Whoever thought David Mamet would write what we used to call a "matinee comedy"? True, November satirically ridicules U.S. presidents, their chief assistants, business leaders, liberals and minorities. But what Mamet makes centrally important is skewering them with jokes or sometimes hoisting these types on their own petards.
Like Mamet's staccato delivery of dialogue in his serious dramas, exchanges in November teem with one-liners. When first term President Charles Smith (Daniel Greene, upset) tells assistant Archer Brown he can't be re-elected with his poor poll results and no money, Archie (William Czamiak) adds "also no issues." Except, maybe, whether Smith's constantly phoning wife can take home a couch from the White House.
Though bombing Iraq seems of minor concern, Smith worries about having almost no funds for his presidential library. Why? "Everybody hates you," Archie explains.
That includes Native American Dwight Grackle (Daniel M. Potvin, blustery). When he calls Smith for help to claim Nantucket as a casino site for his MicMac Nation, he gets only insults.
"Whatever comes up," President Smith can't "move forward" without gay speech writer Clarice Bernstein's aid. Luckily, she's back from her holiday in China where she adopted a baby girl, "all they sell," according to Archie.
Another piece of luck: a representative (Paul Mullen) of the National Association of Turkey and By-Products Manufacturers comes by to get a presidential pardon for a Thanksgiving turkey and its emergency stand-by. Soon President Smith is plotting to get more than the $50,000 paid for a pardon in the past. Why not replace mythical turkeys by discovering North Atlantic codfish (that the Indians called "tun-nah") was the real Thanksgiving entree? When it appears people won't hate the one and love the other, Bernstein (always addressed by her last name) comes up with the notion of Thanksgiving as a day of orgy with such damning behavior as interracial mixing.
Despite the Turkey Guy coming up with ever better concessions to President Smith's avarice, he feels what he ultimately has most at stake are the legacy of a great image and the library to preserve it. He bargains with Bernstein to give him a momentous concession speech; in return, he'll marry her and her partner. Meanwhile, Smith makes usual threats of sending someone on a piggy plane to Bulgaria, having the IRS on the case, exposing records (real or not).
As Archie begins to promote re-election possibilities through "money and a good idea," he tempts Smith to betray Bernstein. Just after being called a "lesbian swine" responsible for murder, national panic and probable election loss, she yet makes a selfless sacrifice. An epidemic of bird flu and a break-in by the Indian chief with a poisoned dart lead to a sardonic conclusion.
Complicated but not impossible, it fills Donna Buckalter's cleverly designed Oval Office -- are the yellow walls metaphoric? -- with laughter. eing wanded in through a security station and sitting close to the actors playing arena-style at stately desk and among handsome furnishings makes the silliest gags and most absurd behavior seem realistic to us. Director Murray Chase assures that each character is distinctive as well as distinctly seen and heard. Brief recordings of real presidents' remarks (like "I am not a crook" and "It depends on what the meaning of is is") aptly introduce both acts and a few scenes.
Clinton lookalike Daniel Greene is convincing in Smith's most vulgar and conniving moments yet remains likeable enough to win a popular vote. With William Czarniak's polished manner and voice, Archie is obviously a power behind the powerful. Paul Mullen's syrupy-sounding Turkey Guy ranges from oozing to indignant to resigned. Chase happily cast a real Asian American, Candace Artim, to portray Bernstein. Instead of her seeming far-out with her suggestions and her rush into bridal clothes, one can sympathize with Artim's Bernstein, even if Mamet set her up as a laughable far-out liberal. (By the way, supposed to be suffering with a cold, she sneezes and coughs so heartily that some of us cover our noses and mouths.)
November, as presented on Venice Theatre's alternate stage, delivers a laugh-filled matinee. And, we imagine, the same for evenings.
