A DARKER LOOK AT THE
GANG WE GREW UP WITH

Dog Sees God, Bert V. Royal’s 2004 reimagining of the Peanuts universe, wonders what might happen if those familiar childhood figures stumbled into late high school. The answer is a swirl of drugs, profanity, identity crises, and more than a little homophobia. Though the script avoids Charles Schulz’s character names, the parallels are unmistakable — sometimes amusing, sometimes cutting, and sometimes deeply sad.

In The Bent’s production directed by Larry LaFond, we first meet CB, played by Henry McLaughlin, who is mourning the loss of his pet beagle. The dog, we’re told, contracted rabies and killed a small canary — a grim twist on a friendship we all recognize. McLaughlin delivers this with a deadpan sincerity that becomes the emotional barometer of the production. It’s consistent with the “born loser” archetype without slipping into parody; he never mutters “Good grief,” yet the echo is unmistakable.

As the story unfolds, CB’s circle appears. Miguel Olivas plays Beethoven, the shy, gifted outcast who hides in the music room playing Chopin at lunchtime. Chris Carranza’s Matt — once Pig Pen — is now a muscular storm of bravado and prejudice. Steffon Martindale is Van, who has apparently smoked everything he can get his hands on, including the blanket he once dragged everywhere. Each actor avoids caricature and brings dimension to what could easily be cartoonish roles.

CB’s Sister, portrayed by Joyanne Tracy, pinballs through identities with relentless commitment — Wiccan, butterfly, punk, pirate. Tracy is a hoot, and her unrequited affection for Beethoven adds an unexpectedly sweet pang. Van’s Sister, played by Cecilia Orosco, appears only momentarily; the role is handled well, though it contributes little to the plot.

The casting coup belongs to Terry Ray as Tricia and Jason Ayestas as Marcy — the Peppermint Patty and Marcie analogues. Here they’re delusional, co-dependent party girls holding court at their cafeteria table. Ray and Ayestas, both in-demand actors around the Valley, don’t aim for drag-broad spectacle. Instead, they craft characters who are heightened, hilarious, and sharp as broken glass. Their scenes crackle with the kind of absurdity the script craves.

Early in the play, I found myself wondering why a queer theatre company would choose this script, given how much of the first half leans into cruelty and confusion. But about 45 minutes in, a pivotal kiss reframes the narrative entirely. The remaining 75 minutes shift into a story that is painful, affecting, and unquestionably worth telling.

If the production falters, it’s in the structural challenge inherited from the script. Royal’s vignette style — echoing the comic-strip motif — results in numerous brief scenes separated by blackouts and full set changes. The momentum repeatedly stalls. A unit set might have helped sustain emotional continuity across backyards, cafeterias, music rooms, and the many liminal spaces of adolescence. Still, as I’ve come to expect from The Bent, the performers and technical collaborators rise to the challenge and deliver thoughtful, sharply etched work.

Dog Sees God may begin as a dark joke about familiar characters growing up, but it ultimately becomes a meditation on loss, cruelty, courage, and the fragile ways we reach for each other when the world turns hostile. The shadows are real, but so is the ache — and the production honors both.

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photos by Kayla Gordon

Dog Sees God
The Bent Theatre
in association with The Palm Springs Cultural Center
Camelot Theatres, 2300 East Baristo Road in Palm Springs
Thurs-Sat at 7; Sun at 2
ends on December 21, 2024
for tickets, visit The Bent or Eventbrite

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