The Mistress Cycle: The Women Who Come Second

According to bookwriter/lyricist Beth Blatt, the dictionary defines "mistress" as, "someone who takes the place of a wife", declaring there is "no male equivalent." I suppose there are one or two fellas working as extra men who might take issue with that last statement, but no sense quibbling over minor details when she and composer Jenny Giering have come up with such an extraordinary and exquisite chamber musical.

The Mistress Cycle, a beguiling piece of musical theatre, explores the lives of five women who, through one set of circumstances or another, have come between a husband and wife. Whether it's a casual fling, a career in prostitution or sexual slavery, their actions are neither celebrated nor condemned. After all, it's the husband who's betraying the other woman, not her. With captivating music that easily glides in style from contemporary opera to cabaret to musical drama, strong character-driven lyrics that often amuse and occasionally stun, and a tight, efficient book that picks out common themes among the five protagonists, The Mistress Cycle is an intriguing look at "anyone who comes second".

The cast, under Joe Calarco's fluid and sympathetic direction, is exceptional. All remain on stage for the entire 90 minutes, which consists predominantly of solo story songs with connecting narration and interpretation.

Stephanie Bast plays Ching, a 14-year-old 12th Century girl who gets sold by her father to be a concubine to the Chinese Emperor. There's a bonus in it for him if she gives birth to a son. At first she is horrified, but soon grows accustomed to her daily life as "last in line". But when she gets pregnant, Bast bursts with adolescent snootiness at suddenly becoming the most important woman in China.

Lynne Wintersteller glows with angelic warmth, portraying Diane de Poitiers, the mistress of France's King Henri II of 16th Century France as a woman who enjoys the devotion of her man, respects the feeling of his wife and understands the boundaries of her position. In one of the show's finest musical scenes, she is seen trying to feed soup to the the widowed and feverish Queen Catherine, so contagious that no one else in court would dare go near her.

Mary Bond Davis, as New Orleans madame Lulu White delivers joyous and bluesy brass reminiscent of Bessie Smith; all confidence and sass until she puts her faith in the wrong man. The authors give her a jazzy double entendre number to sink her talented teeth into.

Lisa Brescia is cerebrally sexual as erotic writer Anais Nin. In another fine musical scene she reunites with her deathly ill father who abandoned her as a child. She tries to gain his approval by reading from her critically acclaimed diaries, but when he disrespects her she taunts him by reading of her casual sexual encounters.

As photographer Tess Walker, Sally Wilfert delivers the shows's more humorous material with a passionate mix of vulnerability and self-determination. I wouldn't be surprised to see her first song, "Death By 1000 Cuts", become a popular cabaret selection. It's a frustratingly long list of bad dates; guys who don't call when they say they will, one who questions her sexual preference when she won't sleep with him on the first date, one who calls her "a friend" but suddenly wants to date her when she loses 20 pounds -- you get the idea.

Michael Fagin's set is draped in traditional bordello red with five distinctively styled lighting fixtures hanging above a chaise lounge, one representing each character. By lighting only one fixture at a time, and with additional shading by lighting designer Chris Lee, the stage is easily transformed into many locations. Anne Kennedy's period costumes complete the fine visuals.

If the mind is truly the sexiest part of the body, The Mistress Cycle has got to be one of the hottest shows in town.

Photo by Bruce Glikas (l-r): Mary Bond Davis, Lisa Brescia, Sally Wilfert, Stephanie Bast and Lynne Wintersteller