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NEW
YORK – Charles Busch has taken on many celebrated women in his career,
but seldom have his ambitions aimed quite as high as in “Queen
Amarantha,” Busch creates
a medieval monarch whose persona is a recipe combining heaping portions
of Greta Garbo in “Queen Christina,” Sarah Bernhardt in “L’Aignon,”
Geraldine Ferrar in “Joan the Woman” and Rhonda Fleming in
God-only-knows-what.
Busch
seems to find strength in Browning’s notion of one’s reach exceeding
one’s grasp. “Queen
Amarantha” sets out for higher
artistic ground than any of the earlier Busch camp meetings like “Vampire
Lesbians of Sodom” or “Psycho Beach Party.”
Large
stretches of “Queen Amarantha” are written and played straight –
or at least straight in a sort of Cecil B. DeMille fashion. The script is less “jokey,” more of a heightened vision
of the sort of pot-boiler plays that were once the stock-in-trade of
touring companies before television, realism and common sense came into
vogue.
This
is still a Busch vehicle, and he’s written himself a part in which he
ends up playing a woman who at various times masquerades as a man, and
does love scenes as a woman, love scenes as a boy, delivers great
stirring exhortations to her people and goes head to head in a
rollicking sword battle with Ruth Williamson.
The
laughs are there, but they aren’t the barrage of bad puns and
double-entendres that mark his
earlier plays. Busch has
raised the stakes with “Queen Amarantha”: He’s taking on a style
of theater, and, while he succeeds, he’s asking more of
his audiences than ever. But,
he’s giving them a lot more, too.
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