Take a script originally written in French by an Irishman in the 1890s — drawn from a Biblical story soaked in blood, sex, and scandal — add layers of 1990s pop culture references, and somehow the end result has the audience laughing from start to finish.
Oscar Wilde’s Salome, presented as a comedic homage to the 1990s by the Rude Mechanicals in residence at Greenbelt Arts Center, sounds absurd, and it is. Yet it succeeds precisely by fully and self-consciously embracing its own absurdity.
To appreciate the Rudes’ reinterpretation, it helps to have some familiarity with the source material, which is provided as a complete synopsis in the show’s program — spoilers freely given. Herod (De’Maryo Platt), tetrarch of first-century Judaea, has imprisoned prophet Jokanaan (Dylan Nicholson) for publicly criticizing his marriage to Herodias (Darcella Owens), ex-wife of Herod’s brother. Salome (Celia Richardson), Herodias’ daughter and Herod’s stepdaughter, is weary of the constant gaze of her stepfather and infatuated with Jokanaan, who is completely uninterested in her. When Herod demands that Salome dance for him at a palace party, she initially refuses until he offers to give her anything she wants. After she dances in front of her stepfather and his guests, Salome asks for the head of Jokanaan — and refuses to let Herod back down from his promise.
The role of Salome was a difficult one in Wilde’s day — his play was censored in England until the 1930s — and even more so in our era of reckoning with #MeToo and the Epstein files. Celia Richardson tackles the role head-on, in full control of the sexy schoolgirl trope. Her costume, designed by Linda “Spencer” Dye (who doubles as one of Herod’s courtiers), perfectly channels Alicia Silverstone’s yellow plaid ensemble from Clueless, down to the knee-high socks. Yet Richardson plays Salome as anything but clueless. Petulant and stubborn, she is accustomed to getting what she wants and refuses to yield to her stepfather’s demands until she can extract what she wants from him in return.
Having imprisoned and executed his own brother, married his brother’s wife, and been sexually obsessed with his underage stepdaughter, Herod the tetrarch is another role difficult to perform in Wilde’s day or our own. Clad in a gold bell-bottom tracksuit, laughing at his own jokes as he stumbles across the stage with an ever-present goblet of wine, and retching at the sight of blood, De’Maryo Platt plays the tetrarch as a buffoon, consciously making the ruler’s power impossible to take seriously. (Herod’s wife, Herodias, played by Darcella Owens with a withering contempt for her husband, most certainly doesn’t take him seriously.) Alan Duda’s set design and props — including rainbow-colored geometric shapes on the wall behind Herod’s throne, splatters of green paint evoking slime on the steps leading up to the throne, and a collection of 1990s memorabilia including Pokemon cartridges, a Tickle Me Elmo, and an original PlayStation console — gives the impression that the tetrarch’s palace is equal parts Nickelodeon set and ’90s kid bedroom, further accentuating the ruler’s ridiculousness.
In addition to satirizing sexual and power dynamics and tropes, the Rudes’ version of Salome engages in what director Wes Dennis refers to in his program note as “comedic lampshading of certain issues connected to the experience of black people in majority white settings and specifically in theatre.” Dennis’ choice to have Richardson’s Salome deliver Wilde’s original lines fetishizing prophet Jokanaan’s body (“Thy body is white like the snows that lie on the mountains…”) and demand to touch Jokanaan’s hair, while casting Black actor Dylan Nicholson as the prophet, pointedly and comically illuminates these racial dynamics. Delivering his condemnations of Herod’s family in Steve Urkel’s high-pitched voice while wearing Urkel’s iconic red plaid shirt, rainbow-striped suspenders, flood pants, and oversized glasses and recoiling from Salome’s advances, Nicholson dials the play’s ’90s nostalgia and comedic awkwardness up to 11 every time he is on stage.
The Rudes’ ensemble cast of palace guards, courtiers, and party guests also deliberately leans into ’90s pop culture and stereotypes to comic effect. Maya Catoe (Page of Herodias) and Becca Korn (Narraboth, captain of the guard) appear in full costume as Woody and Buzz from Toy Story, delighting the audience. Dressed in black leather, studded bracelet, and oversized ankh necklace and baring his teeth in a vampiric grin behind black lipstick every time blood or death is mentioned, Tone Arce’s exaggerated Goth, a palace visitor, also stands out. None of the performances are subtle — but they aren’t meant to be.
An audience member on opening night accurately described the Rude Mechanicals’ Salome as a “fever dream of a play.” Yet within this fever dream, every seemingly random detail, from the juxtaposition of Wilde’s original script with iconic ’90s movie lines, to the costumes (right down to the name ANDY scrawled on the bottom of Narraboth/Buzz’s boot), to the preshow soundtrack featuring Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” and Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle,” comes across as intentionally and carefully chosen. Mounting Wilde’s biblically inspired and often censored tragedy as a 1990s comedy, while consciously skewering racial, sexual, and power dynamics along the way, is a daring choice by director Dennis and the Rudes — and one that they clearly enjoy every minute of performing.
Running Time: Two hours and 15 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission.
Salome plays through May 16, 2026, presented by The Rude Mechanicals performing at Greenbelt Arts Center, 123 Centerway, Greenbelt, MD. All remaining performances start at 8:00 PM. To purchase tickets ($24, general admission; $22, senior/military; $12, child/student), call (301) 317-7964 or go online. The performance on Thursday, May 14, is pay-what-you-can (minimum $5).
Salome
Original script by Oscar Wilde
Directed by Wes Dennis
CAST
De’Maryo Platt: Herod
Darcella Owens: Herodias
Celia Richardson: Salome
Dylan Nicholson: Jokanaan
Tommy Stack: Tigellinus
Maya Catoe: Page
Becca Korn: Narraboth
Kelci Friend: 1st Soldier
Marianne Virnelson: 2nd Soldier
Charlie Suchi: Roman
Tone Arce: Goth
Linda “Spencer” Dye: Bender
A’Nya Ross: Solver
CREW
Wes Dennis: Director
Liana Olear: Producer, Stage Manager
Marianne Virnelson: Assistant Stage Manager
Alan Duda: Assistant Director, Special Effects, Stage Design
Peter Orvetti: Apprentice Director
Jeff Poretsky: Technical Director, Lighting Design
Summer Moore: Dance Choreographer
Stephen Duda: Sound Consultant
Samuel Kopel: Sound Engineer
Chris Dullnig: Master Carpenter, Lighting Operator
Stephen Cox: Sound Operator
Robert Evans: Stage Crew
Linda “Spencer” Dye: Costume Design
Becca Korn: Sewist
