(out of 
)Britain's scandalous playwright of the 60's, Joe Orton, turned the stodgy West End theatre establishment on its ear. During his woefully short career, he wrote farces that were far beyond innuendo, and willing to take on any of the hitherto untouchable subjects, from sexual preference to gender to British reserve to the deified Sir Winston Churchill. His plays, such as his Loot and What the Butler Saw, don't just have teeth, they have fangs. Even today, one must be wary when mounting an Orton, knowing that everyone in the audience will be offended by something, but some people won't laugh at themselves as readily as others.
Theater Works and Director Matthew Cary have been more than just wary, they've been downright petrified of the threat looming from their western flank named Sun City. The producers and director have indiscriminately ripped every fang out of the mouth of their current production of What the Butler Saw, emptying all potentially cutting incisors, then refilling it with a comfortable set of dentures that have a few blaring gaps between the plastic molars. What struts the boards at Theater Works is named What the Butler Saw, but bares little resemblance to the original biting satire, and more to the kind of Feydeau farces that Mr. Orton was rebelling against in the first place. To call this production racy, because a woman appears in a bra and panties while a man runs around stage in Union Jack boxers is not just a lie, it's an outrage. It's completely understandable to hesitate presenting Orton at Theater Works. It's even somewhat understandable to tame it a bit for mass consumption. To hack the script into tiny, sanitary pieces and sew them back together in a way that leaves some of Orton's cleverly crafted resolutions unresolved is unforgivable. I mean, what happened to that special missing part of Sir Winston Churchill, anyway! It's one of Orton's themes that is added back, but not resolved, in this messy reconstruction that is doing to him theatrically what Kenneth Halliwell did to him literally. If you must change Orton's intention, why mount his work in the first place?
Even this could be endured, if the production managed to speed past this dental nightmare a'la Marathon Man, and give the audience the consistent and abundant belly laughs Mr. Orton has throughout his script. Unfortunately, while there are some moments of Mr. Cary's production that rise to the level of rollicking, and some that maintain an enjoyable level, the odd and quirky pacing, miscasting of one of the players, and occasional blunders make this all the more painful an extraction.
What's left of the play deals with a psychiatrist running a mental hospital, his nymphomaniac wife, and the strange goings-on when each attempts a seduction of youngsters that ultimately includes a government hospital inspector and a policeman. Occasionally touched on are questions of mental health, gender roles, sexual preference and the class system. Those who do not know of Mr. Orton's work may find it a pleasant and sometimes naughty piece. Mr. Orton may very well be rolling in his grave to hear that description, though.
Mr. Cary has done some things well, including making sure his actors have a consistency in their dialects. Some of the blocking is well-timed for a farce. Several of his casting choices are workable. For these things, he must be commended.
The two leads, Chris Nickerson and Suzanne Hickey, are well-cast and do solid jobs of recreating their slightly insane married characters. Mr. Nickerson is a very good deadpan, integral to that role, and Ms. Hickey's two-faced bourgeoisie is careful and studied. As the two youngsters, potential secretary Geraldine, and potential rapist Nicholas, Rachel Schwartz and Matthew Harris are pleasant and believable. Even Kevin Cleere's Sergeant Match, while not being on the same level as the leads, does an acceptable job. When these performers are on stage, things range from hilarious to pleasant.
It's when Morris Baughman appears as the government nutcase Dr. Rance that this production falls into the dustbin. Mr. Baughman mangles the already eviscerated dialogue, drops cues, mumbles, and telegraphs his blocking minutes before he moves. You can actually watch this actor think about where he's supposed to be, locate the place, and shuffle over to it. He will stop in the midst of a particularly long line, consider his next words, not as a person giving a studied response, but as an actor trying to mentally scan a script, and then plow ahead. His role is so important, his performance takes what still might have been a bearable production, and sinks it to the level of the reconstituted dialogue.
At least the technical elements of the show are solid, from Greg Wolf's interestingly unbalanced set design to Scott Campbell's lights, Laura Durant's sound and Rebecca Avery's appropriate costumes.
The Saturday night I reviewed was sold out, and a surprising few audience members left at the intermission of this truncated production. That, in itself, should say what has happened to Mr. Orton's work. If it can play Sun City, it can't bear any resemblance to the author's original intentions.
Production Details:
What the Butler Saw by Joe Orton
Theater Works, Peoria
(623) 815-7930
July 16th - August 8th, 1999