My online friend Red Wolf regularly gives me heads-up about anthropomorphic animal doings and similar news items he comes across, familiar as he is with my interest in the subject (not to mention my books Furry Nation and Furry Planet). A few weeks ago he told me about a musical coming to New York City (where I’m blessedly fortunate to live) called…Lizard Boy.
http://www.lizardmusical.com/
As a furry who considers the alligator his spirit animal and has a Komodo dragon fursona (and the fursuit to go with it), no way was I going to miss this show. (And thanks to the producers’ generosity, I didn’t.) To get into the spirit of the evening I wore a lizard pin in my hat and my “Lizardman of Lee County South Carolina” t-shirt. (Under my regular shirt so not to totally geek out.)
A (hopefully) brief synopsis: as a child Trevor (portrayed by Justin Huertas, the musical’s creator) was drenched in the blood of a dragon released in Mount St. Helens’ 1980 catastrophic eruption (a true event—the eruption, not the dragon) when it was slaughtered by the military (a totally imaginary event).
(Side note: Lizard Boy’s roots are in Seattle’s local theater community; a mere 96 miles from the eruption, that cataclysm has become a permanent fixture in the city’s consciousness.) The beast’s blood has permanently turned Trevor a scaly green; he now leaves his apartment a single day a year—on “Monsterfest,” the annual commemoration of the dragon’s slaying, when people (according to the show’s synopsis) “dress up as soldiers, firemen, lizards, and dragons” and Trevor’s unique appearance can be mistaken for a costume. (Except for the soldiers and firemen Monsterfest could be a very cool furcon.) Speaking of costumes, Huertas’ onstage lizardy appearance is evoked with a few green sequins affixed to his face and arms, an occasional green spotlight and a bitchin’ pair of scaly boots I wouldn’t mind owning myself.
Trying to break out of his shell, Trevor creates a Grindr profile and meets Cary (William A. Williams), who interprets Trevor’s “just looking for the moment” (temporarily checking things out) as “just looking for the moment,” as in a quickie hook-up. Cary initially comes on way too strong, frightening Trevor. In the first of the musical’s many compassionate moments Cary sincerely apologizes for his brazenness (via song because this is a musical) and the two become friends. (Later in the show they share a passionate kiss and Cary confesses “I like the scales.”)
Trevor finds himself mysteriously attracted to “Siren” (Kiki deLohr), a glamorous singer performing at the local club “The Crocodile.” (Presumably no relation to Williamsburg Brooklyn’s “Alligator Lounge.”) The trio are the musical’s entire cast—as well as its “orchestra,” accompanying themselves on cello, guitar, piano, ukulele, xylophone, beatbox…and kazoo.
Like Cary’s musical apology to Trevor, Lizard Boy contains many moments when the characters reveal their loneliness and vulnerability, moments no small number of furries can relate to. Trevor evolves from someone who wishes he could just “wipe the green away” to declaring “no more pretend,” describing one of his songs as being “about hope” and ultimately embracing who he is. (“Being different made me feel powerful…what am I? Awesome!”)
At the musical’s climax dragons return in fearsome number, just as Siren predicted. Judging by the thundering sound of its wings, a particularly enormous one lands in front of the trio; Siren wants to kill it, Cary wants to flee…but Trevor simply extends a green hand in friendship and acceptance.
Near Lizard Boy’s conclusion Trevor offers some advice that furs like myself can attest to, and people eager to judge others should consider: “No one is ‘normal’—that’s what makes us special.”
* * *
Lizard Boy over, I head to the lounge and put the drink coupon that came with my ticket to good use, selecting and downing a can of Bud Light, the brew loathed by anti-“woke,” anti-gay bigots everywhere.
###
(Thanks to the producers, The Prospect Theater Company for use of the photos; Lizard Boy is being performed at Theater Row, 410 West 42nd Street through July 1st.)