Watching an excessively whimsical play like Almost, Maine, it's hard for me not to think of Groucho Marx's explanation when a woman in a rowboat tells his character that he is "full of whimsy," and Groucho says that he always gets that way when he eats radishes. John Cariani's undeniably audience-pleasing comedy is basically a series of duets, all described as taking place "on a cold, clear, moonless, slightly surreal Friday night in the middle of the deepest part of a northern Maine winter" in "Various locales in Almost, Maine, a small town in northern Maine that doesn't quite exist." Notice the combination of playful and precise description there. The play is equally true-to-life and tongue-in-cheek.
Only four actors play almost 20 roles in nine scenes, all taking place "at nine o'clock," all described as "romances," and all with couples who fall in love. If the town is almost real, I'd say that those skits are almost scenes, and their emotion is almost love. This almost play feels like an evening of comic improv, from which I'd bet that much of it grew. One couple, for instance, develop a relationship after she accidentally hits him in the head with an ironing board she's swinging recklessly, and he explains that he is unable to feel physical pain. OK: improvise! What could they do to change him to feel pain? How about emotional pain? Is that what is meant by "meeting cute"?
Two "county boys" find that they're more comfortable with each other than in other situations and finally blurt out that they love each other. But they regard this revelation with much more discomfort than that felt by the conventional straight audience for whom this play is clearly intended.
It's a feel-good series of comic skits, staged skillfully by director Skip Greer to make more points visually than verbally in a charming, artificial-looking, ice-blue set by Dipu Gupta, with magical lighting effects by Kendall Smith. Pamela Scofield, who designed the costumes for this play's off-Broadway premiere, created the amusing keep-warm clothing.
John Zeretzke's quirky, appealing original music lends a mysterious atmosphere that probably isn't as sleep-inducing as I was finding it.
The attractive, youngish cast could have been veterans of a Second City show -- versatile, adroit, and seeming to have fun with quick-shifting situations. Judging from the warm reaction of the audience on a cold opening night, I'd expect Geva to add some extra performances.
