Lingerie That is a Little Thin
Reviewed
4/16/04
by Carl Sternheim , Adapted by Steve Martin
Directed by Jon Jory
Arizona Theatre Company
The Temple of Music and Art, Tucson
(520) 622-2823
April 16th - May 1st , 2004
$25.00 - $39.00
The Herberger Theater Center, Phoenix
(602) 256-6995
May 6th - 23rd , 2004
$20.00 - $58.00
What everyone notices when they see the announcement of Arizona Theatre Company's final production of the season is that it is the latest adapted work of acclaimed comedian Steve Martin, Carl Sternheim's satire of the middle class The Underpants . What theatre people note when they read further is the fact that ATC has scored a coup by engaging a theatre legend to direct: securing Jon Jory to helm a show for your regional theatre is like an independent film company engaging Stephen Spielberg for their latest production. Jory, a member of New York Theatre's Hall of Fame, is a legendary figure in the regional circuit, having been the founder of the seminal Long Wharf Theatre in Connecticut and the Producing Director for a quarter century of the monumental Actors Theatre of Louisville, host of the Humana Festival of New American Plays. Jory has forgotten more about theatre than most people learn in their lifetime. It is this sure hand that is the star, for while the acting is strong and Martin's heavily revised script elicits some appreciative chuckles, the precise movement of this Germanic mechanism infused with American ingenuity is the most impressive aspect of a generally enjoyable evening. While technically not quite a farce, Jory has staged the piece precisely, with engaging blocking and meaningful stage pictures.
In 1910 Düsseldorf, Germany, Louise Maske
(Julia Dion, pictured left)
is a flittering little woman whose spirit is caged by her soul-crushing government
bureaucrat husband, Theo ( Conan McCarty ). The seminal
moment that begins her awakening is the accidental dropping of her drawers
as the King (Wes Martin) passes during a parade. Her naughty
lingerie malfunction does not go unnoticed. Two men witness this revealing
sight, one a middle class wannabe-effete named Versati (Jim Iorio)
who desires to rent their spare room and become her lover, the other a neurotic
and closeted Jewish barber named Cohen ("With a K," actor Everett
Quinton insists in the face of Theo's blatant anti-semetism) who
wants her and is madly jealous of Versati, co-renting the room and pursuing
the gradually blossoming Louise. With the help of her prying upstairs neighbor
Gertrude (Peggity Price), she embarks on an odyssey of
self-discovery. If you've seen Martin's other famous theatrical script, Picasso
at the Lapin Agil, with which ATC had a hit in 1998,
then you might see familiar patterns and processes at work. While not quite
as impressive in scope as the earlier work, it does have some interesting
themes and many funny bits.
McCarty and Dion are excellent as Theo and Louise. McCarty captures his
character's self-importance and priggishness in a matter-of-fact way, making
Theo's absurd ways very entertaining. Dion does an impressive job in presenting
Louise's large character arc, from sheltered wife through overwhelmed woman
with pressing suitors to jaded understanding of the wider world. She has
a very distinctive voice that squeaks with longing. Iorio's pretentious Versati
is a grandiose creation, defined by absurd cape flips and barely considered
grand philosophical pronouncements. Balancing this, though, is the over-the-top
Quinton, whose neurotic Cohen is ten parts Woody Allen to one part subtle.
Quinton dons and drops his heavily New York Yiddish accent with alarming
frequency and pushes the boundaries of even Martin's weird brand of reality
out of shape. By the end, his does become a softer performance, but the wild
immoderation before has already defeated the point of the character. Price's
enabling Deuter is subtly crafted, while the interloping Professor Klinglehoff,
as portrayed with repressed precision by Jarion Monroe is
a tick-filled delight. Finally, Martin's cameo as Germany's absurd King is
an appropriately unsubtle and leering creation that adds the right element
at the end of the evening.
Robert A. Dahlstrom's precarious set is a brilliant visual feast of early 20 th century German-inspired cartoon drawings and oddly pitched angles. Rick Paulsen's lighting is even and contains a few inside jokes of its own, while David Murin's costumes are meticulous creations that explores character with success. Brian Jerome Peterson's sound design is strong.
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