Once More Into the Fringe
I took in a day and a half of the San Francisco Fringe Festival. The things I do for you people. My full report is on KQED Arts.
Hanky Panicky
Let’s get this out of the way first: There is no fantasy club in The Fantasy Club. A lot of the play is about sexual fantasies, but there’s no group of people in it who assemble to discuss them or act them out or anything like that. It’s about a young housewife and mother of two, Frances (an entertainingly conflicted Siobhan Marie Doherty), who’s decided to get back into writing, and she’s decided her new project is to write a whole book of erotic poetry. Nobody’s very supportive about this new “hobby” of hers; her best friend Sam (played by Claire Rice as wry but sluggish and zoned-out) cautions her that she hasn’t a prayer of getting published, and her husband Max (Tavis Kammet as an amiable and oblivious regular schmoe) finds the idea of her publishing something so carnal awfully embarrassing. Also, like her cooking, Frances’s writing stinks.
