Drew Droege made a big splash with his 2017 hit Bright Colors and Bold Patterns, in which his main character, Gerry, attended a gay wedding whose intendeds had asked on their invitation that nobody wear bright colors or bold patterns. Droege’s solo performance as Gerry let one know the other characters through his reactions to them. Now he is back with another solo show keyed to an important event: Happy Birthday Doug. And once again, he is making mincemeat of stereotypes in the gay world.
On this outing, Droege has reversed the situation. He plays a variety of characters who are all speaking to the birthday boy. The set (uncredited) is simply five round-topped bar tables, on which sit different drinks or glasses: a champagne glass, a wine glass, a bottle of beer, a water glass with a straw. A rear projection announces the names of the characters, and Droege launches into the show full-tilt as Jason, a flamboyant acquaintance who buttonholes Doug and won’t stop talking.
I’m so glad I’m not an actor anymore—I don’t miss it! And I guess I just reached a critical mass, total crisis, meltdown, you know, and I was just like, nope! What are you drinking? What is that? Oh God no! Are you kidding?
Droege injects sighs and gulps of air as Jason rattles on about everything, including being sober (“I post about it all the time”), therapy, and his latest ambitions. He’s a nightmare of a “friend” but hilarious company, and the segment, one of the longest in the play, is a smart and winning start to Droege’s gallery of other characters.
Jason’s claims of sobriety begin to fall apart immediately, as Brian, a waiter, asks Doug for his drink order, and declares that the nearby Jason is not sober after Jason has propositioned him for sex. Brian, an aspiring screenwriter, has taken a class with Doug, who is celebrating his 41st birthday as well as a recently published book. As Brian speaks, though, he reveals a mania for political correctness, and Droege’s writing is superb, lobbing digs at the way the resulting sensitivity to language hamstrings people with good intentions and turns them into finger-wagging bores. When Doug puts in his drink order, Brian responds, “Well, you actually can’t really call it Pinot Noir—it’s disruptive and condescending to the region…”
Among Droege’s other gay types are married men—Jackson and Harrison—who have children and interchangeable personalities; an ex named Steven, who has recently become a writer for Netflix, and displays a haughtiness that suggests the reason he and Doug broke up; and Devin, a butch friend who has slept with most of the guests at one time or another, including one of the marrieds. (In the final segment Doug yells, “Does it matter which one?”, but the author has dropped in enough clues for a listener to identify the philanderer.) Some of the characters rotate in and out of the action, and others have only a single scene, but Droege assumes their personae and projects their individuality with ease.
Droege has also selected songs to accompany the introductions of the characters, and they range from Annette Funicello to Kiki Dee. The localities that pepper the dialogue—Los Feliz, Woodland Hills—place the action firmly in the Los Angeles area. (An offhand reference to Akbar may lead one to Yelp, where it’s identified as a watering hole in Silver Lake: Lively, gay-friendly bar with an unpretentious vibe, tiny dance floor & well-stocked jukebox.) The topical references aren’t too often an obstacle to understanding or appreciating the story, however, since the context is evident, but be forewarned. If you’re tracking down Brian’s reference to the rapper CupcakKe, you’re headed for triple-X discoveries. Brian, a sometime DJ, won’t judge the performer because he’s white, she’s not, and the lyrics are “her truth,” but that comes across as Droege’s inside jab at what is, charitably, rubbish.
In a segment with a gay senior, Christopher, the references to people may be equally obscure to the younger crowd; they include Roddy McDowall, Tab Hunter and Madeline Kahn. Crucially, Christopher offers Doug advice that seems to voice Droege’s own affection for most of the characters: “You hold on to these boys. All of ’em. Even the bad ones. You all need each other more than you might think you do.”
Under the direction of Tom DeTrinis, the 60 minutes move swiftly yet feel as substantial as many longer plays. In pegging his shows to celebratory events, Droege may have found a formula that’s endless, but don’t wait around until he comes up with a tour de force about Arbor Day. Catch this one.
Drew Droege’s Happy Birthday Doug plays through March 29 at the SoHo Playhouse (15 Vandam St.). Performances are at 9 p.m. Thursday through Saturday and at 3 p.m. on Sunday. For tickets and information, visit happybirthdaydoug.com.