Where’s My Community?

They say bisexual folks will never be satisfied. They’ll always want a boyfriend AND a girlfriend. But that’s just a stereotype, right?

It’s exactly the kind of stereotype Jarrott Productions’ newest show, Bisexual Sadness, revels in presenting before it’s gleefully dismantled. Sometimes the play sits in those bald-faced stereotypes – the toxic girlfriends, the soft beta male, the angsty teen – but to quote horror icon David S. Pumpkins, they’re part of it. Part of that big, beautiful spectrum of sexuality highlighted and litigated in India Kotis’ script.

Every time the script deals in surface tropes, it quickly calls them out before it gets too bland. Director Will Gibson Douglas leads the actors through a story that’s talky but not boring, navel-gazing but tender, stereotypical but full of nuance. We follow Faye, the titular sad bisexual, who’s preparing for her wedding to a man. As preparations happen (and as her sister’s marriage implodes), Faye works through relationship jitters and an identity crisis. Listen, this is not an action-packed play. It’s just realistic conversations, in all their circular, revelatory glory.

The absolutely masterful casting gives a shorthand for each character. Everyone’s recognizable. If I hired an artist to draw these characters based on a verbal description, they’d look like their actor. It frees the performers, letting them joyously play with the assumption before going deeper.

Picture a tall, blond bisexual with anxiety, a nervous motormouth, and a heart of gold. Whatever you’re seeing is Kelsey Mazak’s Faye.

Now think of Faye’s ex-girlfriend/current BFF Genevieve, masculine and square-jawed with a killer haircut and an even more lethal side-eye. It’s the epitome of CB Feller, exhibiting their typical brilliance in a role that could easily seem one-note. Instead it sparkles with all the colors of not just the queer rainbow, but the spectrum of rich history and personhood.

Faye’s fiancé Alex, a soft-hearted preschool teacher with a beard, a man bun, and the best array of cardigans this side of Mr. Rogers’ TV studio? Christopher Gonzalez nails the role with the gentle reassurance of those giant teddy bears Costco used to sell. Anti-toxic masculinity at its finest.

(l-r) Catherine Woodiwiss as Miranda, Kelsey Mazak as Faye, and Violet Bolton as Naomi Credit: Steve Rogers Photography

Even the characters outside the relationship triangle feel spot on. Faye’s older sister Miranda, played by Catherine Woodiwiss with perfectly timed hair tosses, manically wades through a failing marriage and her kid’s changing gender identity. She’s aggressively heterosexual. Violet Bolton’s nonbinary teen Naomi is uncomfortably real. I felt the teenage cold shoulder from feet away in the audience, that desperate longing to be understood and simultaneously left alone. 

And don’t even get me started on Jacqui Calloway as Genevieve’s poly partner Lillian, who absolutely stuns in her single scene. Ever dined with a confident queer person who seems to have everything figured out while indicting everyone less enlightened? Then you know the type. And she’s an aerialist. A word that Kotis’ script imbues with all the character description you need.

Bisexual Sadness will hit a special chord for anyone who’s specifically sought community with those of similar sexualities or gender expressions, but it also hits for those who have sought community, full stop. Anyone who has struggled to find a place, or mourned the life they could have had. Looking for solidarity? Find it in Bisexual Sadness.

Bisexual Sadness Trinity Street Playhouse  Through November 22

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