In ‘Oh, Mary!,’ A Closeted President’s Unhinged Wife Draws Cackles
What’s more interesting, the Civil War or singing in a cabaret club?
For the lovely and limber Mary Todd Lincoln, it’s no contest, considering the war with the South prompts her to ask an important question: the South of what?
While at least 620,000 soldiers died in a conflict that still carries ramifications for the United States today, Mary isn’t thinking about that history and legacy mumbo jumbo. On her mind is much more critical business at hand, mostly involving her dream of climbing all over a piano crooning classic cabaret hits, tickling the ivories and the audience.
In ATG San Francisco’s production of Cole Escola’s Oh, Mary! at the Curran Theatre, chaos and conflict rule the day, and secrets are revealed in wild, wacky ways. It’s a show clearly not for everyone, with some seriously low-hanging fruit that the audience can snatch up immediately. Yet the play, a 2025 Pulitzer Prize in Drama finalist, is mighty bold and wonderfully irreverent, following a fictional, highly inaccurate version of the first lady in the weeks leading up to Abraham Lincoln’s assassination.
Mary (Alaska Thunderfuck) is more than bored. She’s living a suffocating and banal life while spending way too much time with some guy named Jack Daniels, prancing all over the house in a gargantuan black hoop dress and curls that scream bratty (and a strange, perfectly coiffed bun that’s the centerpiece of her hair game). Her frustration with her top-hat hubby (John-Andrew Morrison) is that he just can’t lay off this Civil War stuff for an evening to ravage her with steamy passion.
Turns out the Civil War is kind of important, and since Mary yearns for a stage, her husband decides to pay for acting lessons with a wonderful but maybe not-so-talented teacher (Wesley Taylor). While Mary is distracted, things get steamy in secret between her husband and his assistant (Michael Lepore).
Does the husband want Mary to become the next Dame Ellen Terry? That would be a hard no, considering he could care less about what she does, as long as it’s far away from him. Acting lessons, though, are a dissatisfying consolation prize for what Mary truly wants: a return as a singular sensation in cabaret, the greatest art form known to civilization. After all, theater is where cabaret stars go to die.
There are a few others who catch strays from Mary’s razor-sharp tongue. Her chaperone Louise (Pooya Mohseni) has one job and even fails at that. The play’s pace is outstanding within its tight run time of 75 minutes. Sam Pinkleton’s direction lands each closing scene with sharpness, providing the audience ample opportunities to cackle in the dark.
These opportunities are built around Thunderfuck’s scintillating set of skills, a star vehicle that Escola himself crushed in my 2024 Broadway viewing. The role hinges on the performer’s nuance. For Thunderfuck, it’s the pensive teeth-sucking and dropping perfectly timed one-liners as Mary processes her new reality in each discovered moment. Notice the quick thinking when Mary realizes she doesn’t have her handy Shakespeare script and hilariously improvises the nurse in Romeo and Juliet at a critical audition. This new nurse is less Shakespearean and more like a Dickensian villain.
Thunderfuck possesses an uncanny ability to move through space with sleek sheen and maximum slitherance. Her physical prowess as a highly regarded drag star, in complete control of her body and its every gesture, is a constant delight.
Thunderfuck’s co-stars tee her up early and often, while being superb in their own right. Mary’s husband and his rough-and-tumble bouts with her are all about his never-ending frustration. Morrison marvels with his chaotic, closeted inner monologue. As Louise, Mohseni delivers balcony-reaching reactions that hit perfect notes within this irreverent and campy style. And Taylor’s turn as the tempestuous teacher is all riot, bounding all over the stage while leading with his booty.
There are strict regulations about spoiling the ending, which shall not be done here. However, what does come in the play’s final scene is a real hoot. The denouement is not just a commitment to camp, but a love letter to the art of drag and all its magic.
To borrow from Gen Z, this play and that ending are just stupid, which is one heckuva compliment.
‘Oh, Mary!’ runs through Nov. 1 at the Curran Theatre in San Francisco. Tickets and more information here.