To My Girls

To My Girls

JC Lee

New Conservatory Theatre Center 

“A toast: To the reassembly of people I desperately love … This weekend is about reclaiming a glimpse of the joy we used to take for granted.  So let’s retract the claws and try to have a good time.”

After years apart from their days and nights together as twenty-somethings in New York’s gay scene, a small gaggle of friends approaching their dreaded mid-lives of forty meet at an AirBnB in Palm Springs for a weekend reunion of a blender cranking out continuous margaritas as well as jokes and jabs, gab and gossip, digs and dirt.  These millennials are ready to party hardy and to produce a drag show video that will garner a zillion likes on social media.  

But as often happens when friends and family reunite in a stage play — be it drama or comedy — not everything will quite go to plan in JC Lee’s outrageously hilarious To My Girls.  That is especially true when old, festering romances; recent, secret philandering; and a new, stab-in-the-back hook-up collide among these queens whose tongue-sharpened claws cannot help but emerge.  With doors slamming, tears flowing, and drinks continually pouring, an audience’s uproarious laughter permeates New Conservatory Theatre Center.

With half his income in L.A. coming from social media, Curtis declares, “My New Year’s resolution is to use my self-promotion to help others,” to which his fellow West Coast pal, Castro, replies, “You’re a millennial moral compass.”  Curtis has convinced his reuniting, six friends to come ready to record a Spice Girls lip-sync special with choreography remembered from their days in Chelsea clubs.  (It should be noted that Castro was pushing for the group to be Cher-nobyls, “Chers from different eras exposed to excessive radiation.”).  

As the first to arrive, these two have plenty of time to warm us up as an audience, exposing us to the snappy, snarky one-liners that permeate JC Lee’s sizzling script.  When Castro bemoans his bad luck in securing a boyfriend, Curtis assures him, “Your prince will come,” to which Castro immediately smirks, “That’s why I sleep with my mouth open.”  After Castro notes to Curtis that “for a top, you certainly have a lot of bottom energy,” Curtis asks him, “So you want a margarita?”  The reply of “What kind of homophobe question is that … Of course!” sends another wave of laughter as these initial few minutes have fully prepared us for the sharply honed, gay-infested hilarity to come.

Entering singing in full drag style the R&B band 702’s 1998 hit, “Where My Girls At,” New Yorker Leo swishes in as the now-trio goes into full-steam catching up amid high-pitched screams of laughter as they await one remaining pair — Jeff and Todd, old friends who are now a couple and evidently are late because of a mounting quarrel. 

Robert Rushin is the lily-white, tall, slim-waisted Curtis whose preference is prancing about in scant Speedos as well as bedding any passer-by who happens to be young and a twink — at least that seems to be the case, given the stories of the other two.  Calling himself a “walking dim sum,” Louel Seńores is Castro, an Asian-American full of big-smile exuberance with eyes that pop with expression, a mouth permanently set to “loud,” and hips purposefully swishy.  With scowls and frowns wonderfully delicious when reacting to the latest revelations erupting around him, James Arthur M. is African-American Leo who describes himself as “a task-oriented hoe … checklists are my kink.”

Into their midst arrives a beautifully brown-skinned Omar (Samuel de Rosario), a surprisingly shy, soft-spoken Gen Z-er whose stunning six-pack is on full display, given he only is donning a firmly packed pair of underwear.  A son of two lesbians with a biological dad who is a “gay sex researcher” (in both senses of the words), Omar is an ingredient of immediate interest for many reasons among the ‘aging’ Millennials — an addition soon to cause an eruption volcanic in scope. 

Rounding out the electrically charged cast is a gruff and grizzly, Yiddush-spewing Bernie (Tom Reardon), the Baby Boomer, gay owner of the apartment who lets it be known that his past days as the drag queen “Anita Job” was a big hit during the recession.  His best friend is his puppy dog, Sophia, an unseen character that will have a climatic role to play as the weekend continues to unfold. 

And into the fold arrives an eleventh-hour, very late Jeff (sans husband Todd), with Maro Guevara making an outlandish entrance topping all those heretofore and unleashing a hurricane of disasters that once again is great fodder for our enjoyment, if not so much for his friends.

Into his fast-paced, furiously funny script, JC Lee inserts several lessons of gay history which appear to be aimed at anyone younger than 30 in the audience.  Appearing almost like gay versions of Shakespearean soliloquies, we hear from Leo interludes about the history of gay Palm Springs, the early days of drag in San Francisco (at the Stud), and what it was like being a young Black gay among white twinks in Chelsea.  Castor adds a description of what it was like arriving in West Hollywood at a time the bar life was at its peak.  Each of these asides is entertaining; but each is also a bit disruptive in the general, otherwise quick-paced flow.

Before the lights first come up on the evening’s show, there is much to enjoy just looking at the delightful details of Matt Owens’ and J. Conrad Frank’s set and props designs, respectively.  Bernie’s apartment could be one seen in a Lucy and Desi, 1950’s sitcom episode in Palm Springs, with a few more recent ’60s-’80s additions like a Chia dog in the patio or Madonna and Tom of Finland coffee-table books.  J. Conrad Frank must have had a heyday and a half designing costumes that sometimes barely cover the essentials to ones that flamboyantly adorn the entirety of the queens on stage.  Justin A. Partier’s lighting plays big parts in establishing both the desert setting and the sudden transition to dance club feel while Kaitlin Rosen’s sound design sends us into a full-fledge drag show atmosphere.

Speaking of drag shows, Ben Villegas Randle tops off his myriad of laugh-inducing, directorial choices with an ending that proves that drag queens in heels, wigs, and Spice Girl splendor can heal all the damage done by the preceding two days of deceit, lies, break-ups, and even bloody tragedies.  What better way to get ready the Gay Pride month of June than to enjoy a quick trip to Palm Springs for New Conservatory Theatre Center’s To My Girls by JC Lee.

Rating: 4 E

To My Girls continues through June 8 , 2025, in a two hour, fifteen-minute (including one intermission) production by New Conservatory Theatre Center in the Decker Theatre, 25 Van Ness Avenue at Market Street, San Francisco, CA.  Tickets are available online at https://nctcsf.org/, by box office phone at 415-861-8972, or by email at boxoffice@nctcsf.org. 

Photo Credits: Lois Tema