What kind of a name is "Fuddy Meers," anyway? My computer spell check rejects it over and over (seeking out fuzzy-minded, perhaps?), but after seeing this most unusual drama, comedy, farce, melodrama, slice of dysfunctional family life, I won't reject this most unusual production. On the boards until season's close, Fuddy Meers is a "Swan Song" presentation at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival's soon-to-be scrapped Black Swan Theater. But back to the question of what is Fuddy Meers? My lips are sealed, but the answer, as revealed in this two-act play by David Lindsay-Abaire, is a clever bit of word dipsy-doodle.
In the playbill liner notes, director James Edmundson candidly admits the play is a reflection of the bewilderment and chaos of many (too many) American families, including his. However, in all fairness to both the playwright and Edmundson, this group of loonies that creates mayhem across the stage is no more a microcosm of life as I know it than are the families in Arsenic and Old Lace or The Man Who Came to Dinner.
The oddballs includes the protagonist, Claire, who arises each morning with a total memory loss; she needs to have her entire life dealt out to her from a brand new deck of cards, many of which are jokers. Her husband, Richard, guides her each day like a seeing-eye dog but will not lead her to the trauma that caused her daily amnesia. Then there's Phillip, who mysteriously crawls out from under her bed one fine morning -- her brother? Lover? Anyway, he's just escaped from jail along with his pal, Millet. This guy speaks mostly to his ever-present hand puppet (his alter ego and confidant). If this group, along with partially-paralyzed stroke victim mom, sounds like your family, "America's Funniest Home Videos" awaits. This is not Ozzie and Harriet Nelson.
Claire is convinced by Phillip that Richard has been a less-than-perfect husband; only Phillip can help her fill in the blanks of her life. Off they go with Millet and his puppet to her mom's house in the country. This old lady (Gertie) needs a space-age language translator, her stroke having taken its toll on her speech faculties. Later in hot pursuit are Richard and son Kenny who is, not surprisingly, hooked on escapist drugs. Any will do thank you. The gang of six is suddenly put into turmoil with the arrival of police officer Heidi. Well, she's not exactly a cop; she's more of a prison guard in love with Phillip. The comedy/farce reaches a delicious climax at the close of act one when everything happens to everybody all at once. It is a priceless piece of action and staging worthy of a Mel Brooks production.
Claire is like a "blank snowflake," drifting on a different breeze each day. Judith-Marie Bergen brings a wide-eyed innocence to the character during the first part, and brittle, seeking, demanding qualities to her persona as the play moves on. Richard Elmore is a surprise casting choice as the mean-spirited, scheming Phillip. He does justice to the part dragging his injured leg, reminiscent of Quasimodo. He is also adorned with a horrifically disfigured face. Normally playing more debonair parts, Elmore obviously relishes the roll of this blatant, out-and-out villain. His side-kick Millet (Ray Porter), puppet on arm, grabs the audience by its laugh track and doesn't let go, not for the entire show. Porter's delivery, body actions and timing make it worth seeing the show a second or third time. As bumbling, stumbling Gertie, Catherine E. Coulson has the task of making her love for her daughter poignant and believable in spite of the scenario's unbelievable circumstances. Coulson turns the trick, winning her daughter and our sympathy.
As they would when attending a British film, the audience must work hard and listen carefully to Coulson's speech handicap, but her balancing act between nonsense and making sense is remarkable.
Lindsay-Abaire's play is also caught on the high wire, balancing between comedy and pathos. His view of a family mired in the muck of our sick society has a just cause, but he offers too little of what elements might redeem these people or make us really care what happens to them. However, there's much positive to be said for Fuddy Meers, including some priceless staging and the sharp tempo crafted by Edmundson. Even here, some may find this all over the top or dealing too frivolously with grossly unhappy people. We don't identify with any of them except for Gregory D. Linington's portrayal of Kenny, Claire's son. He opens his heart and his vulnerability at play's end, but we get only a hint of what his pain has been and where these people will go from here. If the play weren't so funny, if it had to rely on sympathetic characters, believable situations, or a tight plot, I'd have a tough time recommending Fuddy Meers. But it is a damned funny play with many truly hilarious scenes.
A warning to those with younger children: there is a good deal of jailhouse language throughout.
