Are You There God? It’s Me, a Gay

Not since Prior Walter wrestled with the Angel in Tony Kushner’s seminal Angels in America have so many memorable shows depicted gay men wrestling with religious icons and tenets. And like Belize from that same play, they want to be good people, but aren’t exactly sure how.

JEEZUS!

In its official show description, JEEZUS! announces that if it were a baby, it’d be the lovechild of Bo Burnham, Bertolt Brecht and Bad Bunny. Even with so much alliteration, who could turn down an invitation to that Sunday School lesson?

Set in Lima, Peru, this riotous queer musical follows young Jésus (Sergio Antonio Maggiolo), freshly chosen as the class altar boy at Holy Trinity Academy for his first communion, as he scrambles to purge a mortal sin beforehand so that he can avoid spending eternity in the fiery pits of hell. One solution: a marathon viewing of Franco Zeffirelli’ six-hour miniseries Jesus of Nazareth. Alas, Jésus can’t help noticing that Jesus has an undeniable six-pack as he asphyxiates to death. The mortal sin remains.

From the moment the audience files in to beloved church standards “Oh, How I love Jesus” and “Onward Christian Soldiers,” the show makes clear it will be a mad mix of faith, family and fabulousness, and it delivers grandly on all counts without ever resorting to meanness. The melodic musical numbers are consistently infectious and the humour cheeky, but no matter how outrageous the show gets it never becomes anything less than sweetly believable. In addition, and unexpectedly, because Jésus’ father is a lieutenant during the now-despised Alberto Fujimori regime, the show merrily skews the colonialism that has played such an oversized role in Peruvian history. Come for the party, take away some learning.

The most impressive magic, though, is the magnetic chemistry between the performers. The sparks between Sergio Maggiolo’s conflicted, charming Jésus and Guido Garcia Lueches’ hilarious take on everyone else (parents, priests, cousins and one very, very special guest star) prove to be irresistible. Having recently gotten engaged at a curtain call, their love for each other can’t help but fill the stage and flood off of it; these two share their love generously.

Hole!

Hole! is one cheeky hidden gem of a show. Two cheeks, actually, fully stuffed. This unapologetic, brilliant new musical by American Sing-Song (Jake Brasch and Nadja Leonard-Hooper) about a fanatical Nebraskan religious sect that comes to believe the key to surviving the forthcoming “anal rapture” is to wear a butt plugs at all times is not only one of the highlights of this year’s Edinburgh festival, it also heralds the arrival of two major talents.

The first major surprise of the show — and this reveal really isn’t a spoiler — is that the rapture happens as foretold. Most of the world is beamed up to some skyward destination unknown, asses first. Shortly thereafter, the show’s two sweet teenage protagonists, Connor and Luke, are sent out on a mission by sect leader Garth to get the few sinners who somehow survived, as “God has missed a couple.” The two chaps are not sure that everything they are being taught (“Men make meaning. Women make salad dressing.”) is right and are reluctant to go out into this brave new buttplugged land, but go they do.

First stop: Omaha, where they meet Gary, a former civil litigation attorney who doesn’t seem so evil (“He can’t be a pervert. He gave me a sweet treat.”) and who inspires the toe-tapping ditty, “The Only Guy in Omaha”. From there it’s on to Cincinnati, a city that is now reputed to be run by sexual deviants but ends up being surprising revelatory for the two young men.

Insane as Hole! may sound, and as fun as it is, Brasch and Leonhard-Hooper have managed in a rather subversive way to make potent statements about the current state of America and the influence of the cults that are now thriving in it, and how detrimental they are to the nation. But Hole! isn’t pure agitprop like EIF’s recent presentation of Cutting the Tightrope; it’s far smarter, and far more fun. As Brasch impishly tickles the keyboard and Leonard-Hooper presides over a Foley table, the two harness the audience’s imagination and never let go. What a brilliant and delightful Edinburgh début this duo is making. Bravo.

Playing Love. An Episcopal Sex Comedy.

The unsubtle subtitle of the farcical Playing Love: An Episcopal Sex Comedy holds true to its promise: these young theologian classmates are unflagging with their shagging. But the throuple of Jeffrey, Matilda and Phillip is experiencing growing pains, resulting in an ongoing rotation where one hooks up with another privately and keeps it secret from the left-out third. Mathilda (Daisy Lillingston) doesn’t see a need for the subterfuge: “One can justify our threesome theologically.” Not that anyone to prove it: “Bible Study. There’s nothing worse.”

Adding fuel to the fire is fellow seminarian Celeste (Tatiana Kneale). Celeste is in love with Mathilda but doesn’t know how to tell her, though it’s obvious to Phillip (Geordie Coles) and Jeffrey (Jonathan Stock), with the latter harboring a strong dislike of Celeste as a result. He continually fails to make her feel fully welcome in their communal flat: “You look abnormally human today, Celeste.”

Hijinks ensue, clothes come on and off, and a bust of John Wesley is constantly imperiled. It’s no accident that among the many books strewn around the flat, one by Oscar Wilde is prominently displayed on a table, as Playing Love: An Episcopal Sex Comedy is clearly inspired in large part by him. Though some of the entrances and exits aren’t quite justifiable, playwright Aidan Monks and co-directors Monks and Annabel Van Grenen have nonetheless created a delicious souﬄé of a show. And the quartet of actors is terrific, especially Lillingston, who mesmerizes late in the play as her Mathilda listens to Celeste confess her love for her. Without saying a word, Lillingston’s face conveys the painful truth that she can love Celeste only as a friend. Such honesty makes the humor in this modern-day comedy of manners hit all the harder.