Twilight Theater Company’s “Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche” Is a Sapphic Successor to “Dr. Strangelove”

It’s mostly just silly fun. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche (Flashback Photography )

There’s a trend in modern visual storytelling I’ve come to refer to as “historical wokeness,” i.e., stories set in the past that strip away the nostalgia of 20th century America by reminding the audience that for many citizens it was far from a golden age. Rampant repression, institutionalized bigotry, and Cold War paranoia were as much a part of the United States as baseball and apple pie—and the results of this trend can vary from insightful to pandering to patronizing, if executed poorly.

Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche, written by Evan Linder and Andrew Hobgood and now playing at the Twilight Theater Company, errs on the side of mocking the absurdity of the past. For the most part it’s successful, creating a satire of post-World War II Americana that’s sometimes biting and astute but mostly just silly fun. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Directed by Jeremy Abe, the play unfolds in January 1956 in a church basement, where the Susan B. Anthony Society for the Sisters of Gertrude Stein are meeting for their annual quiche breakfast—and though it’s a joyous occasion, tensions are simmering.

While Wren (Brit Eagan) and Dale (August Wygal) take every opportunity to photograph the occasion and Vern (Fey Devro) shows off her handiwork in converting the club’s meeting space into a fallout shelter, Lulie (Alicia Turvin, who is also Twilight’s managing director) takes time to passive-aggressively belittle newcomer Ginny (Jenny Tien) for not yet fully knowing the SBASSGS’s ways (and, presumably, for being an English immigrant).

The title of the show gives away the game in the first half, which is rife with double-entendres and knowing winks at the audience; the “widows” (as they refer to themselves) sanctify eggs and the delicious quiches they make and disparage anyone who would dare introduce meat into their most sacred dish.

There’s also a fair amount of audience participation at play. The viewers themselves are “cast” as SBASSGS members attending the breakfast, given name tags at the start of the show and occasionally called out by the sisters onstage. It’s lighthearted entertainment, but with an edge that emerges as the show approaches its second act.

That edge takes the form of an air-raid siren, as it seems that the Communists are finally making their move and turning the Cold War hot. From there the show plays out like a sapphic take on Stanley Kubrick’s satirical classic Dr. Strangelove as the sisters drop their inhibitions, reveal truths long buried and ponder a post-nuclear future where they can be free to live their truth—albeit possibly without quiche.

The back half of Quiche is both the most interesting and the most uneven. It’s where we get the most character development and enjoyably broad slapstick, but also where the tone gets shaky. This is exemplified when Dale reveals her tragic backstory, and though Wygal delivers a wonderful performance, the monologue itself can’t seem to decide if it’s darkly funny or just plain dark. It’s all clearly meant to be satirical, but it’s unclear how much the audience is meant to take seriously.

Still, all the actors turn in strong, committed performances, making it clear that they’re in on the joke. Turvin in particular offers an interesting portrait of the most morally questionable of the sisters: Lulie is sweet and soft-spoken, but capable of biting cruelty when crossed.

Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche broaches heavy subjects like repression and trauma without any real intent of engaging with them, but there’s enough fast-paced comedy and infectious earnestness to make it a breezy, silly trip to America’s past. It may be empty calories, but it’s still a dish worth savoring.

SEE IT: Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche plays at the Twilight Theater Company, 7515 N Brandon Ave, twilighttheatercompany.org. 8 pm Thursday-Saturday, 3 pm Saturday-Sunday, through Feb. 5. $23.

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