During Joan Braderman's No More Nice Girls, four women ponder the early seventies, heyday of the Women's Movement, now replete with deflated expectations and abandoned manifestos. In this acidic work, political texts and photographs backlight scripted conversations between a hard-edged lesbian grumbling about the co-optation of feminist values, a politically engaged performance artist who boasts of her sexual allure, a college instructor now uncomfortably resigned to motherhood and a feminist poet locked lightly into failure. For Braderman's iconic women, the past is a nostalgic artifact measuring the loss of youth and optimism. Aside from reminiscence, these "aging feminists from hell" no longer experience the hope that once drove them forward. Rather they feel the exhaustion of an age that betrayed their youthful aspirations. In Cecilia Dougherty's Grapefruit, based obliquely on Yoko Ono's book, often ludicrous moments from John and Yoko's charmed history are reconstructed. An all-female cast (aside from one male go-go dancer) makes this a gentle mockery lingering on the banal squabbles of the Fab Four and John and Yoko's deliberate denuding of their private lives. The ersatz philosophy comically espoused in Grapefruit casts doubt on the past's ability to adequately inform the present. For Dougherty, this glance backwards doesn't seek reassurance or queasy remembrance. It's an experiment in crippled nostalgia. Steve Seid