REVIEW: Village Theatre Pulls Off a Hilarious R-Rated Avenue Q by Frank Thompson

Whether or not they’re serious about requiring the under-seventeen crowd to bring along a parent, Village Square Theatre is following the MPAA rating system, prominently displaying the “rated R” logo and information on print publicity for their production of Avenue Q, a spoof of Sesame Street, complete with humans interacting with moon-faced puppets. That’s probably a good idea, because this is definitely not a show for children or the easily offended. In his program notes, Director Jeff Sigley notes that as a fringe production (not a part of the regular season) Avenue Q steps outside Village Square’s usual commitment to family-friendly entertainment. While I respect the fact that squeaky-clean shows provide an opportunity to introduce young people to the theatre, (and can be quite enjoyable) it’s nice to see a local group going outside its established audience base/comfort zone and presenting something different.  F-bombs are dropped, there’s a song dedicated to the joys of internet porn, and such issues as racism, sexual identity, and poverty are savagely lampooned. There are more than a few “I can’t believe they went there” moments in the show, each more outrageous than the one before, which quickly establishes a sort of permission to laugh at sentiments that would otherwise be met with shock and disapproval. Much in the style of the late George Carlin, Avenue Q realizes that the best way not to offend anyone is to, well, offend everybody. Having seen the show before, I was curious as to how it would play in what is a traditionally conservative house. If the audience at Sunday’s matinee is any indication of the overall response, this show has people guffawing like hell, almost to the point of rolling in the aisles. There are no sacred cows in the script, yet the writing never descends to sophomoric vulgarity in hopes of getting a cheap laugh. Yes, it’s unabashedly naughty and inappropriate, but the script is smart, clever, and somehow manages to establish its small urban neighborhood as a bizarre but welcoming place.

It’s a typical day on Avenue Q, with the regulars and a couple of newcomers to the neighborhood all doing their best to navigate the world of disillusioned Gen-Xers facing more humble lifestyles than they expected. In his introductory song, Princeton, ( well-voiced and puppeteered by Brooks Torbett) a recent college graduate, wistfully sings “What Do You Do With A B.A. In English?” The answer is that you move to the ghetto of Avenue Q, get a cheap apartment, and ponder the grim realities of adult life disappointment through a poignant but relatably funny musical introspective. In getting to know his new neighbors, Princeton finds budding romance with Kate Monster, (winningly created by Julia Hudson) a sweet, somewhat naïve young woman, and strikes up a conversation with former child star, Gary Coleman.

 As one of the few flesh-and-blood human residents of Avenue Q, Coleman has burned through his Diff’rent Strokes money, hit rock bottom, and is now working as a maintenance man. Ara-Viktoria McKinney-Goins (who also serves as the show’s Musical Director) brings a gently irreverent tone to Coleman, which, while saucy and tinged with gallows humour, is never demeaning or cruel with regards to the late Coleman’s legacy. Providing some of the funniest “I’m going straight to hell for laughing at this” moments is Melissa Hanna’s Christmas Eve, an Asian-American woman whose broad caricature is only slightly less inappropriate than Mickey Rooney’s infamous turn as Mr. Yunioshi in the 1960s film, Breakfast At Tiffany’s. However, there’s such a complete detachment from real-life sensitivities, it somehow seems acceptable to laugh. As with the rest of the oft-politically incorrect denizens of Avenue Q, there’s no malice behind or “laughing at” Christmas Eve’s broken English and double-entendres. She’s quirky and plays to the stereotype, but she is a fully accepted and beloved-if-cranky member of the community. This is a fairly difficult tightrope to walk, and Hanna succeeds.

In a few of the more outrageous moments, we encounter Tyler Elling and Resi Talbot as the “Bad Idea Bears,” a somewhat Family Guy-esque variation on the virtuous “Care Bears” toys  which promote good behaviour and healthy decision-making. In a side-splitting montage, these sweet-faced teddy bears and their puppetmasters convince Princeton and Kate Monster to get wildly drunk on a work night, in addition to other shenanigans, all sung in the style of a “be good, kids” cartoon. Meredith Olenick gets roof-raising laughter in her turn as “bad girl puppet” Lucy The Slut. Lucy lives up to her name, complete with Dolly Parton coif, one-night stands, and foam rubber-and-felt décolletage. Keep a sharp ear out, as her one-liners are fast and sometimes unexpected, and you won’t want to miss a single tarty wisecrack. Perhaps the most memorable character, though, is Trekkie Monster, an obviously *ahem* inspired-by-Cookie-Monster aficionado of online sex videos. William Arvay gives Trekkie a soul beneath his grumpy exterior, but never holds back on allowing Trekkie to be who he is. Arvay’s “The Internet Is For Porn” literally stopped the show, and this old pro played every scene to its fullest, without ever drawing attention away from the rest of the cast. Avenue Q is an ensemble piece, and that concept/energy is obviously embraced by the team. The rest of the cast consists of Beck Chandler, (Brian) Raymond Elling, (Nicky) and James Galluzzo (Rod/Singing Box). Each brings a professional, well-rehearsed, and wickedly rib-tickling performance to a uniformly solid production. Stage Manager Lindsay Brown does an excellent job of riding herd on her human and puppet actors, and keeps the show’s pace moving briskly and seamlessly, with set changes, sound cues, and transitions going smoothly and efficiently.

…which leads me to what ultimately makes Avenue Q a success. This cast and crew obviously like each other, and have created that feeling an audience member can sense when a cast just “clicks.” The puppets and their handlers have spent a great deal of social time together, reinforcing these odd little relationships with which they’re tasked to bringing to life. A quick glance at Facebook shows multiple group karaoke outings, an evening on the town with the puppets in tow, and even some shots of Hudson and Kate Monster enjoying karaoke in the ship’s lounge on Hudson’s recent vacation cruise. Also worthy of note is the mid-rehearsal-period illness of director, Sigley. Having been hospitalized with pancreatitis for almost two weeks of the rehearsal period, he heaps tremendous praise on his cast and production team for following the oft-observed advice to “Keep Calm And Carry On.” McKinney-Goins made sure the cast perfected their vocals during their leader’s absence, and the group collectively did table work and tentative blocking, providing a semi-finished piece for Sigley to refine and complete upon his return. As one who extols the importance of teamwork and cast bonding when directing, I always appreciate seeing it having been emphasized in a show I’m reviewing.

Is Avenue Q flawless? No, but the good by far outweighs the bad. Dan Woodard’s set is just about perfect in design, but occasionally suffers from lighting issues which sometimes give the stage an overly bright, “full wash” texture, occasionally to the point of obscuring projected images on the upstage scrim. To their credit, Village Square usually features live musicians for musical theatre productions, but as a non-season show, Avenue Q relies on recorded music tracks. This is normally a somewhat significant disappointment to me, but in this oddball world of a children’s-show dystopia, it actually works. The music sounds like the incidental tunes we of a certain age recall from various PBS kids’ shows of the 70s and 80s, and in this specific case, that’s just what is needed. Although they were brief, I wish the show had not stopped for scene changes. The set is somewhat minimal,each vignette flows easily into the next, and spending 30 or so seconds in the dark did take me out of the moment a few times. Bringing the end of one scene or song downstage while the next one is being set upstage would have been perfectly true to the reality established by Avenue Q, and would have maintained a greater sense of continuity and uninterrupted flow.

While worthy of note, these few drawbacks do not significantly detract from the joyfully guilty pleasure that is Avenue Q. If double-entendres, single-entendres, occasionally raunchy humour, and broadly-drawn zany characters are your thing, you’ll enjoy Avenue Q. If you appreciate all of the above, wrapped in an overall message of acceptance along the lines of “don’t feel so bad, we’re all f**ked up in one way or another,” you will absolutely love it. Village Square is only a 20 minute drive from downtown, so make the trip out to Lexington this weekend and visit the fine folks and merry monsters of Avenue Q.

Avenue Q concludes its run this weekend, with performances at 7.30pm Friday and Saturday, and a 3pm matinee on Sunday. Tickets can be reserved at VillageSquare.com, or by ringing the Box Office on 803.359.1436.

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER.

REVIEW -- Workshop Theatre Raises the Bar with Other Desert Cities

“In a bold step outside of musicals and light comedies, Workshop has taken a chance with a more serious dramatic piece, and the payoff is a moving, thought-provoking, and occasionally unsettling production which closes on a hopeful note.”

Marshall Spann and Dell Goodrich

As always, I will open by disclosing that I am a frequent director and member of the Board of Trustees for Workshop Theatre, which is of particular importance in the case of Other Desert Cities. Organizational affiliations aside, I strive for neutrality and objectivity with all of my reviews, and do my best to put on blinders concerning friendships and professional connections with cast members, performing companies, etc. That said, here’s my take on the production, which runs through Sunday afternoon at Columbia College’s Cottingham Theatre.

Wow.

Under the skilled guidance of Jefferey Schwalk, who makes his Columbia directorial debut, this finalist for the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Drama comes to glorious, heartbreaking, and oft-hilarious life through the work of a uniformly strong and experienced cast. While known for quality and high production values, Workshop has set a new standard for itself and its audiences with this distinguished and compelling drama/comedy which spends the first quarter of the show providing subtle exposition through a series of intelligent wisecracks and bitingly witty exchanges, gradually morphing into a dystopia of family secrets and suppressed resentments. Unless you were lucky enough to grow up in an extremely happy and conflict-free home, you’re likely to recognize at least some of the dysfunction, which makes Other Desert Cities relatable to almost everyone. (Seriously, while the script is brilliant, it could be mildly to moderately triggering to those with unresolved family-based emotional wounds. There’s no physical violence onstage, but as far too many of us know, words can sting much more than a slap to the face.)

The plot is a straightforward one, so I won’t risk creating spoilers with an in-depth synopsis, but the basics are that Brooke Wyeth (Dell Goodrich) is a writer from NYC, visiting her childhood home in California for the first time in six years. There she encounters her acerbic mother, Polly (Debra Kiser), who openly criticizes Brooke’s liberal politics and presumably humble lifestyle. Brooke’s father, Lyman (Bill Arvay), is a former B-list cowboy/detective film star who has made a name for himself as a GOP politico representing the “old guard Hollywood” brand of conservatism. Clearly based on the Reagans, Polly and Lyman both reference time spent with “Ron and Nancy,” and drop a few more right-wing names throughout the script, with Lyman presenting himself as the more reasonable and decent parent while Polly revels in her dragon-lady persona. Polly’s brother, Trip (Marshall Spann), and fresh-out-of-rehab aunt, Silda (Resi Talbot) complete the family circle, as the quintet attempt to spend a pleasant Christmas Eve together despite their differences. Looming over the holiday is the shadow of Henry, the deceased third Wyeth sibling. As with most families thrown together at the holiday season, age-old irritants quickly surface, and resentments are only somewhat tempered by the Yuletide spirit. While substance abuse doesn’t directly drive the plot, drugs and/or alcohol are frequently consumed, subtly contributing to the aura of desperation each character brings to the situation. Through the course of the show we discover more than a few hidden psychological scars, a couple of turnabout motivation revelations, and a second-act reveal that forces the audience to rethink prior assumptions about the entire family. If you’re looking for a morality tale with clearly-defined “good guys and bad guys,” you won’t find it here. Each of the Wyeths has secrets, and everyone shows the capacity for cruelty and kindness, often within the same sentence or two.

The performances are uniformly solid, with Goodrich’s Brooke as a particular standout. The events unfold from (presumably) her point of view, and Goodrich wrings pretty much every emotion out of her character as the story progresses. (Having seen and admired her work for years, I must say that this is one of her strongest roles to date.) Brooke is the adult child who never fit in with her family, which Goodrich clearly conveys without ever resorting to melodrama. Part of what makes Other Desert Cities so impressive is its commitment to stark realism, and the cast never flinches or sugar-coats the subject matter. Arvay’s commanding stage presence and imposing physique lend themselves perfectly to the ascot-sporting benevolent patriarch whose explosions are few and far between, but Vesuvius-like when they do occur. Kiser’s performance dovetails nicely with Arvay’s, bringing a constantly nagging but easily dismissed balance to the parental team. One can easily envision them having (perhaps unknowingly) having raised their children by the “good cop/bad cop” technique. As Silda, Talbot creates a sassy, aging peacenik with flower-child sensibilities. While battling her own demons, Silda serves as an advocate for Brooke, yet holds a few of her own cards out of sight. Having seen her in mostly musicals and comedies, I was most impressed with Talbot’s dramatic acting chops. As does Goodrich, she takes on a character that could easily drift into caricature, and portrays a three-dimensional human being whose life choices took her down a different path than the one her sister chose. Spann’s Trip, who exudes a friendly enough persona, is arguably the only glue binding Brooke to the rest of the clan. At times cynical, and at others genuinely hopeful, Spann artfully captures the spirit of a young man who has accepted his mundane yet lucrative life as the producer of a courtroom reality show. Given that Lyman’s film career was financially rewarding but undistinguished, it makes sense that Trip would see himself as having similarly “succeeded” in show business, and Spann subtly incorporates touches of Arvay’s aura of undeluded self-satisfaction. The script has each of them acknowledging that his work is anything but high art, yet neither approaches this admission with shame or resignation.

On the technical front, the unit set, designed by director Schwalk and Patrick Faulds, is fully realized and realistically furnished. Not only does the family room appear cared for and complete, it features various books, works of art, and bric-a-brac contributed by the cast (including a painting by the late Gerald Floyd, a Columbia theatre icon.) This touch of personalization will likely go unnoticed by most, but I suspect it provided an extra element of actor familiarity with the space, which added a layer of believability to the performances. Another nice touch is a series of framed movie posters depicting Lyman’s silver screen days. Costume Designer Alexis Docktor brings her well-established skill to the production, with an outstanding use of color, dressing Brooke in shades of grey and black, with the rest of the cast in bright pastels and primaries. Brooke is the only family member not living behind some manifestation of a façade, and freely admits to having been hospitalized for depression, while the others (at least initially) suppress and hide their respective dark experiences. Lighting and sound are ably handled by Dean McCaughan, who does a particularly nice job of side-lighting the small section of the outdoors glimpsed through the room’s French doors, and Stage Manager Jeff Morris keeps everything moving at a steady pace while coordinating a prop-heavy show.

Other Desert Cities is almost flawless, but I would be remiss not to mention the minor issue of occasionally having found the more intimate moments of conversation a bit difficult to hear. Cottingham Theatre’s acoustics are not ideal, and the actors perform without mics, so if you want to catch every word, I would suggest taking a seat somewhere around audience center or closer.

In a bold step outside of musicals and light comedies, Workshop has taken a chance with a more serious dramatic piece, and the payoff is a moving, thought-provoking, and occasionally unsettling production which closes on a hopeful note. It may not be “happily ever after,” but by the epilogue, it looks as if the Wyeth family may finally be at peace with itself.

Tickets for Other Desert Cities may be purchased online at Workshoptheatre.com, or by calling the box office at (803) 799-6551.

Frank Thompson is proud to serve as Theatre Editor for JASPER.