John Paul Karliak

Tell my mother you love her, she’ll get a little misty and—depending on how well she knows you—say “thank you” or “I love you, too.”  Tell her “why” you love her, she’ll start to fidget and—again, depending—say you are “being kind” or are “full of it.”  She (like most people who are really amazing) doesn’t like hearing how amazing she is, probably because she doesn’t believe that it’s true.

Yes, I’m biased, no question, but it’s still a fact — she’s awesome.  Aside from being a doting Catholic housewife from Scranton, PA, my mom is a one-woman 5-star nursing home, at one time or another caring for all my grandparents without complaint for close to 20 years.  She also adopted and cared for me, which is a feat in and of itself, as I’m a gay, half-Italian only child with a penchant for the dramatic arts.  Not that she didn’t have the help of my dad.  But my mom is to Donna Reed as my dad is to Jackie Gleason.  So, yeah, put all that together, and I think that makes her indisputably amazing.

Having a mom who is incredible but doesn’t believe it, I’ve long felt it’s my job to prove it to her (this stems from an adopted boy’s need to give/get boatloads of affection).  And the only way I see fit to do it is with an autobiographical one-man musical comedy (this stems from the aforementioned gay/half-Italian/dramatic thing).  But I didn’t have any substantial material other than snippets of stories that exist under the heading “I love my mom.”  Without a real plot, I just let the idea incubate.

John Paul Karliak

Cut to a few years later, and for the very first time (more or less), I’m meeting my birth mother –  a fashion columnist with a wicked sense of humor who works the sidewalk like a runway.  Her American accent is lightly seasoned with British thanks to her husband, a pop star from the UK (sorry, I can’t say who).  She does yoga, goes to rock concerts and talks of globetrotting to random events which can all be described as “beyond.”  My birth mother is Madonna (so to speak).  And because Sesame Street taught me the wonder of rhyming, my show now has a title: Donna/Madonna.

All I need is a real story to bring it all together, and thank God, life takes a roller coaster’s worth of unexpected turns, and there you have it — plot.  The project snowballs.  I develop the concept with solo genius Molly Prather (F*ck, Marry, Kill), fine tune it with master of hilarity Matthew Craig (writer for SNL) and stage it with the classical wunderkind Tiger Reel (artistic director of Action! Theatre Company).  My dear friends Billy Thompson and Jamaal Crowley (aka DJ ChocliXxX) add musical numbers and mash-ups to the mix, and finally… I have a show worth Mom’s amazingness.

Cut to a seven-month-long montage:  Donna/Madonna is workshopped at Celebration Theatre, wins an award in New York and, most important, is seen by both of my mothers.  Mom’s reaction is tearful and thankful, though she resists my persistent “What about this part?  What did you think of that?  Did this part surprise you?”  She loves it and that’s enough.  My birth mother does as well.

John Paul Karliak

Relieved and exhausted, I feel I’m done.  But I’ve done the show only twice!  When the primary purpose of your play is to be a love letter to both of your mothers, and then they see it…then what?  Thankfully, I have good audiences.  At least one person after every show approaches me to tell an adoption story.  They all start with “My mother was…,” “My brother was…,” “I was…,” “We just did…”  Some joyful, some filled with pain, all beautiful.  And each one serves as a reminder of how lucky I am.  Not only do I have an amazing mom, but I also have a healthy, happy relationship with my birth mother.  I recognize in each of these stories that there are many who are not as lucky as I’ve been.  Suddenly, Donna/Madonna has a new mission.

Thanks to the recommendation of a dear friend (the proud father of two adopted children), I get in contact with Kinship Center.  A nonprofit agency with locations throughout Central and Southern California, its  sole mission is to put and keep families together.  What most impresses me about Kinship is how comprehensive its services are, from providing mental health care and family counseling to supporting extended family members who need to fill the role of parents.

John Paul Karliak

It reminds me of St. Joseph’s Center, the place back in Scranton that I was adopted from.  And that strikes a chord.  So when Donna/Madonna makes its official LA debut this July, the proceeds will benefit Kinship Center.  Not that it’ll amount to many millions (or even many thousands) of dollars.  But the point is bringing attention to this organization and others like it.  I feel that by promoting the family care that they offer, I’m telling my mom “I love you” in a whole new way — one that doesn’t involve her squirming in a seat as I rattle off her quirks to the general public.  And maybe, in recognizing the amazing work of Kinship, she’ll see a little amazing in herself.

**All production photography by Aaron Bendele. Head shot by Dennis Kwan.

Donna/Madonna, presented by Rizzo 39 Productions, opens July 6; Tues-Wed, 8 pm; through August 10 (additional show Mon, August 1, 8 pm). Tickets: $20. Lounge Theatre, 6201 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; 323-960-4420 or www.plays411.com/donnamadonna.

John Paul Karliak is an actor/writer/self-confessed mama’s boy.  He improvises, does voice-over and has written sketch, short films and five one-act plays produced throughout the country.  His solo show Donna/Madonna was named “Best One Man Show” at the 2010 United Solo Theatre Festival in New York.