#inspiringfellows: April

This month we are very excited to feature some local #inspiringfellows coming out of Boston University’s BFA Theatre Arts program this Spring. Scaramouche Jones—performed by Kelsie Hogue, directed by Amelia Cain and adapted as a team for their cumulative theses—played last weekend at Boston University’s “Jewels 1” Miller Studio Theatre 352 at the College of Fine Arts on 855 Commonwealth Ave.

Scaramouche Jones originally came to be as a one-man show devised by British actor, writer, and dramaturg: Justin Butcher. He created this whimsical, biographical clown’s tale for the Old Vic Theatre and, with the aid of the late great Pete Postlethwaite, brought it to many astounded audiences, including our friends in Edinburgh about ten years ago (Source: Amelia Cain).

Evoking the beloved “Raucous. Bawdy. Lyrical. True.” tagline assigned to The Dick and The Rose, our #inspiringfellows took Butcher’s piece as inspiration and adapted it into a dynamic, heart-wrenching, evocative piece of one-hour entertainment true to everything that we at the Outcast Café love about theatre. Every element of the production offered a detailed and elegant articulation of a world that only served the story of the self-ordained “Pierrot” known to us as Scaramouche Jones.

Hogue— masked as a Big Tent Pierrot—plays one of her original compositions.

The tale spans the entire 20th century from Scaramouche’s birth in 1899 to the day of his death upon which we meet. From the delightful pre-show of two Commedia-style lovers (decked out in ambiguous, artfully stained, early-20th century garb) chasing each other about the lobby (complete with big tent Admit One tickets and an active popcorn machine, inspiring a complete sensory experience) to the marvelously draped cloth and soft hanging circus bulbs, suggesting a tent above a hodge-podge of wooden chairs and antique trunks, we are doused immediately in a Sepia-toned atmosphere of the past.

Scaramouche Jones in his whimsical surroundings.

The well-articulated aesthetic held true throughout the piece, but never in a distracting way, only in pure service of the play. All of the carefully placed, and incredible creative, decisions—presumably lead by Ms. Cain—did nothing but tell the most honest of stories. Cain ‘s brilliant team must also be commended. Not a single talent goes to waste. Precise lighting (senior lighting student Andy Auyong), aforementioned gorgeous and illustrative costumes (senior costume student Emma Connelly), an inspiring set (sophomore design student Fiona Kearns) and the incredible ensemble support of two eager freshman (Kyra Tantao and Jake Cohen) breathe the utmost life into their required Stage Craft assignment: the dynamo driving Scaramouche Jones plays on the strongest of foundations.

A brief example of the stunning lighting designed by Mr. Auyong

This brilliant and most brave of Fools is the unparalleled Kelsie Hogue. Not only did Hogue compose and write over seven original songs for the piece, and performs them live on multiple instruments (you know how we feel about that kind of a thing), but she deftly, and fearlessly, takes on the role of Scaramouche himself. Delighting us, engaging us, amusing us, breaking our hearts sometimes, Hogue had no reservations about owning the most powerful element of live theatre: the relationship to the audience. She told the story with clarity, wisdom, and open ears to a very receptive opening-night house. Hogue plays with just the slightest air of self-awareness that doesn’t detract but rather wisely acknowledges the house she plays for (a raucous body of fellow students, for the most part), as well as her own age and gender twist on the piece almost in an act of full disclosure so that we may immerse ourselves in the story free from irrelevant distractions.

Hogue utilizing mime and a simplistic set to command her audience.

Hogue plays an original song on a toy piano.

Each note of her performance leads us through a maze of honest emotion. We uproariously laugh at her masquerade as a lascivious Italian prince serenading us with an operatic aria whilst pretending to rub his one-eyed snake into the first row of the audience. She recounts Scaramouche’s haunting days as a gravedigger in Nazi Germany, using her majestical guitar as a callused shovel, and then singing an overture of “I’ll make you laugh until you cry” with such purity (and lack of selfish sentimentality) as to induce a shocking catharsis. She encompasses all the “fear and delight” of the ” 50 years {it took} to make the clown, and {the} 50 years {there were} to be the clown”.