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Some 70 years have
passed since George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart won the
Pulitzer Prize for their Depression-era comedy "You
Can't Take It With You" and created a "must do"
project for virtually every community theater in the
country. Its
appeal is understandable: a sizable cast populated
with juicy character roles, highlighted by the
toppling of the Type A personality and the triumph
of the more laid-back attitude in all of us. It's as
comfortable as the proverbial old shoe, yet in the
right hands it never ceases to be infectiously
funny.
There are a number
of "right hands" at the Huntington Beach Playhouse,
the primary ones belonging to director Avis Rueweler,
who has fashioned a robust and vibrant production
out of this exceedingly familiar exercise. The old
adage that "there are no small parts," etc.,
certainly applies to this appealing revival.
For those few
playgoers unfamiliar with the story, it unfolds at
the home of "Grandpa" Martin Vanderhof and his
extended family of eccentrics, circa 1936. Grandpa
lives a life of quiet, fulfilling inactivity, having
retired on a whim at the prime of his business life
some three decades before and never looked back.
He's the patriarch
of three generations and a few hangers-on who
populate the New York dwelling in which snakes,
ballet dancers, amateur playwrights and the
occasional tipsy actress find themselves right at
home. But the outside world threatens encroachment
when his granddaughter falls for the son of her Wall
Street employer, setting up a hilarious
confrontation of opposing lifestyles.
Rick Hardgrove fits
perfectly into the role of Grandpa, dispensing
thoughtful pearls of wisdom and neutralizing
tyrannical tycoons. It's his second Kaufman-Hart
central character in the space of a few months,
following his title role in "The Man Who Came to
Dinner" in Irvine, and Hardgrove handles it
expertly.
Leslie Joyce
beautifully interprets his somewhat ditzy daughter,
Penelope, who writes plays because someone left a
typewriter on her doorstep eight years before. Jim
Thomas enacts her fireworks-creating husband Paul
with much of Grandpa's sage calmness and his own
childlike wisdom.
The role of Alice,
their lovestruck daughter, is taken over the top,
quite delightfully, by Kelly Yarborough, who
projects both the romantic and heartbroken aspects
of her character with a fine flourish. Matthew
Dougherty hits a lower key as her level-headed
swain, anxious to trade his corporate world for her
more improvisational existence.
Melissa Liu
sparkles as the other daughter, Essie, who spends
her stage time in one ballet position or another.
Her xylophone-tapping husband, Ed, is done more
tentatively by Agustin Alvarez, whose accent often
overshadows his character.
The servants are a
particular delight. Karly Pierre is a richly
interpreted kitchen maid, while James James rattles
the setting as her outspoken boyfriend, Donald. Carl
Wawrina functions quietly as Thomas' assistant, a
delivery man who just "stayed" with the family.
Into this already
eclectic atmosphere come some vibrant visitors,
chief among them being Jonathan Motil, most
commanding as the passionate ballet instructor
Kolenkov (Motil also doubles as the uptight IRS
agent early in the proceedings). Mary Hall reprises
an earlier role as a tipsy actress with a
freewheeling flourish, and Jenny Lanning is a regal
delight as the transplanted Russian grand duchess
who fits in most comfortably with the "commoners."
Finally, we meet
Dougherty's upper-class parents, deftly portrayed by
Robert Purcell and Valerie Speaks. Purcell has the
look and approach of a filthy rich banker straight
out of a New Yorker cartoon, while Speaks renders a
frosty, most uncomfortable spouse. Their encounter
with the improvisational Vanderhof-Sycamore
household is the high comic point of the production.
"How can you relax
in times like these?" the excitable Kolenkov asks at
one point in the play, to which Grandpa replies, "If
more people would relax, there wouldn't be times
like these." It's a 70-year-old message we could do
worse than take to heart today.
"You Can't Take It
With You" may be as familiar as a rerun of
"Gilligan's Island," yet it remains one of the
theater's pure comedy constants, an old favorite
lovingly reproduced by the Huntington Beach
Playhouse. |