Kafka Played For Laughs

The Understudy -- Westport Country Playhouse -- Through September 1

Brett Dalton, Andrea Syglowski and Eric Bryant. Photos by Carol Rosegg

When we see a play or a musical, we seldom are aware of what has gone on behind the scenes before the curtain rises on opening night. Most theatergoers are not privy to the various rehearsals, including the laborious and time consuming tech rehearsal (when, among other things, the sound and lighting cues are worked out) that brings the production to life (or doesn’t, as the case may be). Well, if you’d like a peek at these goings-on, get yourself over to the Westport Country Playhouse where Theresa Rebeck’s often hilarious “The Understudy” is currently being offered. As directed by David Kennedy, the play is basically a rehearsal where anything that possibly can go wrong does – theatrically and emotionally – and makes for an enjoyable two hours (no intermission) that may drag a bit at moments (possibly just a bit too much discussion of the Kafka mind-set), but has enough high points to easily get you through the evening.

The opening scene may be a bit confusing for some in the audience, for Rebeck immediately breaks the fourth wall by having Harry (Eric Bryant) enter, fire a gun and stroll down the aisle house right. The fourth wall? Well, when you look at a stage (in most productions), you have stage left, right and up-stage. Down-stage is usually defined by where the stage’s apron ends, and the actors “act” as if there is a fourth wall erected there that is, of course, not there at all, else the audience could not see what’s going on.

 

Harry ascends the stage in front of the curtain (this is called a scene-in-one, which normally allows for set changes). He proceeds with a monologue that deals with an actor’s frustrations, including gripes about Hollywood blockbuster movies that require a minimum amount of acting talent and a maximum number of explosions and other special effects. It’s only when Jake (Brett Dalton) appears, an actor in the play being rehearsed, that it becomes apparent that Harry has been venting to an empty theater. Ah, so the fourth wall really hasn’t been broken…the theater itself is the stage.

Jake challenges Harry’s presence – he’s apparently not supposed to be in the theater. Harry runs off, the curtain rises and Roxanne (Andrea Syglowski), the stage manager, appears to begin running the rehearsal. But Harry is supposed to be there – he’s Jake’s understudy, and the rehearsal has been called to run him through his lines and the play’s blocking. There’s one more character, “Laura,” who’s never seen or heard from, but “Laura” is responsible for many of the laughs the show delivers, for she is in charge of running the sound (compliments of Fitz Patton) and light boards, but apparently she is more than one toke over the line (or often mysteriously absent), so over the course of the evening, sets (deftly designed Andrew Boyce) roll in and out at inopportune moments, lights come up or go down with a mind of their own (at one point the theater is plunged into darkness, forcing the actors to use flashlights), and sound cues either arrive too early or too late, much to Roxanne’s frustration. Another unseen character is “Bruce,” the star of the show who makes mega-millions starring in the blockbusters Harry disdains. It doesn’t take much of a stretch to assume that Rebeck is alluding to Bruce Willis.

 

The play being rehearsed? Well, it’s never named, but it’s a recently discovered drama by none other than Franz Kafka, which allows Rebeck to offer up a lot of allusions for those familiar with Kafka’s work, from a castle and a trial with no apparent crime to, yes, of course, a bug. It also allows Jake, whose main claim to fame is the action films he has starred in (appropriately, Dalton will be familiar to many as Agent Grant Ward in the ABC series “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”), to prove that he’s not as shallow as Harry thinks he is (a running joke is a line of dialogue – “Get in the truck!” – from Jake’s last film that Harry taunts Jake with). However, some of the play’s slower moments have Jake pontificating at length about “meaning” and existentialism, much to Harry’s confusion.

These are actors rehearsing a play, but they are also people with outside lives, and this fills out what otherwise might have been a simple behind-the-scenes story about boarding a play. Jake feigns unconcern, but he is eager to learn if he’s landed a role in an upcoming film, so he’s often on the phone with his agent. Dalton’s delivery of his side of these conversations is excellent, no more so than when his character gets the final call, which he takes off stage, standing in the semi-dark house right. It’s a subtle yet deft piece of acting.

As for Harry and Roxanne, they have a history. In fact, Harry disappeared two weeks before they were to be married, which has left Roxanne emotionally scarred, a scarring that translates to controlled anger that finally bubbles over. This allows Roxanne to deliver a pain-filled monologue late in the show that is, for the audience, cathartic, for those watching have been waiting for Roxanne to let it all hang out and Syglowski delivers.

The play is filled with a lot of theatrical “in” jokes that many audience members got but were lost on others. However, what’s not lost is the controlled chaos that often occurs during a tech rehearsal as well as the two different acting styles evinced by Harry and Jake. Jake just wants to deliver his lines, but much to Jake’s and Roxanne’s growing frustration, Harry is constantly breaking character to ask for “motivation” or to question the logic of a scene or piece of blocking. It’s another running joke, often quite humorous, no more so than, again late in the show, Harry, in character, is dealing with life and death issues then abruptly stops to once again ask about motivation. It was unexpected, and after a beat or two, the audience erupted with laughter.

The actual rehearsals for “The Understudy” must have been very interesting, for there are so many scripted mishaps and intricate lighting (kudos to Matthew Richards) and sound cues and scene changes that all seem wrong and mistakes but are integral to the play that it must have taken a while for the actors to adjust and become comfortable with the mayhem. After all, in a “normal” play when you deliver a line about a violent storm descending and it doesn’t appear, well, you feel naked on the stage; when you’re working with one set and it suddenly slides off stage for no apparent reason you are a bit nonplussed.

Putting aside the “slow” moments, which, thankfully are few and far between, “The Understudy” is a delightful comedy that often borders on farce, with just a touch of slapstick, and the final scene, choreographed by Noah Racey, which has Harry and Jake doing a silly dance, is delightful. It captures, visually, the essential wackiness inherent in the play, a Chaplinesque answer to the angst, anxiety and darkness that was Kafka’s stock in trade. Much praise to director Kennedy for grasping all of the comedic opportunities in the play and coaching his cast to deliver them with style, grace and a great sense of timing.

“The Understudy” runs through September 1. For tickets or more information call 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org

A "Singular Sensation"

A Chorus Line -- Ivoryton Playhouse -- Through September 2

Obviously, casting is important for any show – cast the wrong actor in a role and it can let the air out of one of the show’s tires. However, there are some shows that have become so iconic, and the characters so imbedded in the public’s mind, that casting it correctly is almost a death-defying, high-wire act (to switch metaphors) – one false move and the show plummets. Of course, you can cast against type, but that often draws more attention to the casting choice than to the production itself. Correct casting is never more important than when deciding to board “A Chorus Line,” the backstage show-biz musical that opened on Broadway in 1975 and is currently on the stage at the Ivoryton Playhouse. I am happy to report that Jacqueline Hubbard, the Playhouse’s executive/artistic director, and Todd L. Underwood, the show’s director, along with Michael Morris, musical director, walked the tightrope with nary a false step, for the cast, across the board, is outstanding, and the show is one, whether you’ve seen other productions or not, that should not be missed.

The reason why casting is so critical for this musical, with music by Marvin Hamlisch, lyrics by Edward Kleband and a book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, is that although it’s essentially an ensemble cast the show consists of a series of vignettes, some delivered via song and others via monologues, that literally puts the spotlight on individual actors. As they step forward to tell their characters’ stories, each has the opportunity to create a unique moment, and by and large they all succeed.

The show’s gestation involved several workshop sessions with Broadway dancers, called “gypsies” because they have no permanent “home” -- they travel from show to show wherever the work takes them. Michael Bennet, the show’s original choreographer, sat in on these sessions and, although there is contention about exactly who came up with the idea, Bennet realized that what the dancers were telling him, their stories, was grist for the theatrical mill. Hence, “A Chorus Line” was born.

The show, save for the finale, is about the arduous, sometimes degrading, always stressful audition process, and opens on a bare stage lit primarily by a “ghost” light, a single light on a pole that is kept lit in most theaters, ostensibly to allow people to see where they’re going when the stage in unlit but, if you buy into theater lore and superstition, is really to keep theatrical ghosts at bay. It’s a bare-bones scenic design (compliments of Martin Scott Marchitto), save for mirrors that often line a rehearsal studio (actually they look like they’re made of mylar and make the dancers look like they’re dancing in a fun-house, but whatever) and a “rain” curtain in the final scene; the lack of scenery and props emphasizes that it’s all on the actors to provide the gloss, glitter and atmosphere.

In the musical, the show being cast requires four male and four female dancers, but three times as many dancers are auditioning, so there’s the inevitable winnowing process. The show’s director, Zach (Edward Stanley), is overseeing the process with the assistance of his choreographer, Larry (Max Weinstein), and after putting the dancers through an initial routine and making some cuts, Zach has those remaining literally toe the line and then requests that they speak about themselves, which sets up most of the production, for they all step forward, either individually or in groups, to tell their stories.

I’ve seen this show multiple times – know the characters, know their stories – so there was a possibility that my overall reaction might be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Such was not the case. The stories, whether told via song or monologue, are still compelling and delivered with such conviction that one is compelled to attend and respond. My one somewhat negative reaction, and this is not the fault of this production, is the length of the opening sequence, which has the full company running through several dance routines, while occasionally breaking out with the “I Hope I Get It” song, punctuated by “I Really Need This Job” – it just seems to run on a bit too long. Since we have yet to be introduced to the individual characters, it seems, at moments, a simple flurry of dancing bodies.

However, once the cuts are made and Zach makes his request for self-revelation, the show begins to soar and never flags. As mentioned, this is an ensemble piece, but there are standouts. The first of them is Natalie Madison as Diana Morales. Her story involves her experience in a high school acting class in which she is constantly belittled. This is rendered via “Nothing,” and her haunting voice carries with it the sense of the demeaning nature of her experience. You can’t help but edge a bit forward in your seat as her story unfolds until it gets to the poignant final moment when she feels “nothing” upon hearing that her former teacher had passed away. Madison also gets to sing one of the show’s signature songs, “What I Did For Love,” which she does in such a heartfelt manner it’s like you’re hearing this song for the first time.

Another first among equals is Alexa Racioippi as Val, who delivers the best “tits and ass” sequence (“Dance: Ten: Looks: Three”) I’ve ever seen. She flaunts what the plastic surgeon has given her without shame – it’s sassy and stylish and basically demands that the audience acknowledge the essence of what the song is about. At one point Val turns to the audience and says, “You’re looking at my tits, aren’t you?” (this after a little hop-hop turn that makes her breasts jiggle and bounce). Yes, we are. Gotcha!

I could go on: there’s the opening story delivered by Mike (Dakota Hoar), the “I Can Do That” song, that brings to mind the “Billy Eliot” story. Then there’s the entire Montage sequence, which includes the touching “At the Ballet” number featuring Bebe (Kayla Starr Bryan), Maggie (Liv Kurtz) and Sheila (Lili Thomas), which offers a view of dancing school as a retreat for these three young women from the stark and somewhat painful realities of their home lives. The number also emphasizes how Marcus Abbot’s lighting design is so integral to this production. There have been times in the past when the Ivoryton lighting, at least in early days of a show, has been a bit shaky (especially with follow spots), but in “Chorus Line” it is flawless – it draws the audience’s attention to what they should be looking at without drawing attention to itself.

As for stark and painful realities, nothing tops the story Paul (Joey Lucherini) tells late in the second act. Reluctant to speak throughout most of the audition, he finally unburdens himself, relating how he came out of the closet and ended up in a drag show, only to have his parents confront him, when he is in full costume, back stage. Although the telling could have been sped up a bit, in the end it’s a story that can’t help but make the emotions twitch just a bit.

All of this leads to the final number, “One,” and although it’s been expected (and anticipated) by all who are familiar with the show, it still delivers a certain amount of elation and triumph for, unlike in the opening sequence, the audience now knows who these dancers are, their trials and tribulations, and although the show they have been cast in will inevitably close and they will move on (reality, too, for the actors up on the stage), for this one, brief, shining moment they have achieved success.

Ivoryton’s second summer musical is a crowd-pleasing winner. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve seen the show before (especially if you’re only familiar with the agonizingly flawed, over-produced film version) or are new to the world of the “gypsies.” This is the type of show where you just might resent there being an intermission because you want to get back to your seat and see and hear more, if only because there’s so much talent up there on the stage. You might well ask yourself, “Am I in Ivoryton or on Broadway?”

“A Chorus Line” runs through September 2. For tickets or more information call 860-767-7318 or go to www.ivorytonplayhouse.org.

An Aging "Barefoot"

Barefoot in the Park -- Sharon Playhouse -- Through August 12

If you’ve been around for 55 years you’re bound to look and sound a bit different than when you first saw the light of day. Once you were cute and cuddly but now, well, it all depends. Such is the case with Neil Simon’s “Barefoot in the Park,” the current production at the Sharon Playhouse. On Broadway, it ran for 1,530 performances and was Simon’s biggest hit, and it didn’t hurt that a young Robert Redford played one of the leads. The Sharon production, directed by Clayton Phillips, is professional and, at moments, quite engaging, but the play itself, despite the outstanding cast, is no longer cute and cuddly. There’s some joint creaking and wrinkles in the show and what might have drawn uproarious laughter five-plus decades ago now often elicits little more than a wan smile.

The premise is sitcom simple: a young couple, Corrie (Rebecca Tucker) and Paul (Craig Bryant Belwood) has just moved into a Manhattan apartment. The only problem is, it’s five (or six, if you count the stoop) flights up, a fact that provides one of the play’s running jokes: to climb the stairs is exhausting -- funny the first time it’s used as the telephone man (John Champion) staggers in, but it does become a bit old. Corrie is a free spirit, or at least as free a spirit as Simon could conceive of in the early 60s, while Paul, a lawyer, is buttoned-down. And…well…the play is about this young couple, over the course of several days, learning to adjust to each other’s personalities and quirks as they are visited by Corrie’s mother, Mrs. Banks (Susan Cella) and a flamboyant neighbor, Victor Velasco (Rex Smith).

The problem, not with the production but with the aging play, is that a lot has transpired in the past five or so decades and the problems, such as they are, that this young couple face seem, viewed with eyes that have seen everything from the sexual revolution to #MeToo, somewhat superficial.

That being said, there’s no faulting the cast, which does everything it can to bring life to this old comedic war horse. First there’s Tucker, who doesn’t stop moving throughout the entire evening – she’s a visual definition of effervescence. She prances, she pouts, she, at moments, plays the sex kitten and does a great job when the script calls for Corrie to be just a bit tipsy. Playing against her, Belwood is sufficiently upright and handles his character’s befuddlement at some of the goings-on with nuance and understatement. The two work well together, no more so than in the extended argument scene, when the rational gives way to the irrational. If there’s any part of Simon’s play that is timeless it is this, for I would suggest that the rise, crescendo and falling off of a couple’s argument style, complete with door-slamming, hasn’t changed over the decades, and Tucker and Belwood get it just right. It’s the high point of the evening.

Then there’s Cella as Mrs. Rose, a role that has become somewhat stereotypical, that of the intrusive mother-in-law (think Endora in “Bewitched”). However, Cella doesn’t settle for the stereotype, but creates a fully-fleshed lady of a certain age with style, flair and a great sense of timing. Her best moments are with Smith as the aged lothario Velasco. Her she uses controlled body language to convey her character’s hesitancy about associating with this man. Finally, Smith must tackle an essentially one-dimensional role, one that might tempt an actor to “ham it up.” Smith refrains from doing this, occasionally allowing the audience to see his character’s insecurity behind the façade of bravado.

Most of the play’s first act is sustained by the running joke and what seems like an extended amount of exposition not only to establish the characters but to drive home the situation. In essence, beyond the stair-climbing, not much really happens, a point that was reinforced by the audience’s reaction when the lights came up for the intermission – no one moved. More was expected. In fact, the ushers had to announce that it was, in fact, an intermission.

There have been tectonic societal changes since Simon’s play premiered in 1963, and those changes can’t help but affect the audience’s response to the play. Back then there may well have been unbridled, continuous laughter but the Playhouse audience was often silent, save for one man who found just about every line hilarious – his barking laugh became just a bit annoying. As the first act somewhat tediously crawled towards the intermission I glanced at those sitting around me – they often looked like they were watching an Ibsen play about marital strife – intent yet somehow expecting more than what Simon has given them.

“Barefoot in the Park” runs through August 12. For tickets call (860) 364-7469 (ext. 201 in the summer / ext. 100 in the winter) or go to http://sharonplayhouse.org/theatre/tickets/

Adieu, My Sweet Rabbit

Where All Good Rabbits Go -- Thrown Stone -- Thru August 4

It may be apocryphal, but W. C. Fields once said, “Never work with animals or children.” Well, if he had held true to that credo then he certainly wouldn’t have been cast in “Where All Good Rabbits Go,” enjoying its East Coast premiere at Thrown Stone up in Ridgefield. There aren’t any children in Karina Cochran’s engaging play, but there are some animals: one that slowly transforms from a man into a rabbit and one that is just a rabbit (a real twitching little bunny). The transforming man-rabbit is the centerpiece of the play, its controlling metaphor, and as such presents no distraction. As for the real bunny, well, when it is introduced near the end of the play and placed center stage in a pen I can guess the audience members’ eyes couldn’t help but flick back and forth between the human actors and the little creature hopping around, blithely upstaging without intending to, thus justifying the wisdom of Fields’ dictum.

Bunny distraction aside, Cochran’s play is a gentle, heartfelt meditation on life, love and the stages we go through as we either prepare to confront our own mortality or deal with the impending loss of a loved one. It sounds a bit morbid, but it is really life-affirming without the soap-opera histrionics. Directed by Cyrus Newitt, this study in the descent into darkness (if that’s what it is) is a poignant portrait of how the human awareness of time and its termination can be dealt with.

So, the controlling metaphor. Well, we are introduced to Walter (Jason Peck), a farmer who has, at the start of the play, grown a fluffy black tail, the first indication that he is afflicted. With what? It doesn’t matter. The “rabbit disease” might stand for cancer, but there are many other debilitating illnesses that slowly develop and, in the process, change and redefine who we are. For purposes of the play, it’s becoming a rabbit, and as the evening progresses Walter becomes hairier and begins to hop, sure signs that the disease, as diagnosed by a doctor, Dorn (Mike Boland), is progressing. Confronted with this, Walter’s wife, Julia (Alexandra Bazan), must travel the road from denial to acceptance to, ultimately, grief and letting go, allowing her rabbit-husband to be taken to where all good rabbits go.

All of this is played out on a set, designed by Fufan Zhang, that is meant to make a statement, but what that is quite honestly escaped me. White dominates, with accent lines of black. I mean everything is white, from the couch and the throw rug to the vacuum cleaner and the bottle of wine on a table. It’s stark, to say the least…and obviously intentional. Perhaps it’s meant to convey the sterility of many hospital wards, or perhaps it emphasizes the idea that we’re dealing here with the black-and-white issue of life and death. In any event, it doesn’t detract from the production, just puzzles.

Bazan and Peck, both Equity actors, turn in commendable performances. Bazan, as Julia, is at first upbeat and positive as she confronts the possibility that her husband is ill. After all, the growth of the tail could mean many things. As her husband takes on more rabbit qualities, she gradually slips into denial and then, finally, acceptance. Then, at the end of the play she is required to deliver lines to the twitching, hopping bunny, something she does with a great deal of aplomb.

Peck is called on to become a rabbit and, for the last half of the show, must hop and exhibit an uncontrollable desire to consume vegetables. Again, we’re dealing with metaphor here, so what we are really seeing and experiencing is a man confronting his own mortality as the “disease” begins to define and consume him. An actor might be tempted to go over-the-top with this, but Peck handles his character’s transformation with style and grace.

The play is effective and moving for many reasons, chief among them is that there is probably not an audience member who has not experienced, in one way or another, what Julia goes through, for all loved ones must eventually pass. The rabbit transformation may, at first, seem a bit ludicrous, and does evoke initial laughter, but it’s a smart move on playwright Cochran’s part, for it allows everyone to relate, regardless of the cause of their loved one’s passing – everything from cancer to Alzheimer’s. The simple fact is that, regardless of the cause, impending death brings inevitable change to the person approaching his or her demise, a withering or, if you will, a remodeling of both body and personality.

“Where all Good Rabbits Go” runs, in repertory with “The Arsonists,” until August 4. For tickets or more information go to www.thrownstone.org.

Unhand Me

Hand to God -- TheaterWorks -- Thru August 26

You’re probably familiar with the idea of someone having an evil twin, that part of a person’s personality, mostly repressed, that fantasizes about being gauche, irreverent and causing general mayhem just for the hell of it. Well, what if that twin was attached to your hand in the form of a puppet named Tyrone, a foul-speaking, lubricious creature (think of a Muppet gone very bad) that often controls what you do and say? That’s one of the premises of Robert Askins play, “Hand to God,” which recently opened at TheaterWorks in Hartford. The Tony-nominated play that first appeared on Broadway in 2015 and currently under the direction of Tracy Brigden, is really an exercise in “acting out,” loosely defined as problematic behavior that is physically and verbally aggressive and often destructive of property (all of which is in the play). As such, one would think that the play would seek to reveal the reasons for such behavior and offer to resolve them in some way. Whether it does so or not remains to be seen.

The set-up is that Margery (Lisa Velten Smith) is trying to coordinate a puppet show for Pastor Greg (Peter Benson) for an upcoming church service. To accomplish this she has enlisted her son, Jason (Nick LaMedica) as well as Jessica (Maggie Carr) and a somewhat rebellious Timmy (Miles G. Jackson). The play opens, after a somewhat disjointed, pseudo-philosophical monologue by the puppet, Tyrone, with a haphazard rehearsal in the church’s basement that quickly reveals that Jason is under the control of (possessed by?) his puppet. However, sexual tension is also rife. The good pastor has the hots for Margery, whose husband, an apparently less-than-fulfilling spouse, died of a heart attack six months ago. But Timmy also lusts after Margery, and her son may have some strong Oedipal problems. Then there’s Margery herself, rife with sexual frustration. The only character who seems relatively uninflamed by libido is Jessica.

As the play unfolds, is any of it believable? Well, it all depends on whether or not you can suspend your disbelief. What is definitely believable is that Jason is using Tyrone to say (and do) aggressive, assaultive things that the mild-mannered young man would normally shy away from. Whatever part of this “acting out” you buy is much to the credit of LaMedica, who in lightning-bolt fashion switches back and forth from dutiful son to semi-sociopath. It’s an amazing performance, given that he has to convey two different personalities – introvert and extreme, foul-mouthed extrovert – all while manipulating the puppet on his hand, which he does with a great deal of dexterity.

The believability factor becomes a bit strained when we come to Margery – Jessica Rabbit’s “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way” comes to mind. Well, Velten Smith is a good actress (she’s reprising the role she played at City Theatre in Pittsburgh) asked to play an over-the top character – “She’s just written that way.” Margery has several screws loose, but we’re never really sure why, and she has her own way of acting out sans puppet – she is prone to tirades, hissy fits and what might be called revenge sex. Her character’s underlying motives seem somewhat hidden. We’re not talking Chekhov here.

Benson, as Pastor Greg, is not given much to work with by Askins, but he uses what he’s given to bring to life the somewhat self-effacing pastor, and Carr has even less “meat” in her character, Jessica, though she does pull off a rather funny (if over-long) puppet-sex scene (it’s a been-there-done-that moment for anyone who’s seen “Avenue Q”). Jackson, as Timmy, is all false bravado and ruled by tumescence. Do you buy the scenes between Velten Smith’s character and Jackson’s that lead to multiple trysts? To do so we’d have to understand a bit more about Margery and her back-story, something Askins alludes to but never really deals with. Why the rage; why the lust; what’s her problem? Is Timmy really that sexually desirable (doesn’t seem so – he’s just a punk kid looking to get laid).

To embrace “Hand to God,” it might be useful to conceive of the entire evening as allegorical, with the characters manifesting aspects of their psyches, interacting on a stage that is dictated by the subconscious. Otherwise, the events in the play, as they devolve to a certain amount of violence, including self-mutilation, challenge credibility. This allegorical take is reinforced by the play’s closing moments, which has Tyrone appear in a video (compliments of Luke Cantarella, who also designed the very functional set) to suggest that we, as human beings, might be better off if we shed the puppets we use to present ourselves to the world (and protect our fragile egos) and simply be the frail, flawed humans we really are.

“Hand to God” runs through August 26. For tickets or more information call 860-527-7838 or go to www.theaterworkshartford.org

Just a Bit More?

Oliver! -- Goodspeed Musicals -- Thru September 13

The initial moments of “Oliver!,” the Lionel Bart musical that recently opened at Goodpeed to a packed house, offer thunder, lightning and deep shadows, all of which evokes the 1948 David Lean film of the Dicken’s novel, made memorable by Guy Green’s atmospheric cinematography. However, Lean, in filming the novel, had the freedom to move from location to location and to redecorate sets as called for. Rob Ruggiero, the musical’s director, has less freedom given the restraints placed on him and scenic designer Michael Schweikardt by the confines of the Goodspeed stage. Hence, there’s a certain static quality to this production, for although props – primarily tables, chairs and lines of clothing, or, rather, nose wipes – appear and disappear, the basic scene never really changes, creating a feeling that this is more a revue featuring a lot of familiar numbers than a fully realized production of the musical.

Schweikardt’s set, with its metal stairways, pillars and balustrade that defines a raised walkway, must suffice for multiple locations. It works for the grim orphanage scene, with the children marching despondently to “Food, Glorious Food,” and Mr. Bumble (Richard R. Henry) upbraiding Oliver for having the audacity to ask for more food, but less so in many following scenes, for the set hovers over the entire production like a dark, oppressive presence.

Accepting this, as a revue, “Oliver!” has many enjoyable moments, for the cast works hard to evoke the atmosphere the set impedes. You simply couldn’t ask for a better Fagin than that created by Donald Corrin. He has several signature songs and he delivers on each one, from “You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two” to the delightful “Be Back Soon” and his character’s analysis of what life’s options offer him in “Reviewing the Situation.” He ably conveys the idea that though his character is a thief and scoundrel, there’s still a glimmer of humanity within him.

Equally effective is EJ Zimmerman as Nancy, tavern slattern and the girlfriend of the supremely villainous Bill Sikes (an impressively menacing Brandon Andrus -- he was so effective as the villain that his curtain call evoked several “Boos,” a sure sign that he had done his job as an actor). Zimmerman’s character also has some signature songs and she handles these with ease. There’s the rousing “Oom-Pah-Pah,” which opens the second act, and the heartfelt “As Long as He Needs Me,” which the audience responded to with unbridled approval. She’s a pert, believable Nancy, and her character’s death at the hands of Sikes is still shocking.

Given that “Oliver!” is primarily about children being used for criminal purposes, there are quite a few child actors on the stage, chief among them Elijah Rayman as Oliver and Gavin Swartz as the Artful Dodger. Rayman has a certain angelic quality to him that emphasizes his character is a bright light in an otherwise dark world, a world that Swartz’s character is familiar with, though one might ask him to be just a bit more “artful.”

In many past Goodspeed productions (several directed by Ruggiero), ensemble numbers often overcame the stage’s confines, but in the case of “Oliver!,” even though Ruggiero utilizes the aisles and balcony, “Consider Yourself” and “Who Will Buy?” seem oddly restrained. You want them to go one step further, to break through the visual confines and overwhelm you. That, for at least one audience member, simply didn’t happen.

Familiar as I am with the Dicken’s novel and with its various iterations in film and on the stage, it’s difficult to imagine the response of those who come fresh to the Goodspeed production. I filled in the blanks and had certain expectations for characters before they ever appeared, and much of my response was whether or not they fulfilled those expectations. I knew what I wanted Fagin, Nancy and Bill Sikes to do, and they, by and large, succeeded. Thus, I was, to a certain extent, seeing a different show than those who had never seen “Oliver!” before. In retrospect, I would have liked to set up a table outside with a little sign that said “What did you think?” Alas, all I could do was listen to the off-hand comments of the audience members as we all filed out of the theater, comments that seemed essentially positive, especially with regards to Corren’s and Zimmerman’s performances.

It all, in the end, comes down to opinion, which is influenced to a certain extent by familiarity. If you’ve tasted 10 different vanilla ice creams then your opinion of the eleventh will be different than that of the person who experiences her first scoop. Her response may justifiably be, “That was divine,” while someone with a more experienced (some might say “jaded”) palate might say, “Not bad.” In the case of “Oliver!,” the response can run the gamut.

“Oliver!” has been extended and will run through September 13. For tickets or more information call 860.873.8668 or visit: www.goodspeed.org.

If One Door Slams...

A Flea in Her Ear -- Westport Country Playhouse -- Thru July 28

 

Sometimes we enjoy a book, play or movie simply because it epitomizes a genre. It may not be a great work of art but if we’re in the mood for a Rom-com, bromance or a detective story and the work follows the rules and delivers the goods, then we may not be ecstatic but we are satisfied. Such is the case with “A Flea in Her Ear,” which recently opened at Westport Country Playhouse. If you’re in the mood for farce, then this offering will satisfy. Based on Georges Feydeau’s 1907 highly successful play, adapted by David Ives and directed with brio by Mark Lamos, “Flea” has the requisite slamming doors and mistaken identities that are the bread and butter of farce, whose appeal is primarily visual and sensual, with a heavy emphasis on physical activity.

It may take you a while to settle in for this three-act play as you figure out who the characters are and their relationships. In essence, we have Raymonde (Elizabeth Heflin), wife of Victor (Lee E. Ernst), who believes, because of her husband’s recent lack of ardor, that he is being unfaithful. Her friend, Lucienne (Antoinette Robinson) suggests a ploy: they will write a letter to Victor from an admiring, anonymous lady, inviting him to a tryst at the Frisky Puss, a hotel that caters to assignations. There, Raymonde will confront him.

Receiving the letter, Victor, although initially proud that he has drawn the amorous attentions of a lady, finally decides that the letter is meant for his friend, Romain Tournel (Stephen Pelinski) and suggests that Tournel go to the hotel. Others also, for various reasons, head for the hotel: Camille (Mic Matarrese) for a rendezvous with Victor’s household cook, Antoinette (Carine Montbertrand), and Carlos (Michael Gotch), Lucienne’s husband, who suspects his wife of infidelity and is eager to take revenge. Off they all go, and so ends the first act.

Antoinette Robinson and Michael Gotch. Photo by Carol Rosegg

The second act again requires a bit of settling in. It is set at the hotel, where new characters are introduced. As those intent on trysting also arrive, chaos ensues, with a lot of slamming doors, partial disrobing and a revolving bed. Characters appear and disappear as they attempt to hide from each other. The third act finds everyone back at Victor’s house, where all is finally resolved.

The cast of “A Flea” is, across the board, excellent, but there are a few standouts First is Matarrese as Camille, for his character has a defective palate that prohibits him from pronouncing consonants. Thus, most of his dialogue must be delivered sounding like quasi-gibberish. It’s a tour de force that immediately delights the audience; when he’s on stage he effectively steals the show and engenders the greatest laughter. Then there’s Ernst as Victor, who is also charged with playing Poche, a bell boy at the hotel who bears a striking resemblance to Victor. This requires not only some rapid costume changes but also portraying a pompous Parisian gentleman as well as a somewhat inebriated servant. He pulls this off with such success that at the curtain call you half expect to see Ernst and his doppelganger taking bows.

Finally, there’s Gotch as Carlos, the excitable, gun-toting Spaniard. As directed by Lamos, Gotch gives us an acting style that went out of date almost a century ago…but works…for his every statement and move is over-the-top, as is his difficulty with the English language. He is delightfully outrageous as a preening Spanish grandee consumed by jealousy. One can only imagine Gotch’s eagerness in being given free rein to emote, and admire his skill, for one of the most difficult things to pull off on the stage is portraying a bad actor…without giving a bad performance.

Given that the play is in three acts, with two intermissions, the farce can seem a bit overwhelming at times, especially in the second act, when the audience is seldom given a moment to catch its collective breath. Event tumbles onto event in kaleidoscopic fashion, so much so that you often do not have the leisure to comprehend what has just happened before a new twist is thrown in. Here you just have to go with the chaotic flow and enjoy the extended display of the essence of farce.

Is “A Flea” brilliant theater? No, but it is what it is, and if you accept the conventions of farce then there are moments in which you can revel. Yes, the plot is highly contrived, the characters somewhat larger-than-life and the acting primarily geared to broad strokes rather than pointillist subtleties, but we go to the theater for many different reasons, and one of them is to just sit back and be entertained, and there are many entertaining moments in this broad comedy set in the Paris of the La Belle Epoque.

“A Flea in Her Ear” runs through July 28. For tickets or more information call 203-227-4177 or go to www.westportplayhouse.org.