Coming of Age with MilkMilk Lemonade at Washington Ensemble Theatre
Emory, a fifth-grader living on a dilapidated chicken farm, isn't much like the other boys. While the others play 'ball, Emory choreographs ribbon-dance routines. While the other boys recklessly set things afire, Emory fantasizes about the bright lights of broadway. Or he sings sons from Annie. Or he confides in Linda, a giant chicken, his best friend. No, Emory doesn't play the conventional farm-boy too well. MilkMilk Lemonade, which is running now at the Washington Ensemble Theatre, is Emory's coming-of-age story.
Pressures mount from all directions on Emory. Nana, Emory's sole caretaker, espouses the necessity of rusty social contracts, which inform one's roles and actions in spite of whatever beliefs, passions or aversions might conflict. She wants Emory to be a "regular boy."
Meanwhile Elliot, the volatile and conflicted kid-up-the-road, carries on as a boy's boy. The kind that pulls the wings off of flies or peeks up girls' skirts, possessed of a naivety, a vulgarity, a manic-depressive energy. Though Elliot begins the show as a two-dimensional cardboard cutout of a bully-monster, his journey becomes one of the more compelling aspects of the show:
It's in spite of himself that Elliot develops an overwhelming shining for Emory. Emory is not, after all, 'how a boy is supposed to be.' And so Elliot's moral framework is thrown on its ear as he begins to recognize the patient pragmatism, the integrity, the goodness on display in Emory's resolve to remain and embrace himself. Damn it if Elliot doesn't even sprout an admiration for the town pariah. Now what is he supposed to do?
While MilkMilk Lemonade deals with serious issues of social oppression and sexual identity, its tenor is generally light and enjoyable. From an omniscient, goofball stage-manager-type character in the tradition of Thornton Wilder, to the anthropomorphization of Linda, local playwright and Cornish grad Joshua Conkel doesn't hesitate to play in the realm of the absurd, which buoys the import of the core issues of the script very nicely. Perhaps this results in a few superfluous supplements to the more captivating drama--the inclusion of a malevolent spider-villain and a lengthy Andrew Dice Clay impersonation come to mind--but at the end of the day it remains a cohesive, pretty-tidy, and weird story.
One of the most important functions theater can serve is to empower. It can make us laugh as it makes us think, and so grow. If these attributes are measures of good theater, MilkMilk Lemonade is good theater.
Thursday through Monday at 7:30 p.m., through October 10 // Washington Ensemble Theatre, 608 19th Avenue East // $10 - &25, tickets available through Brown Paper Tickets
