Queen of Basel opens in the kitchen of a very posh hotel, where an upscale party is thriving in the adjoining ballroom. Christine (a waitress) has brought Julie here, after drinks get spilled. Julie is heiress to the Basel fortune. The man who owns the hotel (Arthur Basel) is her dad. Christine and Julie are worried that paparazzi will photograph her at an awkward moment. Julie wears a rich, dark blue gown. Christine wears her an outlandish uniform: hot pink wig, halter top, hot pants. She calls her fiance, John, an Uber driver, to rescue Julie from prying media. Julie assures them that she is fine. That none of this is necessary.
What follows is the story of three people of color, struggling to prosper, after centuries of racism and gender bias. Though playwright Hilary Bettis never says that kind of thing outright. The lives of John, Christine and Julie demonstrate their plight. Julie is forthright, practical, not really bossy, but not as deferential and solicitous as Christine. John is defensive, scrappy, but intelligent. All three have survived dangerous circumstances, overcoming countless obstacles, to achieve success proportionate to their considerable skills and talents. They are sentient, strong, smart. Not unrealistic, not unwilling to do the hard work. It’s so obvious the world is unwilling to recognize their value, it’s never said aloud.
Bettis creates an urgent, ironic dynamic between the characters. It’s not only fate, that follows them like a curse. It’s toxic humanity. Desperation tempts them to exploit each other. Under different circumstances, Christine and Julie’s roles might have been reversed. Julie may dress elegantly, but her dad takes her no more seriously than Christine; one of his waitresses in degrading clothes. Julie may be barefoot princess, but broken glass is waiting where she can’t see. For all her striving and advantages of wealth, she winds up hiding in a kitchen. Like every other woman, she’s only the “Queen of Basil.”
Kitchen Dog Theater presents: Queen of Basel, playing November 21st-December 15th, 2019. 2600 N. Stemmons Fwy, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. (214) 953-1055 Kitchendogtheater.org