I’ve never seen a complete episode of Monty Python, which,
needless to say, put me at a disadvantage when I saw Spamalot. I was told that no one could resist Dame
Edna but I had no trouble holding her at arms length either. And so it was with no little trepidation that I set off to
see three supposedly funny British imports over the last month or so.
All three—One Man, Two Guvnors; Don’t Dress for Dinner and Potted
Potter—drew raves on the other side of the Atlantic. Here, in brief, is what I thought of each:
One Man, Two Guvnors: Even a down-on-comedy sourpuss like me
couldn’t resist the zany antics that director Nicholas Hytner has orchestrated
for Richard Bean’s adaptation of the 18th century Carlo Goldoni farce
The Servant of Two Masters, which itself is an homage to commedia dell arte.
Bean and Hytner update the action to 1962, right on the eve of the swinging London era,
and populate it with a gaggle of stock characters including the naïve ingénue,
the preening blowhard, the lusty sexpot, the pompous man of letters, the plucky
girl masquerading as a man, and of course, a bumbling clown.
In the commedia tradition, there is slapstick (brilliantly
choreographed by physical comedy director Cal McCrystal and performed, by among
others, the droopy-eyed Tom Edden, who deservedly has gotten a Tony nomination
for his antics as an aged waiter) and musical interludes (performed by The
Craze, an onstage band, whose music, played in a warm-up session before the
show starts and during scene changes, is so toe-tappingly amusing that composer Grant
Olding got a Tony nod for Best Score even though the show isn’t even a
musical).
But the biggest kudos (and belly laughs) have to go to the also-Tony nominated James
Corden, the roly-poly guy from The History Boys, who here plays the titular
servant with such go-for-broke comedic brio that even I succumbed. As did my friend
June, who also tends to favor more serious fare. “I wouldn’t have seen this on
my own,” she said with a big grin on her face as we made our way out of The
Music Box theater. “But I’m glad I
did.” Me too. There isn’t a more
entertaining show now playing on Broadway.
Don’t Dress for Dinner: This classic farce ran for six years when it played in
London back in the ‘90s. It’s a
companion piece to Boeing-Boing, which introduced Mark Rylance to Broadway, had
theatergoers rolling in the aisles and won the Tony for Best Revival of a Play
in 2008. But lightening hasn’t struck twice with this production, which is now
playing at the Roundabout Theatre’s American Airlines Theatre.
Playwright Marc Camoletti has kept the same main characters,
Bernard, a Parisian bon vivant who thrives on simultaneous love affairs, and
his meek best friend Robert and he's put them into another situation of mistaken
identities and slamming doors.
Unfortunately director John Tillinger doesn’t have the light
touch that Matthew Warchus used to make Boeing-Boeing such a fluffy soufflé and
Ben Daniels, a terrific dramatic actor, lacks the comic finesse that Rylance
brought to Robert.
Farce is no fun when you can see the actors straining for
the laughs. And it isn’t just me; the laughter at the performance my
theatergoing buddy Bill and I attended grew quieter and quieter as the evening
went on.
But there is one bright spot: Spencer Kayden, the comedic minx last seen on Broadway as Little Sally in Urinetown, is back in hilarious
form as a cook who is pressed into other services. Kayden gets the extravagance that farce requires and isn’t
afraid to luxuriate in it. She’s up for a Tony but whether she wins or not, we
can only pray that it won’t be another decade before she’s back on the boards.
Potted Potter: An
unabashed Harry Potter fan, I had actually looked forward to this show, which
promised a parody that would condense all seven books in J.K. Rowling’s series about the boy
wizard who triumphs over evil into just 70 minutes, with two guys playing some 300 characters. I’m not sure what
I expected, but it wasn’t the goofy kids’ show now playing at the Little
Shubert Theatre.
Potted Potter's writers and stars are Jefferson Turner and Daniel Clarkson, an Abbott-and-Costello like pair, in which the tall gangly
Clarkson plays the dumb one who supposedly hasn’t read the Potter books and so
constantly mixes up their plots.
There are loads of groaner puns and silly sight gags. There’s audience involvement—two kids are
summoned onstage, the rest of the audience gets to participate in a call and
response and to bat around a beach ball. There’s also some gross-out humor (to my dismay, I can’t get the picture
out of my head of Clarkson drooling chocolate).
The show was nominated for an Olivier award when it
played in London. The kids at the performance I attended ate it up. And my
now- thirtysomething niece Jennifer, a big Harry fan when the books first came
out, found the show to be “hilarious.”
I barely cracked a smile.
But, as I said, I’m not high on low comedy.
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