Fringe Fight?

Does the end of the Cabaret mark a transitional moment for the festival?

by A.D. Amorosi

Fringier than thou

Lauren Lyons THE TRADITIONALIST?! Scott Johnston believes the weird, rebellious late-night cabaret is what Fringe is all about. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

In the Live Arts Festival and Philly Fringe, surprise is usually welcome. But this year, for some devotees of the annual festival of drama, dance, music and showmanship, the surprise may be an unhappy one. There'll be no more Late Night Cabaret — at least not as audiences and artists have known it.

For 12 years, the free-of-charge Cabaret — which has featured ramshackle performance artists like Carmen Martella III, poet-puppeteers like Ish Klein, burlesques like Peek-A-Boo Revue and crooners like El Vez — were, to some, the heart and soul of the Fringe. This year, however, at the direction of Live Arts/Fringe producing director and founder Nick Stuccio, advisory board member Fergie Carey (of Fergie's Pub fame) has been looking for a large "late-night chill-out space," one that would serve food, drink and DJed music — but no live cabaret performance.

"The genesis of the change is to be reactive to what I've heard the festival crowds want, what the worlds of people who work and play at the festival want — techs, volunteers, performers, fans," says Stuccio, a soft-spoken, coolly managerial type. "There are two components to the Cabaret: the hanging out — the drinking, smoking, looking for love, talking one — and the stage component with performances. And from what people are telling me — and I've got an office of 20- and 30-year-olds — the hanging and carousing part is more of what they want to do. ... This late-night chill-out space will offer audiences, friends and artists a chance to talk while being able to be heard, have a plate of good food, a couple of beers and a smoke."

"Oh, Nick cannot put the disintegration of the cabaret on his staff," says Scott Johnston with a smirk, but not a laugh. Johnston, a garrulous man who performs under the name Count Scotchula, has managed the ever-rotating cabaret space since 1997 (Fringe co-founder/program director Deborah Block and programmer Janera Solomon booked the Late Nights before him). He's also sold ads in the Festival Guide to keep the event free. He'd been steadily gathering acts for this year's Cabaret, but at the same time, Stuccio was visiting other theater/performance festivals — Brussels, in particular — and finding that the food-drink hangout was his preferred post-show event.

Johnston still does: He believes the Cabaret is key for the spirit of the festival, for the local arts community, and for the development of new talent. And so he's decided to run an alternative late-night cabaret — an unofficial, rebellious one. He's calling it the Unauthorized Unofficial Late Night Cabaret, and he's selling ads right now. "Cabaret is year-round for me. Not just once a year. It's in my blood. I'm a bible salesman. I gotta believe in my bible or I can't sell it," he says.

It will, presumably, compete with the new hang-out space during the festival, which runs Aug. 29 through Sept. 13.

When they discuss the cause of their split, Johnston and Stuccio are amicable, but clearly in disagreement. Stuccio, for instance, thinks the cost of the Late Night Cabaret is prohibitive. But while he estimates an operating budget of $30,000-$40,000 over the festival's 16 days, Johnston says that not only was he able to do it for cheaper ("around $15,000, with $5,000 of my own money made from ad sales"), he'd do this one for free and get others to donate time.

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

Still, Stuccio says he has no intention of stopping Johnston's unofficial cabaret.

"I'd love to help," he says.

And indeed, Johnston says there's no bad blood between the two men. Still, if, in attempting to keep the Fringe rebellious, Johnston has to rebel against the Fringe, it could be that his cabaret — currently being set up at locations like Silk City's soon-to-open outdoor beer garden, and featuring acts like Foetus, the Wet Spots and Animus — is proof that the festival has already changed.

"Philadelphia deserves this cabaret," he says. "I think too many of the Live Arts' board members have lost sight of that — they're too old, too focused on acts from Holland and overlooking the locals. Besides, if I cancel some of these acts now, I'll owe them money."

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)