[Photos by THOMAS SHEEDER]
BY AARON STELLA GAYDAR EDITOR The Dumpsta Players have done it again; this time, with their teaser-Halloween extravaganza. And how utterly timely of them to provide such gritty, yet sophisticated follow-up to an explosive night in Philly: Obama trouncing McCain once again, and the Phillies making a glorious comeback, rousing the city to pitched fever. I just clicked off the final presidential debates myself: McCain, looking like a rotten turnip with passion fruit plumper smeared across his lips, and anthropomorphizing into Darth Sidious whenever he flashed a smile; and Obama, thankfully, remained classy and unflappable to the end. Although still disoriented from the myriad analyst scorecards, I stumbled into the bathroom, threw some shit in my hair, called myself a sexy devil, and ventured off on my bike to see the real mavericks in action at Fluid.
The Dumpsta Players performance “Last House on the Right” featured an outrageous cast of characters: Cuntaleeza Rice and Siouxsie Sioux, Rev. Allawaysus Wright and Dr. Mendrakis, Alaskan “Barracuda” Hockey Mom and V.P. Nom Sadley Playin, along with daughter Bristol and baby Trig in tow, Vietnam vets still lost in battle and America’s downcast and swing-voter citizenry. Robert Drake spun the performance’s eclectic track-mix, consisting entirely of an 80’s new wave variety of course. Now in their element with the slashing blares over the speakers, and the lights dimly aglow, the DPs commenced with their glitz-grotesque campaign of mayhem.
So many of the follies and sorrows of America circa now were held up for the gentle — and sometimes not so gentle — ridicule of the Players. First off was the full ensemble in a piecemeal parade of the lower, middle, and upper class, displaying the disparities in between. All the while, Bristol, looking very pregnant, and her redneck boyfriend, engaged in some barnyard fun (aka sucking face). Then a quick drive-by at religion: Miss Jimmie Divine’s character, togged in goth-cloth’s finest, angrily blasphemed god in rebuke of organized religion. Then war came into focus. Ricky Paul, DPs’ infamous lord of misrule, garbed in Vietnam army fatigues and wielding a plastic SMG, prowled round the perimeter of the stage with a murderous glare in his eyes, while Dr. Mendrakis delivered frightening statistics from the Vietnam war. Nueva Gabor embodied the spirits of innocent war victims lost and those to come. She quivered, huddled fearfully in a cloak of black, her eyes, darting frantically as death’s cold grip tightened round her throat. And death surely came: this time, played by music wordsmith Sara Sherr. Outfitted also in gothic raiment, she lamented the innocent lost as she comforted Gabor.
Next stop, corporate greed, and how it instills the public with rapacity. Money rained down as a corporate desk jockey ecstatically hopped around, feeding the crowd gobs of money. Then Franco, as Allawaysus Right, summoned a fire and brimstone homily from his guts, while a junkie, deadbeat couple made it to third base. And lastly, the chicanery of America’s oligarchs and politicians; Cuntaleeza Rice tried to educate Sadley Playin on Foreign Policy, but Playin wouldn’t have it for all her winking and posing for the camera. Then, come voting day, Rice and Playin stuffed the ballot box, undermining once again elderly swing voters and destitute workadays.The few but faithful followers of the DPs attended that night. Unfortunately, I’m guessing it was more craze from the Phillies’ victory than post debate discussions that curbed the turnout. Nevertheless, the DPs delivered an enthralling revue, and bellowed the anguishes of America; with its economy in turmoil and it’s citizenry in thralldom.