Fuddy business

The Public Theatre takes one step left of realism

By Katherine Joyce

Fuddy Meers plays at the Public Theatre, in Lewiston, through March 24. Call (207) 782-3200.

SOCK IT TO ME: Scott Wakefield and Hamilton Clancy in Fuddy Meers.

There are a few brilliantly written comedies out there. The British are famous for such fast-paced, hilarious, almost slap-stick adventures. The audience loves them, because they are kept constantly in stitches, and they never know what twist the plot will take next. Fuddy Meers is just such a comedy.

Before the Public Theatre’s production of the show even begins, the audience is greeted by a cartoonish set. The walls are misshapen and angular, and painted to look like a cloudy sky, or the sea. Behind the main walls, the deep stage is occupied by large, colorful outlines of empty shapes. In the room created by the walls, there is a twin bed with a Tweety Bird comforter, and an outlandishly large green old-fashioned alarm clock. The audience is immediately given the sense that this play is going to be one step to the left of realistic.

The set is quite ingenious. Being a fast-paced show, there is no time to indulge in major set changes. However, the script calls for action to take place in three very different rooms and a car. Thus, the rooms are made up of three moveable walls. Both sides of each wall are used, and the walls are moved and turned around depending on the scene. For example, one side of the wall may have empty picture frames, while the other has a workbench and some tools. Crew dressed in maroon, their heads covered by ski masks, skillfully maneuver the walls into the correct positions during brief set changes.

The action begins early one morning. Claire wakes up and is greeted by an extremely chipper gentleman who claims to be her husband. She is informed that she has a rare form of amnesia (presumably referenced by those large, colorful, empty shapes on stage). Although she is able to learn and retain information over the course of a day, when she falls asleep, she always wakes up a “clean slate.” On this particular morning, her husband gives her coffee, her son filches 20 dollars from her purse, and a masked man crawls out from beneath her bed and kidnaps her.

And thus is launched an incredible day. The masked man (who also happens to have half of a set of handcuffs around one wrist) claims to be her brother, and takes Claire to her mother’s house. They are met by a man named Millet accompanied by a sock puppet named Hinky Binky. Millet has the other half of the handcuffs around one of his wrists, and Hinky Binky’s “wrists” are shackled as well. Did I mention that Claire’s mother, Gertie, has had a stroke and is unable to form words or sentences properly? She talks quite quickly, but word order, and sometimes letter order within a word, is all mixed up.

There are two roles that seem to take a great deal of discipline. Elowyn Castle, as Gertie, is faced with the daunting task of memorizing lines that are gibberish, and making them mean something. It is difficult to understand everything she says, and, unlike in the movie Nell, it is not as easy to become accustomed to her affectation. Her key lines, however, are stressed, and often interpreted by another character.

Millet, played by Scott Wakefield, is a challenging role as well. He has to be involved in several complex conversations as both himself and his sock puppet, Hinky Binky. Wakefield does an excellent job of keeping on top of both roles, and keeping the audience rolling. He seems to grasp the essence of this script and runs with it.

Each character in the play is exaggerated, with larger-than-life characteristics. The husband, Richard, is written to be extremely chipper and perky. The son, Kenny, is extremely disrespectful and bitter. Everyone is meant to be slightly over the top. However, there is a serious side to the story: Each person’s heightened personality is an over-compensation for some emotional trauma they have experienced. These traumas shadow the high-speed hilarity throughout the show, demanding complexity from its players, and never reaching either the height of its humor or depth of its despair with simplicity.

Unfortunately, simplicity is an easy trap to fall into with such exaggerated characters. Although not fatally, the Public Theatre cast does grapple with this obstacle. In some way, at some point in the play, each player loses his or her grip on the real person beneath the quick-witted language and frenetic pace, and this weakens the strength of the ensemble, though they have excellent comedic timing, and seem to really enjoy the ride. The play is funny, don’t get me wrong, and the players are talented, working hard to capture the essence of very difficult roles. It’s just that the whirlwind performance seems to fall just short of striking that satisfying balance between insanely funny comedy and heartbreaking fragility. Nevertheless, this quick-witted cast keeps the audience intrigued for the entirety of the show.

Katherine Joyce can be reached at ingliskat@aol.com.