MEDEA

Come for the filicide; stay for the beer

By JENNA SCHERER

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There's been plenty of nudity going around on the stages of Boston these days, but nobody, and I mean nobody, does full frontal like Ryan Landry.

I'll leave that tidbit and move on to the numerous other reasons why the Gold Dust Orphans' Medea is an unmissable performance from 'Landry's band of merry trannies''.

For the uninitiated: the Orphans have been around since 1995, putting on camped-out drag versions of classics like Pussy on the House, The Postman Always Comes Twice and The Plexiglass Menagerie, all penned by Landry. They perform these bedazzled concoctions on a tiny stage in the basement of Machine, Fenway's own beloved gay bar, aka the Ramrod Center for the Performing Arts.

Landry's take on Medea, a revival of his decade-old production, sticks fiendishly close to Euripides' original. Greek myth is juicy enough in and of itself that it never needs too much tweaking, anyway. And what greater fun can be had than with the tale of a Colchian witch (Landry) who slaughters her own kids (Hattie Chapeau, Deborah Downer) to get back at her asshole hubby, Jason (Mark Leahy)?

Along the road to the play's delightfully gory conclusion, the Orphans and director James P. Byrne treat us to overblown performances, glittering low-budget stage effects and even some good old-fashioned blood and guts. The designers use every hokey prop at their disposal to hilarious effect, including a wind-up bird, a trick bassinet, a disco ball helmet and a Barbie on a flying chariot.

Landry is in top form as Medea, striking melodramatic poses and lurking under blood-red stage lights. As the play's straight man (literally—he's got a wife and kids), Leahy isn't afraid to play up the beefcake vibe in a skimpy, sequined gladiator outfit. For narration, we've got Medea's long-suffering nurse, portrayed with big-eyed zeal by the semi-legendary Afrodite.

The atmosphere in the sold-out basement is enough to make a theatergoer give up the mainstream altogether. The audience, comprised of revelers and Landry cultists, packs into folding chairs toting beers and cocktails from the adjoining bar. And this isn't yer polite Huntington/A.R.T. crowd neither; this mob is very much alive, cheering and whooping back at the events onstage.

But whoever said the theater had to be a one-way street? The spirit of live drama is interaction; it wasn't until its popularity dwindled that a night at the playhouse became the staid experience of today. Hell, theater in Euripides' day was an occasion for massive orgies and week-long benders. Where have the good times gone?

Fear not, o stout-hearted theatergoer. The spirit of Dionysus is alive and well and living underneath a gay bar.

MEDEA

THROUGH 3.15

THE GOLD DUST ORPHANS AT THEATER MACHINE

1256 BOYLSTON ST.

BOSTON

866.811.4111

THU-SAT 8PM

$28

GOLDDUSTORPHANS.COM