After over a decade of cultural dumpster diving on the Brooklyn bohemian fringe, Radiohole, New York's most deliriously debauched theater company, has babies to look out for. Two of the troupe's founding members, Erin Douglass and Maggie Hoffman, are recent moms, and the trademark bucket of beer, set out for the audience at each performance, is now accompanied by a plea for donations to their "Beers for Babies" fund. (They say the money goes for child-care, not kegs for kids.) So it makes a certain amount of sense for Radiohole, whose bracing productions are often accompanied by a chaser of self-referential surrealism, to take inspiration from the Eisenhower-era domestic melodramas of Douglas Sirk, namely his 1955 film All That Heaven Allows. more ›

Just like today's gang of socially conservative zealots, late 19th century temperance crusader Carrie A. Nation had an unshakable conviction that she was on a mission from God to purge America of vice. She'd no doubt be appalled to know that her life's work has been appropriated by the outre transgressors in Radiohole—Brooklyn's fearlessly debauched four-person theater collective—for use in their latest provocation, which also takes visual inspiration from avant garde filmmaker Kenneth Anger, whose oeuvre includes such titles as Lucifer Rising. more ›