The following article appeared on the front page of the Life section of the San Jose Mercury News, September 4, 2000.

Under the Kilt, Over the Top:
Fringe troupers describe the appeal of the annual S.F. Festival

Karen d'Souza, Mercury News

DAVID CHARLES Scarpelli is no stranger to the rough-and-tumble that is life on the fringe theater circuit.

Fresh from the ivory towers of Yale, he once made a pilgrimage to the mecca of alternative performance, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland. When he actually landed a gig on the outskirts of the prestigious showcase (playing improvisation games at a pub), he felt triumphant. Briefly. ''So we get up there with our Ivy League improvisational panel and we very politely ask if anyone has questions,'' recalls the perpetually bemused Scarpelli, now 25. For an interminable moment, they waited in that deathly silence only stand-up comics and actors come to know. Finally, a man with a thick Scottish brogue piped up with a question:

''Why are ya nae funny?''

The memory withered Scarpelli all over again during a recent break from rehearsing It Came from Beneath the Kilt!!! the schlocky disco-era horror show he will direct at the ninth annual San Francisco Fringe Festival, where Bay Area theater misfits rule.

Scarpelli and his collaborators, 33-year-old Peter Budinger[sic] and 27-year-old Kevin Kelleher [sic], were sitting elbow-to-elbow, fielding questions and gushing boyish enthusiasm for the meeting of gore and camp that is Kilt!!! their unabashed homage to cheesy horror flicks.

It was Kelleher, who'd grown up in England, who first turned his colleagues on to the inspiration for Kilt!!! -- a creepy classic film from 1972 called Tales from the Crypt starring Ralph Richardson, Peter Cushing and Joan Collins.

''This stuff used to scare me,'' Kelleher recalled in his clipped English accent. ''You know, watching Santa Claus kill Joan Collins can be frightening to a child.''

Spooky perversity suffuses Kilt!!! as it chronicles six people meeting their fates in the fetid keep of a Scottish castle. Tongues are pulled out, creatures crawl from beneath kilts and doom reigns supreme in this tongue-in-cheek tale of terror.

If it all sounds way over the top, rest assured that's just what Scarpelli and his comrades had in mind. Subtlety often runs for its life during the Fringe Festival, a 10-day marathon of in-your-face performance. Outrageousness is the operative word.

''This is a chance to bring experimental theater companies into the spotlight,'' says festival co-founder Christina Augello, who runs the eclectic lineup from her office at the Exit Theater on Eddy Street.

For fledgling companies, the Fringe is a place to find an audience and make a name. Scarpelli and Budinger, for instance, are founding members of Dr. Emil's Theatre Tremendo, a tiny troupe named after a 19th-century snake oil salesman. Without the support of the festival (which includes theater rental, marketing and some technical support), they would never have had the means to raise the curtain on Kilt!!!

''We could never afford to rent a theater in San Francisco these days,'' Budinger says.

But what they lack in money, they more than make up for in moxie and commitment. Scarpelli, Budinger and Kelleher all hold down day jobs to support their theater habit (Budinger managing an office, Keller working as a carpenter and Scarpelli putting his loquacity to use as a receptionist. ''If you can split your head in two,'' says Scarpelli, ''you can get a lot done while you're babbling at people on the phone.'')

The only downside to the Fringe is that each act is slotted for only one hour. That short a running time leaves little margin for error.

But even that has an upside. ''It makes you stay on top of it and never let it flag,'' says Scarpelli. ''You get to see if your show stands on its own feet.''

Kelleher also notes that having no intermission can be an advantage in a short-attention-span world: ''With an hourlong show, people don't have the chance to get up and leave without making a ruckus.''

Indeed, the MTV generation, weaned on clicking past anything boring, can feel right at home at the Fringe, which features 52 shows and five stages. This year's lineup runs the gamut from bawdy (My Penis... In and Out of Trouble) and brazen (The Male Diva) to silly (The Kiwi Stand Up Experience) and existential (The Myth of Sisyphus.)

While the best-known fringe festival is still the one in Edinburgh, similar events occur in cities from New York to Houston. The San Francisco Fringe, at 9 years of age, is among the most venerable.

Performers are chosen not by a committee of judges but by a lottery. Some observers claim that picking shows at random dilutes the artistic integrity of the festival. Last year, at least one local theater critic passed on reviewing the Fringe, citing the lack of quality control.

Augello stands her ground, rejecting the notion that shows should be screened before hitting the stage. (She does close the festival with a revue of the best of the fest.)

''The unjuried aspect of the festival is what I love,'' she says. ''I like the excitement and the danger and the risk of not knowing what I'm going to see. There's enough elitism in the arts as it is.''

Scarpelli notes that any theater festival is bound to have its hits and its bombs. ''I was at the Edinburgh Fringe and there was a lot of crap there too,'' he says. ''It's always a toss-up. Broadway is a toss-up.''

He suspects that the adventure of it all is precisely what draws youngish theatergoers to the festival. ''There's not a lot of blue hair at the Fringe,'' says Scarpelli, whose skull is as shiny as his repartee. ''Not that I'm against blue hair. In fact, I'll take any kind of hair, blue, crimped, whatever!''

There's no denying that the Fringe has pushed the taste envelope in years past. Butt Pirates of the Caribbean, for example, may not have been everyone's cup of cutting-edge tea.

Over the years, however, several shows, such as Byron Yee's Paper Son, have leaped from the Fringe to the mainstream. Certainly, a retro-chic slasher tribute like Kilt!!!' seems a natural magnet for the hipster crowd that so many theater companies yearn to reach.

Then again, no matter how Kilt!!! fares, it's bound to beat Scarpelli's experience in Edinburgh.

After the improv act folded, he took to the streets and tried his hand at singing for spare change. Reviews (from passersby) were mixed. ''The only song I know is 'The Rose,' [sic]'' admits the duly shamefaced Scarpelli. ''So I sang it. I only made one pound. The guy who gave it to me said something I didn't understand. It was either 'You have a nice voice' or 'Please stop singing that song!' ''

© 2000- San Jose Mercury News

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