Killjoy is about the potential joy of killing a miserable scoundrel of a spouse. Thus, a comedy is born and guaranteed to keep you laughing at Scripps Ranch Theater. Jill Drexler is Carol, the former wife of Victor, played by Allan Salkin. She has direct ethereal communication with a priest advisor. She's a Jew but seeks counseling wherever she can find it. After 24 years, her totally rotten husband dropped her for a trophy-wife in her mid-twenties. Slime-bag hubby is trying to reduce his alimony payments, treats his son terribly, his daughter slightly better, and Carol like garbage. To say that Victor has any redeeming qualities is stretching a point. Salkin's Victor is one of the most dislikable characters I've seen recently. Admittedly, he is an over-written stereotype, but Salkin does a nice job of being a total bastard.
Tom Hall is son Sonny. He is that one character in all good works that changes. His portrayal of Sonny, as an under-the-heel-of-his-father, is sad to watch. He is also the one character that'd easily to empathize with -- a touching performance.
Rick, played by Wilson Schooley, is Victor's attorney, a slime-weasel of the worst kind. He'd rather bed Victor's ex than pursue his client's interests. Schooley gives him gusto and shows us that even a bottom-feeding lawyer can sink even lower.
Claudia, Victor's current wife/trophy bimbo, is athletically played by Clarissa G. Rasberry. Claudia is a bouncy bimbo of the highest order. She tries to be charming, she tries to be sweet, she tries to be so much she isn't.
We see too little of Angie Engelbert, daughter Vicki. What we do see is a nicely controlled portrayal of a daughter, like her brother, dominated and terrorized by her father.
Director Rethoret's good cast brings this work enjoyably to the stage. Rick Carlson's set is so comfortably real I want to move in. Cindy Cetinske's costumes work well, as does Mitchell Simkovsky's lighting and Gordon Bergholtz's sound.
Killjoy by playwright Jerry Mayer relies on stereotyped characters and some extremely funny one-liners. Alas, none of this makes for a full-length play. Plot twists work best when there is some forecasting; you see the twist and then can remember an incident earlier that foretold the event. The playwright, on several occasions, pulls rabbits out of hats. (I will not reveal any of these, but see how many you find.) Mayer writes himself into a corner and escapes by invisible skyhooks or other contrivances.
That said, I recommend the play. The director and cast make script more than it is. Drexler adds depth, Salkin plays every ounce of meanness, and Schooley is so oily, I thought I detected grease spots on the stage.
