Review by Ethan Kanfer
In 1928, the Soviet Union was only 11 years old, but playwrights like Nikolai Erdman were already giving voice to a frustrated citizenry by satirizing the regime’s hollow rhetoric and tangled bureaucracy. Not surprisingly, the state hit back, and Erdman’s creativity — and his citizenship — was stifled by the Stalin government. Erdman’s Samoubiitsa (The Suicide) didn’t see a full production until after the author’s death. To bring this historical artifact to light is in itself a worthwhile gesture. But Goodbye Cruel World is more than just a museum piece. Thanks to some high-octane performances and Robert Ross Parker’s sprightly adaptation, this fable of an Everyman in trouble is both informative and riotously entertaining.
Humiliated by his inability to find gainful unemployment, Semyon Semyonovich, played by Paco Tolson, scrapes together enough cash for a rusty tuba and an instruction book. His hopes of a career in music are dashed, however, when the instrument proves more difficult to learn than he expected. Growing increasingly despondent, Semyon considers shooting himself. Word quickly spreads, and soon our unlikely hero becomes finds himself surrounded by seemingly well-intentioned visitors.
In an effort to further their own causes, representatives of various special interests clamor to claim this tragic figure for their own. The State, The Proletariat, The Arts, Industry, The Church, and The Intelligentsia all believe they can curry political favor by turning hapless Semyon into a poster boy. An instant celebrity, Semyon is thrilled that his luck has changed. But there’s a problem. He’s not so sure he really wants to die, and now, with pressures mounting on all sides, he might have to go through with it.
Under Parker’s taut direction, the committed, versatile cast handles everything from slapstick beats to seething diatribes with deft precision. They are aided by Nick Francone’s comically dreary set and Theresa Squire and Antonia Ford-Roberts’s vaudeville-Bolshevik costumes. As enjoyable as the character’s antics are, however, there is a poignant side to their self-deluded speeches.
From flat bromides about the coming Revolution, to a wistful rendition of the Communist anthem “The Internationale,” Goodbyeis filled with touching depictions of what happens to the human spirit when a utopian dream becomes a totalitarian nightmare.
What makes director-adaptor Robert Ross Parker giggle? Based on his occasionally darling but overlong farce Goodbye Cruel World, he likes (in this order): pillowy wigs, Pythonesque sketches, execrable Russian accents and kazoos. He also wants his actors to enjoy themselves, so while a deliberately ramshackle set creaks cheerfully, his six antic performers (playing almost 20 characters) do their best to crack one another up.
Such rambunctiousness makes Parker’s zingy adaptation of Nikolai Erdman’s biting satire, The Suicide, play like a lovable college production: It teeters from gleeful anarchy into simple sloppiness and doesn’t totter back. But with actors like inveterate scene-stealer Paco Tolson and comedy quarterback William Jackson Harper charging hard at every joke, even sophomoric humor deserves a passing grade.
Erdman’s play—a bitter, hilarious swipe at Soviet repression—is basically one gag. When rumors spread that Semyon (Tolson) wants to commit suicide, hordes of hangers-on materialize on his doorstep. The intelligentsia wants to wield his death as a political tool; the church hopes to claim him as a martyr. The joke: Socialist Stalin created a brisk free market in deaths. Belly laugh!
Parker adds literal bells and whistles to the narrative, getting the cast to multitask as musicians who drum out punctuation whenever anybody makes a funny. The stage business works well, and it’s always fun to watch actors racing through quick changes. But Parker’s choice of material is actually too good: His sweet-natured construction is friendly and featherlight while Erdman’s humor has a black, dangerous undertow. It’s not just in the high jinks, then, that Parker’s company sometimes finds itself helplessly carried away.—Helen Shaw
Read more: http://newyork.timeout.com/articles/theater/82305/goodbye-cruel-world-theater-review#ixzz0dkltlicF
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