Even if you entered the Timber Lake Playhouse's Boeing-Boeing unaware that author Marc Camoletti's play was a farcical comedy - its elbow-in-the-ribs title somehow not divulging that information - all it would take is one look at Nathan Dahlkemper's scenic design to know that some serious slapstick was bound to be in store.
The inherent danger in seeing any production of Footloose, whether on stage or screen, is that you risk having those maddeningly catchy pop tunes trapped in your brain for days. I'm therefore pleased to report that, less than 72 hours after attending the Timber Lake Playhouse's speedy and sprightly take on the musical, I no longer have "Let's Hear It for the Boy," "Holding Out for a Hero," and the rest playing in an endless mental loop. It's actually the performances by Karl Hamilton and Elizabeth Haley that I can't get out of my head.
On any given day, the musical I consider my all-time favorite will either be Sweeney Todd or Guys & Dolls ... unless that day is the day after I've seen a production of Guys & Dolls, in which case it's the clear winner. Heaven knows there are plenty of entertaining, tune-filled warhorses from Broadway's golden era, but do any of them have the effervescent fizz and pop of composer/lyricist Frank Loesser's 1950 triumph, a beautifully constructed musical comedy so funny and clever and sweet that it can keep you happy and humming for hours - like, 100 hours - after it ends?
The Timber Lake Playhouse's current production of Sweet Charity features the single most electrifying, exhilarating dance number I've ever seen on a stage. I'm well aware of what a sweeping and potentially exaggerated generalization that statement is, and almost hesitate in making it, because it's the type of effusive praise that can easily make theatre-goers (to say nothing of theatre participants) roll their eyes and say, "Oh, come on." But I'll say it again: Sweet Charity features the single most electrifying, exhilarating dance number I've ever seen on a stage. And I'm betting that fellow patrons at Thursday's performance might easily feel the same way.
Peppy, cheeky, and somewhat unsatisfying - though in ways that are rarely the fault of its current Timber Lake Playhouse presentation - Flight of the Lawnchair Man boasts a friendly spirit, a number of witty and weird diversions, and a brisk running time, clocking in (with the intermission) at a mere 105 minutes. Yet for all of its strengths, and unlike its determined hero, this musical comedy never really takes off. Director Chuck Smith's production is ingeniously designed and energetically performed, but the show itself is a little bit You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, a little bit The Wedding Singer, and a little bit Bat Boy, and about as stylistically awkward as that description implies.
After an extended silent-movie montage - one featuring clips from F.W. Murnau's horror classic Nosferatu - and the appearance of the show's title, the Timber Lake Playhouse's Sunset Boulevard opens with screenwriter Joe Gillis (Brandon Ford) at the bottom of a swimming pool. Granted, the water, like that montage, is a multimedia projection, and Gillis is standing (and singing) rather than floating face-down. But the Act I prelude is still enough like the opening to Billy Wilder's beloved Hollywood noir that fans of the Sunset Boulevard movie will likely smile in recognition and appreciation, and we're returned to this scene of a future crime at the start of the musical's second act.
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