Farce is an
extremely difficult balancing act, so it is with considerable delight that I
strongly recommend The Explorers Club,
currently playing at the Manhattan
Theater Club at New York City Center Stage 1. I laughed long, loud and lustily, and
required several cocktails afterward to regain composure.
The play
takes place in London in 1879. The
Explorers Club (wonderfully realized by set designer Donyale Werle as an elaborate bar filled with such exotica as
elephant tusks and snowshoes) is faced with dramatic challenges: the acting
president want to admit an accomplished female explorer, and the bartender is
currently missing in action.
Phyllida
Spotte-Hume (a marvelous Jennifer
Westfeldt) arrives with her own savage, Luigi (the athletic Carson Elrod) to make her presentation;
her candidacy is nearly undone by the returning hero Harry Percy (a magnificent
David Furr) and elder archeologist and
religious fanatic Professor Sloane (a wry John
McMartin).
Fortunately,
acting president Lucius Fretway (a handsome Lorenzo Pisoni) not only loves Spotte-Hume, but is actively
campaigning for her inclusion. And her
science is so impeccable! As the
lady-explorer says when talking about the “lost tribe” from which Luigi
came: “They have hunted nearly all the
animals to extinction, and are forced to subsist on a jerky made of toad. The toad is poisonous. But most of the poison boils off when the
toad is poached in urine…”
Well…,
after Luigi accidentally slaps Queen Victoria (long story) and Sloane is nearly
murdered by irate Irishmen after explaining that they are the lost tribe of
Israel (ditto), the club is besieged by rioting Irishmen, the London police
force, and, perhaps most insidiously, a cabal of murderous monks led by the
vengeful former associate of Fretway.
Through the
course of the evening, the savage disguises himself as the missing bartender, we
have a visit from the home office, there is talk of airships, most cast members
quote Gilbert & Sullivan and we
are treated to some of the best physical comedy I have even seen on stage
involving flying highball glasses. In
short, this is a ribaldry funny cocktail created expressly for the Masterpiece Theatre set.
Kudos to
Tony-nominated writer Nell Benjamin
for concocting such a colorful bauble. In
an age where political correctness would make imperial empire jokes nearly
impossible, she upends the contemporary political discourse by reducing all
politics to what they are at core: ludicrous folly.
The
direction by Marc Bruni is spot-on,
never missing a beat. The cast is
uniformly excellent, and terrific support from Max Baker, Brian Avers, Steven Boyer and Arnie Burton.
The
Explorers Club is playing though August 3rd, and this is a comedy
not to be missed.
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