Angela Bubash, Brittany Kohl, Zachary Stefaniak, Paul Cereghino, Eileen Engel, Jeff Loeffler, Anna Skidis, C.E. Fifer (seated) in Stray Dog's production of "Evil Dead: The Musical." Photo by John Lamb
Boos and salutations. October means black Jell-O at the Halloween potluck, the “Monster Mash” on the box, and various and sundry attempts to thrill and chill onstage, even. This month in theater includes a look at madness, Russian bureaucrat-style; a wild, bloody musical spoof; a thoughtful musical re-imagining of a seminal horror film; a scary old novel brought to life by a femme-centric troupe; an intellectual deity's dip into the pool of horror; and an annual theater event at which actors lurk in an actual cemetery, waiting for a hay-wagon full of audience members to pull up and witness their biographical sketches.
The staging of the classic Nikolai Gogol short story Diary of a Madman (Through October 20, upstreamtheater.org, adapted by David Holman, directed by Philip Boehm) isn’t exactly gothic, but insanity dovetails with Halloween nicely, so we’ll run with it. (The Ozzy album of the same name is probably a bit more creepy.)
Upstream Theatre, known for the intellectual and international yens of director Philip Boehm, has tasked itself with turning the fictive diary of a man driven mad by his menial job, his unrequited longings and the absurdities of the 19th century Russian caste system into theatrical gold. No less than Geoffrey Rush was involved with this noted adaptation some years ago in Australia, so this isn’t exactly new territory, but the highly stylized take on this classic lit is new to St. Louis audiences.
Poprishchin, a “clerk of the ninth grade,” ponders his insulting job sharpening quills for a much more powerful civil servant than himself. He dreams the dreams of a fool, of offering himself to the boss’ comely daughter, who will surely wind up with someone of a higher station than himself. Gradually his mind un-moors and he begins to imagine that he can hear dogs talk. He decides to follow them and learn their secrets. When he discovers a cache of the notes the canines have left for one another describing the foibles of their all-too-human masters, he’s fallen completely down the rabbit-hole, and soon he’s a jabbering loon.
Upstream regular Christopher Harris is the madman. His highly physical, sweaty, super-animated performance is never-ending motion and kvetching. Powerhouse actress Magan Wiles, who moved out of this burg a few years back, has returned to St. Louis to play the wide-eyed servant girl and two other minor roles as well.
The actors meld a number of unconventional tracks and techniques here. They break the fourth wall freely, addressing nearly every line directly to specific audience members. Harris wears heavy white clown powder and takes slapstick tumbles, both hallmarks of broad comedy. The two actors’ miscommunications—she speaks mostly Finnish, he doesn’t—are not naturalistic, but a stylized step away.
The comedy—puns, pratfalls, assorted ridiculousnes—peppers the exposition here. And this is largely exposition, as the pages of a diary are related rather than enacted, which can some off as passive. The 1:45 length, including intermission, can creep by slowly as Gogol’s “tears and laughter,” to paraphrase how Pushkin once described his prose, vie alternately for the audience’s fealty.
The tilted-floor set, expressive of insanity, is a nice touch. The piano music enhancing the action performed by Joe Dreyer is a delight.
The sense of mounting insanity and absurdity paced in a wry, Russian-lit tone in the brief 23-page short story this is based on is not in overabundance here. Romantic tinkles from the piano and a sort of straitjacket ballet lend an oxymoronic grace to the plaintive end of this one, but the rich irony of only the insane making sense in a world that’s crazier still isn’t propounded so much as nudged forth.
At a viewing of Evil Dead: The Musical (Through November 2, straydogtheatre.org, book and lyrics by George Reinblatt; music by Frank Cipolla, Christopher Bond, Melissa Morris and George Reinblatt, directed by Justin Been), my reporter's notebook became drenched with pale red fake blood. At first I worried that my notes would run, but that wasn't a problem—and it actually looks kinda cool now that it's dried!
Then again, even if my notes had oozed into illegibility, I wouldn't have needed them. It's easy to summarize this show, a high-energy, fun romp that seems to leave everyone in the audience sated, and some of them wet.
Stray Dog ain't no dummies. They've staged this one before, and it's a proven crowd-pleaser, so they're opening their 11th season with it. The sick humor—plenty of jokes and puns about amputation and decapitation—and cheesy props, music, dancing and effects are cute.
If you know the Evil Dead films, so much the better. Both the first film and the musical are unabashed, low-budget spectacles. (And horror fiends will enjoy in-jokes about Bruce Campbell and Sam Raimi.) But you don't have to. The film and musical follow the most basic of horror formulas—a carful of kids sets off for a vacation at a remote cabin, and paranormal freakiness, mass murder, and freely flung fluids follow.
Highlights include a brilliant trick involving the actors leaving the actual church that houses Stray Dog shows and performing a scene outdoors. A light source casts their shadows through the church's stained glass, and the audio is adjusted accordingly. So cool.
Another great bit: a number called “Join Us” becomes a raucous “Peewee's Playhouse moment” with hilarious special effects.
Most will not care that the show devolves into a fast-paced spectacle of songs and tireless aerobics; the entire second act is essentially a single number, barely interrupted by any sort of spoken lines. The plot is tossed out the window, but the fake blood, chainsaw, shotgun blasts, demonic make-up and full-cast hoofing win the day. Who doesn't want to “Do the Necronomicon”? The humor flags for long stretches, but by the end you won't care.
There is some fine singing, but in particular Eileen Engel as Linda has a brassy voice that impresses.
About the “Splatter Seats”: audience members may pay an extra fee to sit in a zone near the stage where they're guaranteed to get hit by a spray of fake blood. They also receive a white T-shirt to put on at the show's beginning, so they can take it home as a spattered-red memento. I was surprised by how long it took for the “splatter” to begin, and how brief it was when it did. When it finally happens, it's delightfully hilarious. I guess Stray Dog decided not to drench the church in liquid, but even still, there are tarps on pews and some seriously sticky-wet floors. Just don't go expecting a flood of fluids, like a Gwar show.
Audiences should take note of the set and lighting, which are not minimalist affairs for this show. Both evince great work.
Night of the Living Dead: A Musical Thriller (Through November 2, newlinetheatre.com, by writer-lyricist Stephen Gregory Smith and composer-lyricist Matt Conner, directed by Scott Miller) is not a campy tribute, but a serious look at paranoia and existential claustrophobia, filtered through the experience of George Romero's landmark 1968 film. There are no zombies to be found in this version, just allegories for everyday people tearing one another to shreds. Critics have called this performance “intense” and “frightening,” which is just what you want in October. New Line Theatre presents the regional premiere and first professional production of the musical.
Slightly Askew Theatre Ensemble puts their spin on the spooky chestnut The Woman in Black (October 30 to November 9, adapted by Stephen Mallatrat, based on the book by Susan Hill, directed by Rachel Tibbetts). Many will have forgotten the Daniel Radcliffe film from 2012, which was not good. SATE will surely offer more than a series of predictable startles in their re-imagining of the tale of a vengeful ghost who takes the souls of children. A version was also performed by the late Hydeware Theater in 2004.
One of the stiffest intellectuals America has ever produced, Henry James had a weakness for ghost stories, and his novella Turn of the Screw (October 25 to 26, cocastl.org, adapted by Jeffrey Hatcher, directed by Shawn Flanigan) has gradually become a classic of sorts. A two-person cast stimulates the imagination to suggest all the characters in this tale of a governess who may be imagining the ghost of a sexual predator, or may truly be seeing the apparition. It's part of COCA's “COCA Presents” series for adults and kids, though this one is recommended for teenagers and older folk only.
Finally, you really have to experience the annual Voices Of Valhalla: A Hayride Through Time (through October 19, hawthorneplayers.com, written and directed by Larry Marsh) at least once. It's magical, genuinely spooky, and sui generis. Florissant's Hawthorne Players descend a bit south to Valhalla Cemetery at 7600 St. Charles Rock Road. After dark, a hayride proceeds through the boneyard, stopping for periodic monologues by Hawthorne actors in period garb describing the achievements of their respective namesakes, buried just a few feet away from the impromptu stage. It's a celebration of local high achievers, a great version of “living history,” and an opportunity for reflection on our time in this mortal coil.
