it’s even better. And, I’d also love it if Neil Diamond’s Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon plays. Is this a selfish request? Probably.