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Among the whole Academy Awards hullabaloo, there were a handful of very moving moments. I just want to write about one, even though it pertains to a movie I haven’t even seen. Major kudos to Dustin Lance Black for winning an Oscar for the screenplay of Milk — and also kudos for having the guts once upon a time to move on with his life, to move on from Mormonism to something that worked for him.

From his acceptance speech: “When I was 13 years old, my beautiful mother and my father moved me from a conservative Mormon home in San Antonio, Texas, to California, and I heard the story of Harvey Milk. And it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life. It gave me the hope that one day I could live my life openly as who I am and that maybe even I could fall in love and one day get married.”

Later, Sean Penn spoke of the hateful picketers outside the Oscars whose grandchildren will be ashamed of them. While I suppose this is largely true of anybody who would spend time picketing today, a lot of the people I know who are opposed to gay marriage oppose it not out of hate, but out of fear and a misguided sense of duty to God. An important distinction that their grandchildren will cling to.

On Saturday night I attended Missionary Position by Steven Fales at the Celebration Theater. It’s a small theater, maybe 60 seats, and it was mostly full. There were 3 women there. I attended with an old friend and his partner. It wasn’t that long ago (May 2007) that I saw Confessions of a Mormon Boy, Mr. Fales’s other production, in Boston with my friend Amy who describes herself as a “recovering Mormon.” The demographics there were skewed, too, but less so. Now, I can recall only once in my life having seen a show with notably different audience demographics that was a strong show, period: Ain’t Misbehavin’ at the Huntington in Boston. Such shows are often strong for that demographic only. Not that your typical theater-going audience owns artistic excellence, not that seeing different audiences in theaters isn’t something I relish, it’s just that when everybody’s gay or black or this or that, and they love the show but said show doesn’t take off and receive general acclaim … well, that’s all I’m saying.

Anyway, the short review of Missionary Position is this: Confessions was better.

Mr. Fales has interesting comments to make if you’re gay or Mormon or ex-Mormon or intellectually curious about such matters. In context, it’s quite lovely to hear about the phone call he had with his father wherein his dad told him he didn’t have to go on his mission. All the straight-forward earnest moments, and most of the coyly presented ones, are quite great, and are the reason I attended. But he’s also a little too in love with himself, his flights of fancy, and his body. The physical struck me as gratuitous in both shows. Furthermore, he’s not quite strong enough of an actor for his own work. Along those lines, some lines and transitions were a little bumpy — but that’s not a big deal and not really what I mean when I criticize his acting, and I wouldn’t have mentioned it had it been opening weekend.

But here’s the big difference between the two shows. His first show would be eye-opening and mind-opening to lots of Mormons. Maybe he crossed a line to the conservative ones with the grisly details about his gay-prostitute exploits, but I still say those conservative ones are the ones who most needed to see it. Missionary Position, on the other hand, would offend pretty much every Mormon I know. Worse, it did so in an exploitative fashion that was artistically weak. Even the guy who had no Mormon history in our group agreed it was exploitative. Mr. Fales is pissed about Prop 8, and rightly so. But this artistic outlet isn’t helping. He puts on the Mormon temple clothes and takes off his other clothes. It’s shocking but quickly becomes more about his prancing around in a way where you wonder if you’ll catch of glimpse of this former member’s member. (You don’t.) Regarding Prop 8, this tacked-on part of the show is simply petty revenge, doing the one thing Mormons don’t want you to do.

Though I’ve changed a lot, I would still hate for Mormons to go to this show not knowing about its contents. To be fair, he “warns” such people up front that this show might not be for them by (a) the title and (b) undue swearing. The big swears. Oooh. How naughty. But he’s not very good at swearing. (On this account I empathize, and further note that many actors who grew up swearing don’t cuss well on stage.) Late in his show, he points out that the temple ceremony allows people to back out at a point where no one really would. Similarly, those sitting there, $25 ticket in hand, probably aren’t going to leave when he screams the word f*ck repeatedly in the first minute, but some might if they knew that at the end — where it makes no sense in the story line! — he will put on all the temple clothing. When I read The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie, I searched high and low for anything that might merit the rage behind the fatwa ordering his death. I didn’t find it. Those unfamiliar with Mormonism will probably feel the same way, so I provide this notice mostly for those with Mormon history.

Okay. This review is half-baked. At a minimum, it needs a better ending. Mr. Fales found a good ending for his show, imagining a moment where he takes his children to Portugal, his field of service as a Mormon missionary, and tells them this is where he “grew up.” While this review needs a good ending, too, I gots things to do today! I’ll check in with an update later.