Two over-the-top comedies now on Broadway illuminate the differing styles of their respective decades of origin. They also offer pointed observations on serious subjects such as the struggle for civilization amidst natural and man-made disaster and the absurdity of our political system in a sexist, social-media-driven world. Thornton Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth receives an overblown but effective production at Lincoln Center, while a raucous new satire with a bizarre title, POTUS or Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive, explodes the Shubert Theater like a landmine of hilarity.
While Skin of Our Teeth wants you to think, POTUS just wants you to laugh out loud—and it succeeds. Playwright Selina Fillinger creates a zany White House where a nuclear proliferation treaty can be scotched because the goofball president describes his wife with an obscene adjective. Even more crazy antics follow in a stream-lined farce which whizzes by in less than two hours under the expert, rapid-fire direction of Susan Stroman.
The subtitle sums up the plot neatly. A reckless Chief Executive causes one international calamity after another while his female staff maniacally attempts to clean up his messes and save the world. The seven women of the title are not all in his entourage, but their common objective is to keep a lid on his male insanity. “Why isn’t she president,” is often uttered as more than one of the behind-the-scenes ladies shows her mettle in the deepening madness.
Chief of Staff Harriet (marvelously intense Julie White) and press secretary Jean (delightfully stern Suzy Nakamura) juggle crises as Bernadette, the president’s lesbian, drug-dealing sister (riotously no-nonsense Lea DeLaria) and Dusty, a relentlessly chipper farmer’s daughter (Julianne Hough, surprisingly funny as a character with secrets) crash the Executive Mansion.
First Lady Margaret (frosty and biting Vanessa Williams) battles her husband’s indiscretions and uncomfortable footwear. Reporter Chris (determined Lilli Cooper) strives to uncover a big story as struggles with an obnoxious ex-husband and expressing breast milk (a riotous visual gag). Rachel Dratch nearly steals the show as the prez’s demure private secretary who accidentally ingests some of Bernadette’s hallucinogenics and runs amok.
Fillinger’s scenes are quick takes resembling “SNL” sketches, but they adhere together, are chockfull of hilarious lines, and build towards a dizzying climax. Stroman displays her directing prowess, pacing the action like a musical on Beowulf Boritt’s attractive revolving set and sometimes spilling the mayhem into the aisles of the theater. Linda Cho’s costumes are just as witty, especially a hilariously awful gown for the First Lady with matching high-heeled Crocs.
POTUS is the perfect temporary solution for forgetting our current polarized political climate and laughing yourself silly. The only problem is when it ends, you have to face an even-crazier reality.
