The right way to do Theater of the Ridiculous is to play it straight. Proper directing means forbidding the actors to mug or thrust self-designed vaudeville or revue "bits" into the activity. Happily, the required two-of-the-same-sex players under Jim Helsinger's direction get everything as Charles Ludlam specified. Having recently seen the play at Arena Stage in Washington, D.C., I was worried FST would duplicate a production that, while spirited and lavish, kept laughing at itself more than the audience did. When I saw FST's ad with two similar looking actors, one tall and long-faced (Patrick Noonan), the other shorter and plump (Brad DePlanche), I wondered if they'd suggest Abbott and Costello instead of the many ficitonal personages demanded. Happily, it was enough for Noonan to be troubled Egyptologist Lord Edgar Hillcrest, plus his Mrs. Danvers-ish housekeeper Jane, and Intruder, and, more or less, another persona. As Edgar's second wife (following Irma Vep), curly blond Lady Enid, as well as peg-legged crewcut swineherd Nicodemus, dark Egyptian guide, and the resurrected mummy Pev Amri, DePlanche changes identities in the blink of an eye, rather than with winks. Good for them. And the production.
References? Imagine Hitchcock's "Rebecca" set in a Mandacrest drawing room with a staring portrait of Irma above the fireplace mantel. French doors in the rear lead to a "Wuthering Heights" of moors. In between, a bookcase can slide to reveal...a mysterious figure like Jane Eyre learned of. The windowed doors may open to Edgar towing in a freshly shot wolf or, when the moon is full, to a blood-sucking werewolf.
A dress like Scarlett O'Hara's, which Jane suggested Enid wear, enrages her husband. He must escape this hated memento of Irma! When Edgar hies to Egypt, the proscenium becomes a desert with shifting pyramids, containing deep "tombas" ingeniously reached with surprising ropes. A sarcophagus with mummy and zany cartouche must be brought to Mandacrest!
Back home, in a rearranged parlor, now showing Enid's portrait, the sarcophagus easily makes another farcical door. Nicodemus still prefers to enter from moonlight -- for a reason. Lady Enid demonstrates dulcet tones of period music on a dulcimer. Questions of Shakespearean-flavored madness and murder arise.
After an elegy, Enid has a confession to make about her father. Followed by revelations from Edgar, the couple share a calm, "Now Voyager" look outward. No smoking, though, in a sublime end to the preceding ridiculous.
From "Carmina Burana" to "Tara Theme" to wolf calls, Matt Given's sounds are right on. Just as skillfully varied is Colleen Jennings' lighting. Costumes show Marcella Beckwith's versatility. Every change of dress is split-second. No inch of space is wasted.
As a fine final embellishment: scene changers appear in flowing ghoulish outfits.
