THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

BY RICK REED

Fascination is the creepy compelling story of Randall Bartelman, Chicago born and bred serial killer who has snuffed the lives out of more than 40 young men and boys. A la Gacy, many of them are buried under his house; a la Dahmer, some of them melt away to bones in big tin drums; a la Bundy, all were seduced by a handsome serial killer, in the ultimate act of surrender.

'First Randall's face, a blackness completely washes over him. Then a look in his eyes, Randall's eyes, I can't even describe it. Rage. But harder than rage. Deeper. By then the boy has understood. Amazing that it takes so few moments even for such a child to notice. The whole illusion has collapsed, there is no safety. Here is death sitting on this man's lap. Night has come knocking and will enter. All that safety gone. That's the look. The fear and understanding at once, that this is doom, that there is nothing else after sitting on this couch with this man. Randall craves it. The one moment in which he could actually surprise.'

— From Fascination, by Jim Grimsley

And so begins the story of a modern midwestern serial killer built, like Frankenstein, from the pieces of many other headline-snatching monsters to become his own twisted creation. Playwright Jim Grimsley penned Fascination; Grimsley's novels Dream Boy, My Drowning, and Boulevard have won acclaim and wide readership in the gay community and beyond. About Face, the country's premiere gay, lesbian, and transgendered theater company, under the direction of Eric Rosen, is bringing Fascination to life for Chicago audiences starting in May.

Recently, I had the opportunity to chat about serial killers with Mr. Grimsley, shedding some light on a dark fascination both the playwright and society share with these provocative, shadowy monsters.

RR: OK, although I can answer this question easily for myself ( and have ) : what's the fascination with serial killers?

JG: Ultimately I don't think the true fascination is with the killers but rather with the idea of one's own death. The killer becomes interesting as a person who crosses that line, carrying a person unwillingly from life to death. Because we tend to think of this as the ultimate journey, we tend to make the killer a larger figure than he truly is. This is part of what I tried to write about.

RR: What about society in general? What do you suppose piques their interest in the serial killer?

JG: The idea of one's own death lies at the heart of this interest. The serial killer becomes a kind of mythical figure, and the real person who did the killing becomes a kind of societal abstraction. We're obsessed with the idea that we are safe in our lives; the serial killer becomes a kind of vampire hovering at the edge of that safety.

RR: Do you think that the idea of a serial killer can be romantic ( in the most literal sense ) ? Do you think the idea can be humorous, in a macabre way?

JG: The killers do become romantic figures for some types of people. Hannibal Lector is a highly romanticized portrait of a serial killer, made into a superhero, capable of getting into anyone's head, capable of escaping from any prison. As for humor, I think it's everywhere. It's not a pleasant kind of humor but it's there.

RR: Do you think these are namby-pamby ideas that clash with the reality of a deranged sociopath?

JG: No, I think the ideas are a path toward understanding why we are fascinated by killers. That said, I did want my killer to feel like the weak-hearted psychopaths about whom I read to learn how to write this play. I wanted the killer to feel squalid and ordinary and completely human.

RR: What's so great about working with About Face?

JG: The theatre has allowed me to work with great patience. Eric Rosen has been there at every turn to calm me down and keep me going with the writing. His eye for staging is second to none, in my opinion, and he was always able to tell me how a scene might work when that was important. Kyle Hall was a vital source of material, ideas, and general inspiration for the writing. The three of us made a great team.

RR: How does Fascination fit into the Jim Grimsley oeuvre? If you should be so lucky to be studied one day and someone would pick up the script of Fascination and your name was missing from it, what about it would make our future scholar say, 'Ah, this is a Jim Grimsley?'

JG: In my work there is a common thread of illuminating parts of the world that don't generally get looked at, which has led me to become a sort of poster child for human darkness. While in the case of serial killers so much has been written, much of it is too romantic or idealized. I don't believe a serial killer is a super-creature attempting to shape an ultimate freedom from social norms; I think most serial killers are poor saps who become obsessed with the line between life and death. I think this play is quite recognizably mine both in approach and in the writing itself.

RR: Is there a 'gay angle' in Fascination?

JG: Yes, we've been working on this as a gay serial killer from the outset. At one point there was a conservative-driven notion that all serial killers are gay; that's ridiculous of course, but we play with the idea in Fascination.

RR: What are you working on now? Why?

JG: A play about faith for the Alliance Theatre, a meditation on desegregation in the North Carolina school system in the late '60s and early '70s, and a new science fiction novel. There is no why to it; I simply have to work.

RR: Why should someone see Fascination?

JG: It's a hell of a scary ride.

RR: What are two blurbs you hope to see on future ads for About Face's production of Fascination?

JG: I wouldn't touch this question if my life depended on it.

BY MARY SHEN BARNIDGE

At 11:45 a.m., this will be Larry Yando's fourth—or maybe it's his fifth—interview in the last hour. It's only two weeks until The Lion King starts previews, and everybody wants to meet the actor who will play Scar, the ambitious usurper bent on seizing the throne from the murdered king's son. ( If this sounds to you like Hamlet, you're not the first. )

On this load-in day, the lobby of the ornate Cadillac Palace theatre is quickly filling wall-to-rococo-wall with trunks containing light and sound equipment, but three hastily improvised soundstages have been assembled on the mezzanine for the TV-newscasters. Half a flight up, a pair of chairs have been arranged on each of the stair landings for the print journalists to conduct their interrogations. I, however, have been stationed in the hall outside the balcony ( near the door to the men's room ) to wait for someone to deliver Yando into my aerie, where I have been informed I will have exactly 10 minutes to talk with him. Welcome to the glamorous world of Disney Productions.

There's a reason for these Hollywood-style publicity methods, however. The massiveness of this touring production requires the performers to concentrate on acclimating to its combination of music, dance, puppets, high-tech scenic effects and anthropomorphic costumes. As a professional, Yando understands this. Since winning a Jeff award in 1990 for his portrayal of the heroic Molina in Pegasus Players' Kiss Of The Spider Woman, the Poughkeepsie-born DePaul-schooled thespian has accumulated an impressive record in both comedic and dramatic roles, moving easily from classical tragedy to musical farce, lending a sly humor and infectious gemutlichkiet to everything he does.

'Larry is a true chameleon.' says Arlene Crewdson, who directed Yando in Spider Woman, 'It's sometimes difficult to recognize him from show to show.' Eileen Boevers, recalling his work at Apple Tree Theatre speaks of his 'extraordinary presence', declaring, 'He can do it ALL. He can sing, dance, act, and he charms everyone in hearing distance doing it.' Michael Halberstam of Writers Theatre sums it up, 'Larry is a fearless actor and team player—a charismatic performer whose energy illuminates the stage with a dramatic vitality.'

When Yando is finally bundled up the stairs by one of the PR assistants, the 'dramatic vitality' is beginning to flag a bit under the pressure of the morning's marathon shmoozefest, but the charm and charisma are undiminished. Indeed, the most striking feature of Yando's offstage persona is not the rugged countenance that guarantees him an easy transition from youthful to mature roles, nor the unaffected grace with which he assesses his surroundings and immediately finds his place within them, but the seductive quality of his voice—specifically, the manner in which, during the course of our talk, his tone of boyish enthusiasm will unexpectedly take on a mischievous edge, as of its owner hugging himself at enjoyment of some private amusement, his tacit invitation to share it irresistible in its ingenuousness.

MARY SHEN BARNIDGE: What kind of a name is Yando?

LARRY YANDO: People ask me that a lot. Most people think it's Eastern European, but it's French. My father was French-Canadian. It used to end in 'eaux' but someone before him changed it. Actually, it was originally 'Reviens d'eaux,' which means 'return to the waters.' I'm always told that I look sort of Scandinavian, but I'm not.

MSB: I'm told that your role in the play—which I haven't seen yet, myself—is analogous to Claudius, Simba the lion-prince being Hamlet. But you aren't very scary-looking. When Roger Ebert reviewed the film, he said that children's stories require 'dark corners that tap into primal fears and desires.' Is Scar going to do that?

LY: It would have been easy to make Scar sort of campy—he has lots of funny lines, lots of droll business. But I think that there should be a very REAL danger surrounding him. He should be taken VERY seriously. He's the Bad Brother, the one who will NEVER become king, and that's a strong motivating factor. Our director, Jeff Lee, is allowing me to embrace Scar's dark aspects.

MSB: So you're preparing for this role the same way you would for classical theatre—Shakespeare, for example?

LY: Oh, yes. Scar feels VERY Shakespearean to me. His psychology is immense—you know what I mean? He has this GREAT rage, and this GREAT pain, and this GREAT sadness, and it's so much FUN to explore that. It doesn't matter if I'm doing Angels In America or Little Shop Of Horrors, I always approach my character the same way. If you don't do that, you're not going to have a fully realized person onstage.

MSB: When Alexandra Billings played Cruella in 101 Dalmatians at Lifeline, she stepped into the lobby afterward to sign autographs with the rest of the cast, and all the children retreated in terror. Is that going to happen with Scar?

LY: You know, I'm not sure. I wear this elaborate costume and mask that I won't have on when I come out afterward, so I probably won't be as threatening. They might not even RECOGNIZE me. ( laughs ) The upside is that I won't scare the kids, and the downside is that they won't even know it's ME!

MSB: You wear an EXTREMELY elaborate costume in this show—your mask weighs almost a whole pound—and this is a very athletic show, more than for most musicals.

LY: The mask, yes, and I wear all kinds of motors and generators around my waist as well. But from the first day of rehearsal, they had us wearing them, and so we knew what we were going to do after they added more of the costume pieces. One thing you DON'T want is for all the stuff—the mask, the claws, and everything—to drown out the person, or animal, that is who you really ARE onstage.

MSB: Are Wicked Uncles expected to be as acrobatic as the youngsters?

LY: Well, I fly in the show. And I have this big fight on a staircase with Simba.

MSB: Are you doing any extra physical training in anticipation of that?

LY: Not really. I do a little warm-up in the morning, and we have a physical therapist protecting our bodies in rehearsal. And I get a massage once a week—that's something I promised myself when I took this job. To tell the truth, I'm GETTING in shape just from doing this show.

____

The publicist interrupts us then to usher Yando to the next interview. 'One more question!' I plead, but she herds the would-be-fearsome feline away with the capable efficiency of a mother cat returning a stray kitten to the nest. As I sneak a glance through the auditorium door at the vividly hued and exotically draped stage, however, I can almost hear the far-off roar of lions.

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