BACKSTAGE WEST
Any production that opens with a disemboweling must be
applauded not only for clarity of artistic vision but for technical sophistication. Paul
Plunkett's self-directed script envisions a hostile takeover in Hell, a place with a
depressingly recognizable corporate structure. Lucifer (Jay Harik) appears to be losing
his managerial edge when one of his demons, Mr. B (the deliciously silky Gerald
McClanahan), presents a way to downsize and streamline the torment distribution: Why not
have everyone torture each other, thus eliminating the middle-demon? Of course, there's
the usual caviling by the supervisory level of unskilled demon labor (Quinn Sullivan and
Jenifer Hamel encapsulate pretty much everything wrong with organized labor in their
mildly engaged characters) and the stockholders' interests need to be seen to by
representative Mickey (Piper Henry, in a chillingly perky power-suit turn). But still, the
plans seems workable. The jokes are numerous, and some of the best ones occur during the
scene changes as the condemned souls sream backstage (Bang! "Not my BMW!").
Visual jokes abound as well, most of them during the Hell's Kitchen scenes in which
Tortured Souls #1 and #2 (Martin Yu and Michelle Philippe as pulchritudinous waitstaff)
glide by in little red aprons proffering one body part after another. "Scenic
wizards" David Holcomb and Brad Hennigan have created the definitive Office Depot
Abattoir, while Andrew Friedman skillfully manages about a jillion props. Jeffrey Smith
and Theres Tinling as the duo condemned to remain in vituperative embrace forever are one
not-so-Grand Guignol moment after another, and should probably not be experienced by
couples going through a rocky period. And I haven't even gotten to the part yet where
Santa (John Sylvain, in an endearingly huggy-bear performance) administers electric
tit-clamps to Satan. Oh well, you'll just have to check it out yourself. See you in Hell.
-Wenzel Jones
©1997 Backstage West
|
DRAMA-LOGUE
Writer/director Paul Plunkett envisons hell as just
another corporate bureaucracy -- substitute angels for executives and demons for low level
workers. Lucifer wears a pin-striped suits and smokes a cigar. Mr. B, that very suave
corporate muck-a-muck, schemes for the boss' job and, by God (pardon the expression),
almost pulls it off.
Catching Hell is not for the faint of heart: guts are pulled from bellies and eyes
are gouged out and flung against the wall of the stark, dreary-looking offices of the
standing set (created by a non-credited set designer). The playbill notes "There are
10 minute intermissions between each of the 493.251 acts. Welcome to Hell" and that
is about the level of humor Catching Hell offers. Lauren Hollingsworth's lighting design
punctautes the action, assisted by a neatly oriented electronic sign above the proscenium.
We are surprised to find Santa Claus in the inferno, but Plunkett has a good explanation
for sending him there, and certainly John Sylvain, who has a great "Ho, ho, ho!"
is a warmly welcome addition to the evening. What Catching Hell lacks is much of a
dramatic impetus. With people and archfiends this unrepentant -- even the beautiful
Mickey, the haughty liaison from heaven, has the oily personality of a Hollywood gossip
with a dozen scoops -- who really cares what happens to them? Also, the episodic
construction of Catching Hell gives the evening a start/stop rhythm that bogs down tha
action. Still, Plunkett has created some sporadically nasty characters that haters of
bureaucracy and lovers of Grand Guignol may find amusing. In addition to Sylvain's fine
performance, Jeffrey Steven Smith does some lively dancing in the role of Dennis; Gerald
McClanahan is the weasel you love to hate as Mr. B; Jay Harik makes a swell Lucifer; and
lovely Piper Henry as Mickey adopts a pesonality just this side of chalk scraping a
blackboard. Less effective, though equally committed to flamboyant roles, are Therese
Tinling as Kitty, who demands to be victimized; Quinn Sullivan as Mona who speaks the
immortal lines, "Yeah, hell sucks now;" and Martin Yu and Michelle Philippe as
Tortured Soul #1 and #2, respetcively; and Jenifer Hamel as the rabble-rousing Carrie
-Bruce Field
©1997 DramaLogue |
PERFORMANCE - Gerald
McClanahan 
