Reefer Madness' combines camp and cannabis
2007-07-19
"Reefer Madness," the summer musical at TheatreWorks in New Milford, proves that because a show is silly and sophomoric doesn't mean it can't be occasionally funny. "Madness" delivers some sporadic laughs, but it ultimately fails to live up to the litmus test of parodies -- improving on a comic premise that has established itself as laughable.
"Madness" is based on a 1936 film originally produced as a church propaganda tool to warn parents about the dangers of their kids using cannabis or the "devil weed."
Before it was released, it was acquired by a sleazy producer who inserted salacious scenes involving sex, orgies and insanity. It was a lousy movie on any level, but when discovered by the grass-smoking flower children of the 1970s it was embraced as a cult film.
Far be it for me to say it was funnier if you were stoned, but that seems to have been the case. Over acting and cheap production values, including many scenes in which the sets or props were obviously fake, endeared it to buzzed midnight audiences. Truth is, the movie is pretty dull except for scenes in which the characters go mad with laughter or instant sexual obsession. Otherwise, it's a B-movie about low life.
The musical version touches base with all of the significant plot points but aims for a cartoon approach rather than the dead pan, unintentionally satiric original.
The sermon-like introduction and finger-pointing conclusion copied from the movie are meant as send-ups of the moral police, and that's more scary than funny -- even today.
So why doesn't "Reefer Madness," the musical, work any better than it does? Probably because it wears out its parody credentials early on and has to repeat itself over and over again -- like the inane "Reefer Madness" chorus.
The almost tuneless, shamefully derivative score by Kevin Murphy (lyrics) and Dan Studney (music) is of little help, and their juvenile book wouldn't cut it at a free comedy club. There are a few lines that get a yuk, but most of the humor is decidedly for those who think the Algonquin Round Table was where King Arthur's kitchen help ate.
Director Sharon A. Wilcox has pulled every trick out of the hat to keep the audience diverted, including a fig leaf costume number, "The Orgy," a jive session at the "Five-and-Dime" and a prison number that Busby Berkeley would have been proud of.
Having the cast enter and leave like zombies from George A. Romero's "Night of the Living Dead" series, though, is overkill.
The evening, if not the musical, is saved by the dint of the performances -- especially Joe Harding as a sanctimonious lecturer, a wife (shades of "Hairspray"), a horned critter and just about anybody else the script calls for. He's droll and confident and if his contributions had been reduced to one of those 15-minute comedy shorts the movie theaters used to include with the feature you would have had a true winner.
Matthew Koenig plays Jimmy Harper, the innocent teenager who gets hooked on reefers, and though a nerdy part, he conveys enough naivete to make his performance work. Keilly Gillen McQuail, who is becoming the company's own Imogene Coca (teenage version), steals every scene as Jimmy's girlfriend Mary Lane, with her squeaky voice and gulping convolutions. It's a little like her role in last year's similarly camp "Urinetown," but who cares?
Ralph Colon Jr. is a standout as both Jack, the drug lord, and as a Las Vegas-style Jesus. Colon has the kind of stage presence that commands your attention and he cuts a professional swath, singing and swiveling through the often-crowded musical numbers.
In featured parts, Margaret Ann King and Amy Grimm deliver the kind of deliciously hammy acting the kind of movie making "Madness" tolerated, and James Hipp recreates the manic laughing of Ralph from the movie, even if he may remind you more of Igor in "Young Frankenstein."
There's an exuberant ensemble, who seem willing to do just about anything to get a laugh. But it would have been nicer for them and us if the material had been more supportive.
Among the lame attempts at humor, Beth Harvison enters periodically with placards bearing sage advice for the drug-tempted like: "Reefers make you laugh hysterically for no reason" or "Reefers make you sell your baby for no reason." Duh. I wouldn't have been surprised to see one saying "Applause" or "Laughter."
Scott Wyshynski's set is more functional than funny, but it does serve the purpose of getting the quick-changing characters off and on without running into each other. A revolving crucifix on the top balcony is a neat touch.
Ed Bassett's costumes are as tacky as the show's milieu, but in this case that's high praise.
Wilcox has kept her dancers on the go-go, and they often seemed to be touched with reefer enthusiasm. As inventive as her work is, a sense of repetition eventually takes hold. Blame that on a show that goes on longer than its premise can sustain.
The musical director was Angela McCulloch and she led the five-piece, off-stage band with verve. I'm sure she, too, would have been happier with a better score.
Those who come to see this show without preconceived ideas about its source will probably enjoy it more than those who mistakenly have heard the movie was a total hoot. If that's the kind of turn-on you're looking for, you might want to drop by your local dealer before heading for the theater.