Courtesy of Stray Dog Theatre
Step outside. Take a whiff. You know it: Fall is in the air. Perhaps it’s the perfumed, smoky hint of burning brush or the last barbecues of the season. Maybe cinnamon, mace and nutmeg from a fresh, warm pie on a windowsill. Now, listen. The cool, crisp breezes caressing what foliage remains, the rustle of schoolchildren’s’ feet through the trees’ first drifts of dried detritus. Now, look! Pumpkins and gourds…bundles of Indian corn…garnet rivulets of blood coursing across a worn wooden floor--well, perhaps not “rivulets,” rather, “quantum, sewer-choking cataracts” of blood. If this last does not match with your Autumnal actuality, hie thee postehaste to a viewing of Evil Dead: The Musical, at the Tower Grove Abbey, courtesy of Stray Dog Theatre.
This is a tough review for me, and here’s why: I am a fan. As you may already know, this musical is based on The Evil Dead series of films, and I am an unabashed votary of these films, their star, Bruce Campbell, and their director, Sam Raimi. Given that, I must tread a path resisting the vortex of fanboy didacticism, while still acknowledging the source material, but ultimately evaluating the production on its own merits. Ah, screw it! This is a musical derived from campy cult zombie flicks! I can be granted some professional grace. High art, this ain’t. A damned entertaining night out in the lead-up to Halloween? Hellz yeah! So where to begin?
Born in a Toronto bar in 2003 Evil Dead: The Musical shines as an example of the indie-rock ethic as it emerged in musical theater in the 90s. Shows in bars, written by their performers, shown to packed-in, often drunk audiences. Its eventual buzz and successful off-Broadway run landed its cast album in the Billboard Top Ten in its category. The songcraft follows established roadmaps for comic musical theater, using recognizable pop-rock forms of the past three decades, lots of hooks and clever, winking lyrics. Sometimes a formula’s a formula for good reason. The songs require their words to be heard, as that’s where the bulk of the jokes live, so they’re hung on a comfortable, catchy framework. This succeeds to further the laugh factor, as the details of demon-possession and dismemberment lilt along atop bubbly pop songs. Lyricist George Reinblatt clearly had love for the films, even as he took fond jabs at their inconsistencies and budgetary determined compromises. Cheap. The movies were cheap.
The narrative of ED:TM essentially synthesizes the key elements of the first two films. Though the play’s original producers claim to include all three, the third, Army of Darkness, appears only referentially. (That would be Fanboy talking, by the way. We’ll throw him a Ding-Dong and a Fresca and see if that’ll shut him up for a bit.) The nut: Ashley “Ash” Williams (Gregory Cuellar) invites his squeeze Linda (Julie Venegoni), his buddy Scott (Antonio Rodriguez), Scott’s floozy Shelly (Laura Coppinger), and his own kid sister Cheryl (Anna Skidis) to spend Spring Break in a cabin in the woods…over an old bridge…where they ought not be! The discovery of a tape recorder and the pursuant listening thereto reveals that the tome they’ve found in the cellar is The Necronomicon (Book of the Dead.) The voice on the recordings clearly regrets having translated said book, and we soon learn why: utterance of its verses invites Candarian demons into this world, whereupon all manner of possession, cackling, taunting-by-moose and evil clown make-up ensue. Oh yeah, and the bridge goes out. And the trees won’t let them leave. It happens. One by one our troupe are possessed, killed or forced to kill the possessed. Along comes Annie (Stephanie Merritt), the daughter of the professorial voice on the tape (who, by the way, owns the cabin) with spineless nebbish Ed (Ryan Cooper) in tow. With the help of Jake the resourceful redneck (Steven Castelli) they find an alternate route to the cabin, by now the scene of the aforementioned carnage. Bottom line: how will Ash send the demons back and get out alive? Yeah, it’s all about Ash.
As with the films, the plot and story simply form a skeleton. Sam Raimi hung innovative low-budget film-making genius upon his, while the musical festoons its scaffold with barbs at the horror genre in general, as well as a generous portion of good-natured derision aimed directly at Raimi & Company’s masterworks. What’s so pleasing about Stray Dog’s ED: TM, under the direction of Chris Owens, is how well it succeeds independent of the originals. Sure, I know and love the flicks, but I feel quite certain that the uninitiated were represented in equal number to the faithful on opening night, and everyone had a blast. The in-jokes are neither plentiful nor crucial enough for anyone to truly feel left out. Actors carrying a cardboard cutout of a car is just plain funny. That car cutout moments later becoming the bridge is priceless. So much spewing of fake blood that the first two rows are designated the “Splatter Zone”? That’s just cool. Demon possession manifesting in a Bullwinkle-voiced mounted moose head that torments our hero? Who can’t relate? Terror, evil and blood juxtaposed with jaunty pop ditties just makes you giggle. Owens has paced the show perfectly, leaving little time unaccounted for and using the set and the space to great advantage for entrances, exits, dismemberments, decapitations, what have you.
The heavy lifting in this production falls to a young cast who are more than up to the challenge. With simple live accompaniment courtesy of a backstage trio (Joe Dreyer-piano, Billy Croghan-guitar, Sean Lanier-drums) these actors own every musical number, nailing three- and four-part harmonies clearly and energetically, with good diction—key when singing jokes or plot exposition. The opener, “Cabin in the Woods” shows this off from jump street. One criticism—one that may indicate that I need to distract Fanboy with another snack cake—is that I felt some of the spoken jokes were, well, oversold. I know theater is not film, and that musical theater is broader still. Ya gotta reach the back of the house. However, I noticed, especially from Ash, a couple of one-liners that might have been better served up as dry throwaways being swung at like a tee-shot—not always successfully. I don’t want a Bruce Campbell imitation, I don’t, and Gregory Cuellar’s performance, especially his vocals, is outstanding. This guy can act and man, can he sing. I’m only singling him out to take the fall for a trend I noticed across the board. He is, after all, the star.
Speaking of stars, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out a few. Anna Skidis holds most of act one as Ash’s sister-cum-demonic tormenter and spewer of puns and she is clearly having a ball. She brings us right along with her. Rodriguez’s Scott is as appropriately crude and crass as Coppinger’s Shelly is ditzy and trampy, and her Peg Bundy walk is classic. Venegoni’s Linda is all sweetheart one minute and crowing deadite the next; she and Cuellar share a lovely/hilarious duet about meeting at their beloved crappy retail job. Act two’s focal triumvirate of Annie, Ed and Jake take the whole thing over. Steven Castelli delivers an injection of redneck horse sense and shows off some pipes on “Good Old Reliable Jake”. He also delivers the evening’s greatest volumes of blood. Annie’s the go-getter alpha female, steamrolling poor Ed’s every utterance and the only person equipped to make sense of the Necronomicon. Stephanie Merritt employs a ‘40s screwball style patter and crisp physicalities to flesh Shelly out while Ryan Cooper…oh, Ryan Cooper! This is one freakishly gifted physical comedian. His solo number, after Ed himself has become a deadite, is a bona fide showstopper. Great voice, great moves, an actor to watch.
Now, some folks are evidently better dancers than others, but considering this is a show about weekending college kids and that the original bar-room production was such a “Mickey & Judy” affair, the lack of polish is rather charming. It might be different if they also couldn’t sing, but thankfully no one in this cast disappoints vocally. What does often disappoint is the sound system. Headset mics are employed here, all to often piercingly, especially in the female upper register. Movement also tends to interfere with their proximity to the mouth. That’s where sound comes out. A blurb in the program indicates that new acoustic treatment is forthcoming for the space; let’s hope that plays a role in alleviating the amplification inconsistencies. The lighting is spare but well realized, especially when creating the demon portal effect. Sound cues needed some tightening opening night, especially those involving gunfire.
The Tower Grove Abbey performance space is the converted sanctuary of a church dating to the turn of the last century. Not to beat the “Mickey & Judy” theme to death, but this is the kind of performance space fledgling theater companies pray to Thespis for. Its barrel vaulted ceilings, gilt Romanesque ornamentation and stained-glass window make for an impressive pre-show ambiance, and it gives a director some unique options. For example, Owens makes use of the stained glass window, behind which is another interior space, to backlight Cheryl’s silhouette when she leaves the cabin only to be savaged by demonic trees.
Evil Dead: The Musical straight up rocks. While not a perfect production, cast and crew have demonstrably undertaken this off-the-wall project with enough professionalism and seriousness to let its originators’ vision come through. Comedy is serious business, and selling ridiculous lyrics and situations with strong characters and even stronger voices without allowing the whole barn dance to collapse into chaos is testament to a talented cast under clear direction. While a couple of tech-tweaks would smooth some rough edges, this is a gem of a show for the theater-shy, the musical-averse, the horror-hater—hell, even Fanboy’s Googling the cast-album as I write.
