(Photo: A license plate on display at Truck, my vote for the best gay bar in San Francisco.)So I attended the opening night performance of "It's Murder, Mary!" at the
New Conservatory Theatre on Saturday. I wasn't expecting much—the promotional materials indicated that I'd be seeing a standard queer minstrel show, with the same old
gay types trotted out for a few predictable chuckles.
Fortunately, my expectations were way off. (I should divulge that, prior to the show, I joined my friend
Michael Procopio for a martini at
Martuni's. I highly recommend this as a pre-event exercise; I can't say for sure that you'll adore this play without the help of just a little gin.)
But on to the show.
(Photo: David Bicha, Kai Brothers, and 'Drew Todd in It's Murder, Mary!)
KALE UNDERWOOD: Crime solving is hard.
BEBE BUZZBY: Hard? It's murder, Mary!
"It's Murder, Mary!" is sort of like
"10 Little Indians" for the gays, or maybe
"Eight Women" with an all-male cast. Or just think of it as Agatha Christie by way of Guerneville: a handful of hapless queens find themselves at a secluded resort, and they're killed off, one by one, according to the plotlines of classic movies like
"Rear Window" and
"Pillow Talk." Granted, the murderer's motive is a bit murky. But if you're the type who complains incessantly about motivation, you probably won't appreciate the fact that one of the characters gets impaled on a white-picket fence, or that another character suffers a psychotic episode whenever he hears
"It's a Small World." Intentional camp is tough to pull off. But the minor genius of this show—commissioned by NCTC and written by Andrew Black and Patricia Milton—is that it's smart enough to know exactly how stupid it is. You'll either appreciate that or you won't; in the latter case, I'd recommend just a little more gin.
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