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Thursday, November 8, 2007
Out of Hand’s ‘Meds’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW. Grade: B+
Warning: A toxicology report has revealed that “Meds,” Out of Hand Theatre’s vicious little satire of the nation’s pharmaceutical industry, is laden with manic physical comedy that may cause laughter.
It should also be noted that “Meds” can prompt such side effects such as anxiety, claustrophia, heavy sweating, sleeplessness and fear of death or injury. Viewers may be at risk for audience participation; not recommended for patrons with nervous disorders or those suffering from chronic giggle fatigue syndrome.
Now that you’ve read the fine print, we should confess that it’s not necessary to consult a physician before securing a ticket to this gonzo piece of ensemble-generated comedy, from the producers of the popular motivational spoof “HELP!” and Steve Yockey’s “Cartoon,” which used highlight markers to underscore the violent tendencies of comic strips.
Operating in the same vein (as it were), “Meds” is an unapologetic rant against America’s legal drug trade. The show starts out by seating audience members in a hyper-realistic, stuffy white doctor’s office, then sends them on a hallucinogenic trip to a place called Pharmaland, where clowning and cheerleading are showcased side-by-side with chemical experimentation and simulated surgeries. Strange place, that Pharmaland.
Directed with clinical precision by Maia Knispel, the intermissionless 90-minute show is a marathon mood swing that riffs on everything from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and sci-fi flicks to the anesthetised tone of infomercials and self-help gurus. We don’t want to spoil the surprise, so let’s just say that Oz Dillman’s set is very, very cool and leave it at that.
Lorded over by a bling-wearing pimp daddy (Geoff “Googie” Uterhardt) in plush purple fur, Pharmaland has a self-congratulatory corporate structure that salutes the R&D department “for their creative work on restless syndrome” — but takes a deep collective breath when it comes to AIDS. “We’re still working on AIDS,” the group sighs. But, of course. Why cure a disease that’s generating so much profit in drug sales?
The story of Phil the Pill, sketched out in erasable marker like an old Romper Room skit, has overtones of Harry Potter and British novelist Kazuo Ishiguro’s twisted organ-transplant saga, “Never Let Me Go.” And everytime the residents of Phamarland get too comfortable, along comes an invisible force called “the menace.”
Dressed in a white cape and speaking in ghoulish tones, Pharmaland’s resident doctor (Matt Huff) makes Faustian bargains with Pharmaland’s inhabitants, all eager to sell their souls for a taste of pharmaceutical nirvana. The drug du jour is Ease-a, a cocktail of several anti-depressants that some theater-goers may have in their purses. Ease-a promises to be a panacea for all that troubles you. Never mind that it’s addictive — and corrosive to body and soul.
As everyone from speed-addicted, weight-watching ’50s housewives to suicidal rock ’n’ rollers have proven over the years, the downside to such fantastic highs are the horrific lows.
This wildly inventive piece of social satire may go down like a big old silly pill. But after the madness and mayhem, “Meds” leaves an acidic aftertaste. Perhaps there’s a cost to allowing prescription drugs to be as readily available as Halloween candy. Just consider the demons, ghosts, zombies and cadavers that walk the earth, night and day.
THE 411: 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays.10:30 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays. 5 p.m. Sundays. Through Nov. 18. $15-$45. Out of Hand Theater, Push-Push Theater, 121 New St., Decatur. 404-522-6194, outofhandtheater.com
BOTTOM LINE: A prescription for laughter — with troubling side effects.
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‘White Christmas’ @ The Fox Theatre
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW. Grade: D+
“White Christmas” — the new musical comedy adapted from the 1954 romantic caper with snow — is so busy it hurts my contact lenses.
Running at the Fox Theatre through Sunday, “White Christmas” is a pretty flakey excuse for dusting off the timeless Irving Berlin songs immortalized by Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney in the familiar post-World War II movie chestnut.
Playwrights David Ives and Paul Blake have embellished the story of club-crooning former soliders Bob Wallace (Tom Galantich) and Phil Davis (David Engel) so that they now spend nearly three hours pursuing sister act Betty and Judy Haynes (Marla Schaffel and Kristen Beth Williams, respectively).
Repeat: That’s three hours.
On the plus side, the writers flesh out the plotline about General Harry Waverly (George McDaniel), blessing his Vermont inn with an adorable granddaughter (the delightful Hannah Misera) and an invincible battleship of a housekeeper named Martha Watson (Karen Murphy).
But they make a troublesome misstep in structuring the musical as if it were being shot as a movie, with each new “take” signaled by a clanging bell. The film-making conceit just crowds the musical with unnecessary complications. And scenery. Lots of scenery. (Hmm, let’s see. We’re watching a musical about performers who put on amateur theatricals, sing in clubs and make TV appearances, and it’s all being filmed. But why? And for whom? And for whom does that bell toll? Oh, never mind.)
Anyway, I’m glad that Murphy, who recalls a dynamic combination of Ethel Merman and Carol Burnett in a sideways wig, is around to liven things up with her outsize, old-school mannerisms. She’s a hoot. And that wig! Galantich (in Crosby’s role) and Schaffel (in Clooney’s) are solid pros with lovely singing voices. Let’s count our blessings for that.
Alas, director Jeff Calhoun (“Disney’s High School Musical” national tour and ice show) can’t shovel the company out of the chaos and clutter. We want — oh, gosh, how we want — “White Christmas” to be a gossamer confection to compare with “Radio City Christmas Spectacular.” But it just ain’t happening. It’s a snow job.
THE 411: 8 p.m. tonight-Saturday. 2 p.m. Saturday. 1:30 p.m. and 7 p.m. Sunday. $20-$64. Theater of the Stars, Fox Theatre, 660 Peachtree St. N.E., Midtown. 404-817-8700, ticketmaster.com
BOTTOM LINE: Berlin deserves better.
