"TOP PICK"
LOS ANGELES TIMES, July 9th, 2009
Reviewed by Philip Brandes
When the Greek Chorus of "The Wasps," harmonizing like a barbershop quartet, promises "an old-time comedy," they're not kidding -- Aristophanes' classic satire has been running, off and on, since 422 B.C.
The actors preparing to stage the piece may coyly admit at the outset that they'd prefer something more modern, chalking the choice of material up to affordable royalty fees. But there's nothing arbitrary here -- director-adapter-composer Meryl Friedman knows exactly what she's doing with her witty, freewheeling vaudevillian update. Originally commissioned to inaugurate the 2006 opening of the indoor auditorium at Malibu's classical-themed Getty Villa, the production has been remounted at the Lost Studio Theatre.
Highbrow purists need not apply -- Friedman and her seven-man troupe gleefully gut the text as they set out to recapture the irreverent spirit of Aristophanes' style of comedy, more closely aligned with modern slapstick than heavily footnoted academia. All you need to know by way of background is that in ancient Athens, juries consisted of retirees bribed by the state, whose invariably harsh, stinging (and irreversible) verdicts earned them the nickname of "Wasps."
One particularly cranky juror (Peter Van Norden) goes by the name of Pro-state (out of his sense of patriotic allegiance), making him the target of awful puns ("Are you Prostate?" / "No, I'm standing up"). The story, such as it is, involves the efforts of his upstart son (Albert Meijer), an Elvis Presley-style crooner, to get Dad to renounce his vocation, get a social life, and preside as judge over the trial of their family dog (Robert Alan Beuth) accused of stealing cheese. John Apicella, Mark Doerr, Hubert Hodgin, Steve Totland and music director-accompanist David O. do their skillful best to ensure that plot intricacies never obscure the prime directive that stupid is good.
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"YOU HAVE TO SEE IT MORE THAN ONCE"
BACKSTAGE July 7th, 2009
Reviewed by Dany Margolies
Because critics love to, um, criticize, let's leap right in. This production offers so much to its audience that it's impossible to catch everything. If we focus on the hilarious choreography, we miss the witty lyrics. If we try to follow the plot, we miss the naughty bits in the costuming. Well, the worst we can say about this production is that it must be seen more than once to get its full flavor.
Writer-director Meryl Friedman has melded the crux of Aristophanes' The Wasps with a sharp salute to vaudeville in which a troupe of actors tries to put on the show. The characters warn us at the top of the play, "The jokes are so old, they're prehistoric." They continue to make us laugh, though, delivered expertly by the cast—from visuals such as rubber chickens and unwieldy reams of paper to jokes about walking into a bar. Friedman's score of cheery tunes and whimsical lyrics is enhanced by music director David O's considerable skills on piano, kazoo, and slide whistle—not to mention his vocal work as an annoying female telephone caller. Choreography well suits the tone and the actors' abilities. But the unexpected delights of this show are the pleasing voices and stirring harmonies of the septet of veteran actors. Well, mostly veterans. We would have paid many drachmas to sit in on rehearsals and watch the six senior talents as they brought along the seventh, who plays Sonny Boy.
As the landowning Old Man, Peter Van Norden effortlessly tosses off business and dialogue, thanks to his deep skills set. John Apicella as the banjo-playing juror (oh, yes, he strums) is a live wire of comedic shtick. Hubert Hodgin, the "very tall juror," craftily plays the comedy with all due seriousness. Steve Totland plays the "juror with an accent" using a sweetly goofy accent of indeterminate origin. As the Chorus Leader, Mark Doerr wrangles the wayward "actors" playing these parts and yet adds his own zaniness at every turn. Robert Alan Beuth pulls out all stops as the slave who is rightfully irked at losing his solo number, rightfully bemused at being saddled with the role of the dog in the trial. The newcomer to the business, but apparently well-schooled in the rich tradition of very old comedy bits, Albert Meijer sings, dances, and portrays Sonny Boy with, literally, the best of them.
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"CLASSIC GREEK GEEK CHIC"
LA WEEKLY June 25th, 2009
Reviewd by Paul Birchall
With its amiably hammy seven-person ensemble of mostly veteran character actors who prance around caparisoned in codpieces with slinkies attached, this high spirited rendition of the classic Greek comedy proves that Aristophanes and shtick go together like, well, Aristophanes and shtick. Adaptor-director Meryl Friedman's earlier staging of this production was created to commemorate the opening of the new Getty Villa auditorium. It ran four performances there, but has now been moved to this new, much smaller venue on La Brea Avenue with all its brisk silliness in tact. Aristophanes' play is a barbed satire of the fifth century BC Athenian tradition of paying retirees for serving on a jury. As such, it is perhaps unsurprising that Friedman's take on the material drifts from the political elements, opting instead to meander into delightfully dippy gags and cheerful musical numbers. While digressive, these theatrical sojourns turn out to be oddly faithful to the tone and mood of the original comedy. There are fart jokes, drunken revelry and, for the finale, there's a trial in which an old man (Peter Van Norden) adjudicates a case involving a dog (Robert Alan Beuth, in wacky dog-drag). As the elderly Athenian fool, Van Norden possesses a Zero Mostel-like comic gravitas, which he uses to comedic advantage in his perfectly timed, bug eyed, joyously leering turn. Albert Meijer, as the old man's uptight and pompous son, mugs off him brilliantly. David O's orchestration of Friedman's jitterbug-like musical numbers is delightful - and his sound effects, as though from a radio play, mesh perfectly with the sweet and joyful testament to Classical Greek geek chic. |
