Will Clark, Stephen Wallem, Amanda Huxtable. Photo by Anne Hudson |
So you’re a joke-meister who wrote for some of the best
comedy shows on television only to wash up on the shores of middle-age and find
yourself no longer relevant – ergo: unemployed. You go East to write serious
drama for the theater, but you’re no O’Neill
or Miller, so back you go to Hollywood , hat in
hand, in a desperate attempt to pitch a sitcom based on the pope’s rapscallion
brother (It’ll be a laugh-riot!).
In the midst of your pitch there’s
an earthquake and a goodly portion of the building falls on you. What happens
next? Well, what happens next is I Hate
Musicals: The Musical, which is receiving its world premiere at the
Ivoryton Playhouse. The show is an irreverent satire that takes on Hollywood executives, talent agents, inane TV shows and
Broadway musicals while giving a few pokes in the eyes to such icons as Jesus,
the Blessed Virgin Mary and Sigmund Freud.
Who would come up with such a
premise? Well, the show is written by Mike Reiss, who has been writing for The Simpsons for almost three decades,
and if you know anything about this ground-breaking animated show, you know
that nothing is sacred. Thus, in I Hate Musicals,
the satire is broad, the humor often hits below the belt and the show’s
musicality is essentially derivative – original music is credited to Walter
Murphy but there aren’t many tunes that won’t elicit a: “Wait a minute, isn’t
that melody from…?”
Under the direction of James
Valletti, the six actors, almost all of whom play multiple roles, cavort and
camp it up, much to the delight of the opening night audience, many of whom
might associate the goings on with Marx Brothers’ films as much as with the
antics of Homer, Marge, Bart and Lisa. As for the plot, well, after the seismic
disruption there isn’t much that is logically connected, for what we are seeing
is a coma-induced phantasmagoria of characters that rise and fall (often to
taunt, tease and/or terrorize) in the mind of the comedy writer. As Dorothy, in
the Wizard of Oz, entered a world of
magical make-believe after the tornado, so Alvin (Stephen Wallem) enters the
world of his somewhat warped mind after the earthquake, complete with a pair of
ruby slippers and a dead witch, or is that bitch?
There are some slow moments in this
one-act romp when Reiss gets “serious,” or beats the dead horse about how
Hollywood turns brilliant writing into crap, but for most of the evening it’s
just plain silliness. To get a feel for where Alvin ’s mind wanders while in coma-mode we
have the multi-talented Amanda Huxtable first playing a bitchy TV executive
wearing a nifty pair of red shoes (you just know she’s doomed). After the fall
of the building, she reappears as Brie, Alvin’s ex-wife, a somewhat ditzy
blonde a la Miss Adelaide in Guys and
Dolls and then, near the end of the show, when Alvin is being judged as to
whether he’s worthy of entering heaven (consumption of a Big Mac hamburger is
key to the decision – don’t ask), she reappears as the Blessed Virgin Mary,
which she plays with a Bronx accent, and then, to top it off, she morphs into
Alvin’s mother (Freudian symbolism anyone?).
The rest of the cast, accompanied
by Michael Morris working the electronic keyboard, is equally appealing and
eagerly willing to sell the lunacy Reiss has given them to work with. Sam Given
first appears as a security guard but soon shows his true talent as Jerome, who
is so GAY (here Reiss, in typical Simpsons
fashion, takes a stereotype and blows it up in your face), and then reappears
as a hyperactive Sigmund Freud. Not to be outdone, Ryan Knowles enters as
Alvin’s purported father, a pompous English Lit professor who scorns his son’s
profession, only to work a quick costume change (of which there are many) and
become Natasmi (Who? Not sure? Well, spell it backwards and all will become
clear). Will Clark plays Alvin ’s
actual dad, a real mensch, as well as Jesus (also a real mensch) – it’s with
these two characters that Reiss works in some Borscht Belt Jewish jokes.
Finally, there’s the ever-reliable R. Bruce Connelly who plays Lee, Alvin ’s agent who is currently in Florida
with his grandchildren (He’d rather be in LA in an earthquake) but maintains
contact with Alvin via phone (“So, how did the
meeting go?”) and is finally asked to negotiate with the BVM over Alvin ’s eternal
destination.
Does most of the evening make any
sense? Well, no and yes. If you’re looking for standard dramatic development
you’ll be sorely disappointed, but that’s not really the point, because Alvin ’s delirium is the
frame that allows all of these somewhat bizarre characters to enter and do
their “thing.” It’s Saturday Night Live
on steroids, a theatrical tradition that harkens back to Olsen and Johnson’s Hellzapoppin’. You get the set-up, then
the earthquake, and then comedic chaos. It has the feel of something Beckett might
have written if he had had a sense of humor.
I
Hate Musicals: The Musical runs through October 15. For tickets or more
information call 860-767-7318 or go to www.ivorytonplayhouse.org.