The Underpants
Reviewed by David Ellivloc
Spoiler Alert: The Underpants, by Steve Martin, is a play about much more than just underpants, including some deep reflections on fleeting fame/infamy, lust, jealousy, friendship, marriage and knowing your own mind. Not too shabby for the 2002 adaptation of a farce written in Germany all the way back in 1910 by the playwright Carl Sternheim and entitled Die Hose. Like all good farces, the play includes a man with his pants down around his ankles and a woman scantily clad in her underwear, although said circa 1900’s undergarments definitely make ‘scantily clad’ an oxymoron in this instance. This production is missing the multiple doors, often slamming, that are standard issue in most farces, but there are many ominous knocks at the front door, which is however unseen onstage.
In fact, in the spare but remarkably effective set, designed by the play’s director Janette Oswald, there are no doors and no walls. There is at the center of the back of the stage an old-fashioned sink, replete with water stains, two small china hutches one on each side of the sink, anchored stage left by a massive ice box and stage right by a massive stove. A simple bench, a hanging birdcage, a cuckoo clock, a small dining table with chairs, and two armchairs with a side table complete the set. This simple set is evocative of an apartment of the period, specified as 1910 in Dusseldorf, but is not a distraction from the action.
And the action starts briskly with Brian Hoffman, as Theo Maske, storming into his apartment worried about losing his job as a government clerk because his missus, Louise Maske, played sweetly and saucily by Jenny Wood, has had her underpants drop to the ground in a crowd of citizens as the King paraded by. Theo’s notions about the appropriate roles for husbands and wives is most definitely out of step with today’s mores, but Hoffman plays him with such committed sincerity that he remains likeable. Louise’s notion that no one noticed her knickers falling is quickly dashed by her nosey neighbor, Gertrude Deuter, played with a mouthy lustful enthusiasm for life by Penny Elaine, who eagerly explains that she learned of the incident when it was announced at the train station. Elaine gives Gertrude’s laughter many colors, each of them wonderful, naughty and fun.
However, Theo Maske’s fear of losing his clerkship seems unfounded as the most immediate result of the incident is that two bachelors who witnessed the event show up, each independent of the other, to rent the room the Maske’s have to let, not that either wants or needs a room. Instead, each wants Louise and the first on the scene is an unpublished poet in search of a muse, Frank Versati, played with wanton hubris by Weston Loy, a newcomer to Dallas theater who we hope remains. Is Versati’s obvious overture to Wood’s Louise a tune to which she would like to dance? Before Versati can strike up the band and find out our second bachelor and would-be suitor, Benjamin Cohen as played by Russell Sims, arrives in an exceptionally large pair of spectacles with a squeaky voice and several palpable but indiscriminate aches and agues. Hoffman’s Maske, who brought Cohen home only to find the room already rented out by his wife, is delightfully oblivious to what is going on, which drives a lot of the funny throughout the play. However, Sims’ Cohen knows immediately what Loy’s Versati is about and sets himself to stop it at all costs, landing numerous jokes and pratfalls along the way.
As it will in a good farce, mayhem ensues. Elaine’s Gertrude is giddy with anticipation at living vicariously through Wood’s Louise, one of whose funniest scenes comes when she reveals her mind about one of the bachelors. Yet more players join the mayhem as Eric Levy plays Klinglehoff, another would-be renter, but one absent ulterior motive, who arrives behind a very mysterious mustache worthy of a walrus, while limping about with a cane. Levy and Wood have a charmingly funny scene together in which Levy’s earnest Klinglehoff manages to convince Louise that he is only there to rent a room. Finally, our seventh player, Tony Magee’s gleeful King, dripping with more fringe than my Aunt Louise’s drapes, stops by the apartment with some news for the Maskes. Magee has limited stage time, but luckily for us he makes the most of it, including setting up Levy to deliver one of the funniest and most unusual expletive constructions I have ever heard.
Costumes, by Karen Askew, and makeup were effective and surprising. While the costumes fit the period quite well, with suits for the men and cinch-wasted blouses and skirts for the ladies, the makeup design for all players featured very dark shadow, sometimes a deeply black shadow, around the eye. To me it seemed reminiscent of the movie makeup of the silent era, especially Ms. Wood’s makeup, which along with her hair style, made her a dead ringer in my eyes for Clara Bow, the silent era’s “It Girl.” FYI, Ms. Wood is back on a DFW stage for the first time in 20 years and it is a triumphant return.
A special shout out to Penny Elaine for also acting as Props Designer. Michael Straub, the Master Carpenter, did an excellent job with the set, including the aforementioned massive stove and ice box. Robbi D. Holman’s sound design included some very appropriate music that was likely from the twenties or the silent movie era, which worked well for both the atmosphere of the play and as background for the scene charges, expertly stage managed by Jennifer Patton. Kenneth Hall’s work as Lighting Designer/Board Op was expert as well.
Janette Oswald has directed a fast and funny show, running just 2 hours including intermission, but the story she tells is also thought provoking. I recommend you buy tickets right away, as this show will sell out. I saw the Friday, August 5th performance, which day was National Underwear Day, although it was sheer coincidence that the play’s run coincided with this observance, if Carol M. Rice, the Executive Artistic Director of Rover Dramawerks, is to be believed.
Accessible seating: Yes
Hearing Devices Available: No
Sensory Friendly Showing: No
Audience Rating: PG-13 due to sexual references and innuendo
Production Sound Level: Comfortable
Noises and Visuals to Know About: No
See you at the theater!
David Ellivloc
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