Theatre Review, THREE MURDERS AND IT'S ONLY MONDAY

Theatre Review

THREE MURDERS AND IT'S ONLY MONDAY

Springville Center for The Arts

February 1, 2009



* * * Three Stars



Here is a silly private eye romp of murders in a sanitarium. The jokes are often so bad they beg for mercy. The doctor of the sanitarium, for instance, answers an inquisition about the cleansliness of the hospital by proclaiming, "this is a sanitary sanitarium!", and then repeats the line as if pondering the playwright's lack of creativity. A hospital worker enters with a tray of breakfast cereal just as someone announces the murders may be serial murders. This two-act comedy prides itself on being bad, and comes close to collapsing under it's own sardonic weight.



Director Joanne May however, keeps the gumshoe comedy carefully tongue-in-cheek with exaggerated and amusing performances, and often, exceptional comedic timing from the cast of 12, (13 if you count the puppet Howdy Doody). Lead player, gumshoe Harry Monday, (Troy Lester), in a debut performance, carries off the private eye schtick with ease and a cool way of talking out of the side of his mouth, ("it's like this, you see"); Scott Hill, as Dr. Morrissey, is a fine comic player, never fearing to take his bit to outrageous heights while keeping his romp within the confines of the staged silliness; Mike Sharrar, as Larramore Mandrake sweeps the stage with his skilled delivery and timing, and possesses an outstanding singing voice; Pam Morley, as Tara Dallaise, does the sexy femme fatale bit with just enough voluptuous swash and sway. Howdy Doody doesn't move his mouth, while his ventriliquest does. It's a joke, son.

Often this trite takes itself too seriously as if the audience really cares 'who-did-it'. What is most appealing is the sound effect thunder and lightning, lights going off and on, candles being lit, farce-like entrances and exits, and the sheer fun that the cast is having infecting the audience with sometimes undeserved giggles. It all reaches a satisfying conclusion.

THE WRESTLER

At least now I have seen at least one film nominated for an Oscar this year; Mickey Rourke in THE WRESTLER. It's a brutal and probably accurate depiction of life in the bottom rings of the Pro Wrestling circuit. Rourke plays an aging muscle-bound lunk, whose 1980's heyday in the wrestling world are in sharp contrast to his current bottom-feeder status. Like a decrepit blonde Thor with bulking muscles, scars and bandages, and a face as worn as an old punching bag, Rourke delivers a sad and powerful performance as a man reaching for the thunder in a merciless sky. I thought the last moments of the film were a note of optimism, while the three friends I saw it with felt it was only tragic. Minor argument ensued.