Willy Nilly

My reaction to this one-act musical went from mild amusement to annoyed tolerance to outright loathing within 20 minutes. Is there a reason we have been asked to watch a snarky, cartoon-thin spoof of the Manson Family murders in which everyone, criminal and victim alike, is turned into an object of snickering mockery? There's stage craft and songwriting skill on display, and many performers giving their fully committed all, but the material is bad taste for its own sake. The use of a square law-and-order narrator recalls the Jack Lord character in the in every way superior Manson Family Opera - here the character is eventually cross-dressed as Tiny Tim to infiltrate the cult for no apparent reason but convenience. The mocking caricature of Sharon Tate, the cult's most famous victim, is a new low in cynicism: are we really being cued to laugh at what a Hollywood bimbo she was, when we all know how viciously she, and the baby she was carrying, were murdered?

May-December With The Nose And Clammy

I'm hard to please when it comes to romantic comedies, but I was instantly won over by this one-act which keeps the light comic tone of the genre but gives its couple true-to-life rather than easy-to-solve problems. The heroine (played with irresistible charm by Naomi McDougall Jones, also the co-writer) laments early on that in movies the girl has to choose between the guy who is clearly great and the one is clearly an asshole, but in real life guys are a combination of the two. She can't make up her mind if she wants to stick it out with Noah (Craig Waletzko, also perfect for this material) and enlists us in direct address to help her decide as they re-enact the highs and lows from their relationship. Their conflicts aren't glamorous - she says he turns into a "swinging dick" when he's around his friends, and he says the accusation reminds him how young she is, 15 years his junior. He's insecure and clingy, she won't make him the only important thing in her life as he has made her in his. We all know problems like these and that recognition helps to make the show consistently engaging and memorable.

Two On The Aisle, Three In A Van

photo: Patty Wall

No one will claim that this backstage comedy (by Mary Lynn Dobson) breaks new ground - you know every "type" in the beleaguered community theatre troupe from their entrance line, from the spoiled diva (Natascia Diaz) to the egomaniac artistic director (John Dowgin) to the seasoned seen-it-all veteran (Terri Sturtevant). But the yuks and gags are nearly relentless and, apart from some wheel-spinning at the top of the tad-too-long second act, the show undoubtedly works and is broad, old-school funny. My favorite running joke involves a desperate, overeager performer (Stephen Medvidick) who keeps trying to grab the spotlight - he thinks as the Gentleman Caller in The Glass Menagerie he should launch into a tap routine. While the show doesn't give Natascia Diaz the chance to sing and dance, it does give her a terrific showcase for her unerring skills as a comedienne. As always, she's captivating and reason enough to see any show.

Harold Pinter Pair

The Lover, the first of the two Pinter plays in this double header, is pitch perfect, from the chime-like Beatles instrumentals that play over the scene changes, to the color of the furniture, to the choice of each cocktail glass. Most importantly, the direction (by Patrick McNulty) is right on point and the actors (Chris Thorn and Juliana Zinkel) are keenly attuned to each other and expertly maintain the chilly tension in Pinter's dialogue. Similarly astute choices mark the second play in the show, Ashes To Ashes, and the performances (by Allen McCullough and Christine Marie Brown) are quite good but I must admit a hard-to-ignore bias here: the play - more grave and enigmatic and with a wider narrative reach than the first - is much less to my personal taste. Nonetheless, both Pinter newbies and devotees are urged to see the pair.

Gutter Star

Gay women are under-represented on stage compared to gay men, so it's especially regrettable to report that this musical - about a screen star in "golden age" Hollywood whose lesbian affair threatens to destroy her career - is disappointingly bland and often inept. The show's synopsis promises "a trashy tale of forbidden love from the tawdry pages of pulp fiction" but the show lacks not only the heightened style needed for pulp but any style at all. Plot holes and contrivances are plentiful - you wonder why the studio chief goes to all the trouble of having his male assistant dress in lesbian drag to spot the screen star in the all-girl Coconut Club when he's just going to rip up her contract anyhow, and why he says things to the star like "We don't tolerate that sort of thing in this day and age" as if toleration used to be policy.

How Now Dow Jones

It's a mystery what this earnest 70 minute revisal of this dusty old musical is doing in the Fringe: did the York pass? The show was already last-gasp in 1968 when it debuted, a throwback to the template in which every secretary's default dream was to find a husband. Ben West has dug it out of mothballs and done a commendable job of trimming and re-shaping the material, but he's basically spruced up a yellowed museum piece. It's an irrelevant, standard issue musical comedy of yesteryear. Presumably the reason is the show's score (music by Elmer Bernstein, lyrics by Carolyn Leigh) which has more than a couple of square charmers, but since when is the Fringe a try-out for Encores? Undoubtedly there is some appeal in this enterprise for devotees of old musicals, but that enjoyment is likely to be mitigated by the production's lack of attention to design and production value (yes, even by Fringe standards) which summons the feeling of a community theatre rehearsal. In the plus column are the instantly likable and charismatic leads (Colin Hanlon and Cristen Paige) who are so much more skilled and entertaining than all else on stage that I've no doubt I'll be seeing each of them in many other things in the future.